Romancing the Holy Whatsis

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

Even on vacation, trouble always seems to follow Wanda. However, this trouble is attached to someone she's wanted to see again for a very long time. A bit of a rescue and a brief sit down, and it's bye-bye vacation for now.



New Delhi

Market Quarter


All cities had their slums, he reflected as he waved off yet another persistent hawker. This one was trying to sell him some sort of suspiciously-withered root, which apparently would enable him to service an entire harem of nymphomaniacs and render him irresistible even to the most chaste of nuns. Attention, even the attentions of the sort the hawker was extolling, were the last thing on his mind as he pushed on through the crowd.

Stephen Strange had an appointment.

Rhaabi's stall was hard to find amidst the chaos of the Market Quarter. The poorer sections of New Delhi were crammed into the cramped quarters between the river by the city's expansion, and the market stall owners jostled for valuable space . Fights and murders over territory weren't uncommon, and the thronging crowd made the area a breeding ground for pickpockets, beggars, petty thieves, muggers and illegal organ harvesters. Westerners were advised to avoid the area, given its lawlessness, which was why Strange was wearing the local loose-fitting cotton shirt and pants, his naturally olive-toned skin darkened by almost continuous travel. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with grey these days, and if it wasn't for his height, towering over the locals, he would have blended in seamlessly.

As it was, he had to fend off three more hawkers and a woman begging for coins to feed her crippled child. The little girl's legs ended in stumps laced with ugly, badly healed scar tissue where her feet had been hacked off at the ankle. Strange shuddered briefly despite the close, muggy heat - the girl's mother had maimed her, to make her a more profitable beggar. The images screamed at his Sight with unrelenting force. He wouldn't reverse the damage, but as he handed the woman a couple of rupees he placed a geas on her that prevented her from harming another child, ever again. It was a relief that he recognised the striped awning of Rhaabi's stall, and pushed his way through the throng towards it.

Only to be disappointed yet again - instead of Rhaabi's seamed and lined face grinning up at him, he found himself addressed a stranger, a surly young man with a slightly hostile air, as if Strange's presence was an affront.

"How may I be helping Sir?" he asked in sing-song schoolbook English. "We have many things good for gift, yes? For lady wife?" In Hindi he added something about street whores and cures for the pox, never changing his slightly obsequious tone.

"~Rhaabi owns this stall, does he not?~" Strange replied blandly in Hindi, and the young man's expression curdled. "~I have need to speak to him. Where is he?~"

"~Dead,~" came the sulky reply. "~I am his grand nephew, and he left the stall to me. Now, what is it you need? I have many customers.~" The last was a blatant lie - the two of them were the only ones even remotely interested in the stall's wares.

"~Dead?~" Strange paused in the act of picking through a pile of charms - the stall sold cheap jewellery and knick-knacks, mostly of pewter and brass polished to resemble silver and gold. "~What happened?~" A cold feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach.

"~He was beaten, two days ago, coming home from market. Probably a territorial dispute - it happens frequently.~" Rhaabi's great-nephew didn't seem overly concerned, but then again, Rhaabi's death meant a definite rise in status for him.

"~Murdered?~" Strange repeated, and now the dread was definitely growing. Rhaabi might have been an elderly stall keeper killed for offending one of his fellows, but he was also a swami, a rather skilled one. He would not have made an easy victim, and yet someone had managed it... and two days before they were due to meet. Strange's skin prickled with sudden sweat, and he became acutely aware of just how few friends he had left in India. If someone had killed Rhaabi, it was entirely possible they knew of Strange, and the mission he was on. Rhaabi had been his way out of India without being traced, and his death made things infinitely more dangerous. "~My condolences. May he find Shiva's comfort and ascend to a higher plane,~" he muttered, and hurried off, feeling the young man's eyes boring holes between his shoulder blades. He'd return to his lodgings and make some calls, and then...

Darkness fell abruptly as a hessian sack was yanked roughly over his head and several pairs of hands seized his arms, dragging him towards what had to be one of the many garbage-choked alleys in this part of the city. Strange struggled, but with his vision obscured he couldn't see to cast - the spell might go anywhere, cause too much damage in a hugely over-populated area. A sensation of coolness on his skin and the stench of rotting food and effluent through the mustiness of the sack confirmed his guess about the alley, and he lashed out blindly with his foot, catching someone in the shin and wincing. Sandals did not make good kicking footwear. The pain of his stubbed toe was eclipsed as someone - probably the Someone he'd just kicked - punched him in the kidneys, fire exploding through his lower back. He sagged somewhat, and another punch caught him in the side.

"~Where is it?~" a voice demanded harshly, the Hindi marked by a distinctly northern accent. Somewhere near the border of Pakistan, the academic in him observed faintly, as another blow - a kick this time, caught him behind the knee and dropped him into the unspeakable slime covering the alley floor. "~We know you came to meet the old man, to pass it on, so where is it?~"

"~I don't... know what you're talking... about,~" Strange gritted out, aware the hands holding him were also searching him rather effectively. Idiots. As if physical pain would make him drop his mission. Another kick caught him on the shoulder, lifting him up and dropping him on his back, where he sprawled, writhing slightly. Hmm, maybe physical pain would achieve something. He had to get some space, some room to manoeuvre before they did him a serious injury. "My wallet... take it," he said, switching to English. "My watch too. That's all I have."

"You lie!" came the reply, the English barely coherent, and another kick, this one in the ribs.

"~He carries nothing,~" said another voice. "~It is not here.~"

"~Then he has hidden it,~" returned the first voice. "~Bind his hands, we will take him with us. He will tell us what he knows.~" There was cold certainty in the words, and Strange couldn't help swallowing. Assault, torture... this was no life for a college professor. Indiana Jones be damned. Hands seized his arms again, jerked him upright and began tying his hands behind his back with what felt like rough nylon. Pain was making it hard to focus, but if there was a time for concentrating, it was now. He only had the strength for one spell, though...

Then there came a new voice, a woman's, speaking English. "Hey! What are you doing?"

'Damn and blast.' He couldn't risk a spell now, not with an innocent if rather stupid would-be Samaritan in the way. He opened his mouth to shout, to tell her to get away, even as he heard two of his captors go to engage her, making lewd suggestions in Hindi, the two remaining to hold him sniggering. Then there came a shout and a surprised yelp, followed by a crash. Swearing in Hindi, followed by another crash. His captors left him, obviously throwing themselves into the fray, and there was a sound not unlike an electrical discharge followed by the unmistakable smell of burnt hair. The last man obviously was less of a zealot than his companions - there was a rush of sandalled feet past Strange and continuing down the alley.

"Are you all right?" the woman's voice asked again, closer this time and the bag was lifted away. For a second Strange could only gape, shocked and surprised. Then at last he found his tongue.

"Hello, Wanda. Fancy meeting you here."

In complete and total shock, Wanda dropped the sack that had just been wrapped around his neck, not noticing as it drifted to the ground. When she had come to play rescuer -- cursing whatever God might be listening because this was supposed to be a vacation for her -- she had thought it a simple robbery, nothing more.

She had not been expecting this.

"...Stephen, I could say the same..." Stopping in mid-sentence, she shook her head and laughed a little, offering him a hand up. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Too long, Wanda thought, trying to quell her heart. The intervening months had left her a slightly different person than when they had parted. Cthon, her doubts over the X-Men, Pietro, all of it.

It had been rough, that was for sure.

Strange took the offered hand and let her haul him to his feet, a groan escaping him as the bruised areas made themselves known. "Quite a while," he agreed and then just looked at her. "You cut your hair," he said with a small smile, reaching over to touch it before realising his hands were covered with filth and pulling back. And that wasn't the only change - her aura was coloured by suffering, pain, darkness. Something unspeakably evil had touched her and he hadn't been there. "Oh, my dear," he whispered, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms but fearing that was a privilege no longer allowed to him. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there, should have..." The words failed him.

A slight shudder ran through her as her eyes darkened slightly, it had not been all that long ago, after all. Wanda should not have been surprised that he would have noticed... after all, Romany had warned her about the change in her aura. She just hadn't expected to be explaining this to Stephen so soon. If at all, really.

Blinking, realizing she was staring a little bit, she rubbed the back of her neck and gave him a wan smile. "It was been a trying time since you left," came the honest answer. "I will be more than happy to explain but I doubt this is the best area for it." The reminder

brought her swiftly back to the situation and the shadows dropped from her face and were replaced with concern. "Are you hurt? And what on earth was going on? And, by the way, we should probably get you to a

safer place. They did not act like normal thieves out to steal your wallet and travelers checks."

Mentally, Wanda realized, she was babbling and she wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands. She wanted to reach out and just touch him but, well, she wasn't sure where they stood.

"I only wish they had been - petty thieves would make things far less complicated." Strange straightened, wincing a little as his back reminded him he'd been kicked in several times. "I'm somewhat bruised, but I'll live. I have a hotel room not far from here, but it would be unwise to go there. Perhaps you...?" He left the question hanging. She was right, they needed to get away from here, but he didn't want to impose. Or cause her any further grief.

"My hotel is a few blocks away," Wanda said, firmly. "Your attackers were frustrated for now but men like that..." She shrugged. "They will have thought me a random passerbye, nothing more. And I gave them enough of a scare that they will not return for now."

Glancing over, she spotted the bags of shopping she had dropped upon seeing the attack. Leaving Stephen just long enough to scoop them back up in her arms, she nodded with a smile. "Besides, we have much to catch up on."

"We do." Cradling his ribs a little, Strange made an effort to straighten his clothes and brush off the worst of the mud and filth. He was going to need a shower and a change of clothes, but that was fairly low on the list of priorities. "I didn't say, but seeing you... I'm so very glad you turned up. And not only because you were my rescuer."

Turning, she clutched her bags a little tighter to stop her hands from going where they might not be welcomed anymore. "I am, too," Wanda responded, softly. "I've missed you. But right now we must hurry."

~~~

The room was only faintly chilly when Wanda kicked shut the door behind them, a condition she much prefered over heat of any kind. It was spacious but spare even as she added her bags to a growing pile of shopping.

"I'll have to buy another suitcase at this rate," she muttered to herself before turning back to Stephen. "Room service will be up in a second, and, please, get comfortable."

For his part, Stephen crossed to the window and peered cautiously down into the street below. "We weren't followed, I don't think," he said, looking back at Wanda. "But I'll set wards on the doors and windows to be sure. These men were just the first wave, I'm suspecting." But despite his cautionary words, he felt himself relaxing slightly, for the first time in what felt like days. "Thank you again, Wanda. I'm sorry to drag you into this whole mess."

"I would have checked a few times with the powers but it was too crowded to have made a difference." As Wanda nudged off her shoes and started to remove the outer garments -- she'd chosen to wear more traditional wear over top of jeans and a tank top -- she laughed suddenly. "Stephen, I wear leather almost every day and 'save the world' on a regular basis. I'm used to messes, so, please, no apologies are needed."

"And yet I still haven't seen you in the leather costume," he replied with more than a hint of the old teasing tone she'd brought out in him. Then he grew serious. "And I know you are, Wanda, it's just... something's happened to you. I can see it. Something more to do with my world than the world of the X-Men. And what I'm involved in now... well, it's closer to that than your usual super villain intent on ruling the world or a new mutant having accidents with their powers. I'm afraid for you."

Wanda's hands fluttered for a moment, unsure of where to go before running through her hair. "You're right, of course, in that this was much closer suited to your world than the ones that the X-Men run in." She was about to say more when there was a knock on the door and a voice in English announcing room service.

It didn't take long to spread out the tea and light lunch she always got -- she'd simply doubled the order this time -- and she sighed as they sat. "It seems we both have quite the tales. But... maybe... Stephen, have you ever heard of the names Cyttorak or Cthton before?"

A look of alarm flashed across his face and he came over and sat opposite her, regardless of his filthy clothes on the upholstery. "Cyttorak I've had... dealings with, second-hand as it were," he said, not wanting to divulge Cain's secret to another, even Wanda. "Cthton... there are readings, mentions in various ancient texts." A dread was settling over him. "You mean to say, you...?"

"Yes, that is most of the damage you saw." She played with the sugar packets for a second. Wanda took a deep breath and then quickly explained about how at her birth he had first gotten a hold of her, and how, and it didn't take long to tell what happened the night he finally broke free. "He's back in whatever place I ended up for that short while, Xavier and the Knights saw to that. They may have worshipped him but they realized he needed to stay where he was. The influence is gone now, completely, though I did a number on myself when I removed him from me. And the returning of my powers a week later was the rest of the damage." She tried to smile a bit, though in her eyes there lurked a deep anger for what happened. "It was... trying."

"Oh my dear." As Wanda had told her tale, Stephen had seen the corresponding changes in her aura and knew that the experience had had a profound effect on her. It was the anger that prompted him to speak. "There's a group, a cult, I suppose, devoted to worshipping Selene, among other dark forces. After her defeat last year, they've been desperately searching for a way to free her. Several weeks ago, that way was uncovered." At Wanda's alarmed exclamation, he continued, raising a reassuring hand. "By an old acquaintance of mine who knows of my work. It's a mantra, very old, designed for the purpose of freeing demons banished from this plane to another. Kwan secured it for me, and we managed the exchange without raising suspicion, or so I'd thought. But when I arrived here to meet another friend, one would be able to destroy the mantra, I found he was dead, murdered several days ago. That's why I was in the market quarter where you found me. The fact I was attacked by men specifically after one thing indicates the cult has found out I have the mantra."

When he was done, Wanda just stared at him, hands loosely wrapped around her cup of tea. It had been completely forgotten. "Why am I surprised by the fact that there's a cult for her?" she asked, finally. "Romany told me about the cults that still worship Cthton today. To put it mildly, it's frustrating and disturbing."

She leaned back and frowned a little. "Do you want some help?" Oh, she thought wildly, that wasn't what she meant to say. But it could stay out there now.

"People... and sometimes inexplicable in what they do. Selene promised power to some, represented the forbidden to others - it probably is a similar situation with Cthton." Stephen took refuge in the academic tone for a moment before addressing her offer. It had been the reason why he'd told her what he had, in fact - he couldn't do this alone and he sensed Wanda had just s much cause to defeat Selene's followers as he did.

Setting his cup down - he'd picked it up after he'd finished his tale to ease the dryness of his throat - he gazed almost pleadingly at her. "I not only want help, Wanda, I need it. With Rhaabi dead, I shall have to go elsewhere to neutralise the mantra and it's not exactly the easy road. There's a monastery in Nepal where I can find what I need, but between here and there are many miles and I fear the more conventional travel routes such as the airport will be watched for my departure."

Wanda relaxed at his words and smiled at him again. "I would be more than willing to help. I'm currently on vacation from both the X-Men and the colleges, so I am completely yours for as long as you need the help." Tilting her head a little bit, she asked, "What, exactly, is this mantra?"

Strangely, he blushed then, reddening under the tan. "Um, well. it's a standard sort of thing, a series of words meant to be chanted over and over in order to achieve the desired effect," he began, but a subtle shift in Wanda's expression halted him. It was the 'I'm not fooled at all' look. Lifting his hands to the buttons of his shirt, he undid the first two. "Perhaps it's better if I show you," he said, before pulling the soiled blue shirt over his head. Across his chest were etched line after line of Sanskrit, the lines thick and black as if the ink was still wet. "Ah, that would be the mantra. It's sort of... magically bound to my skin. For safekeeping."

The blush was intensifying. Partly because he was worried about what Wanda would say about the wisdom in having an evil mantra marked on your skin, and partly because the last time she'd seen him with his shirt off, circumstances had been vastly different. And wasn't that memory making things more awkward as certain physical reactions were making themselves known?

There was no question about it, Wanda was staring. The shock of seeing him with a tattoo of any kind had been great indeed and the knowledge of what it actually meant made her slightly nervous. But Stephen had to have known what he was doing when he accepted it.

"That is certainly...a unique way of carrying it," she said finally, swallowing a little bit. Her brain was attempting to process far too much, she thought wryly. Running into Stephen, the cult for Selene and now the shirt off...which was reminding her far too much of their parting. Though the blush was awfully cute. She smiled. "It will only fall into the wrong hands if you do."

Part of her wanted him to put his shirt back on so she could concentrate again but the rest of her brain was firmly demanded that it stay off.

"Well, it's certainly easier than carrying around scrolls and the like," he replied, looking down at the shirt in his hands and debating putting it back on. Only it was stained with God-knew-what filth from the alley and the idea was unappetising to say the least. "The monastery will be able to remove it, but I'll need help getting there, particularly now they know to look for me." He looked down at the shirt again. "Ah, could I trouble you for use of your shower and a change of clothes? That alley wasn't the cleanest."

"I will gladly give you what ever help you need." She eyed the shirt with some distaste and grinned. "As if I'd let you go out with that thing back on. The shower is all yours, they should have brought clean towels while I was gone. And I'll contact the front desk about getting you something else to wear."

"Thank you, Wanda." His eyes lingered on her face as he said her name for a long moment, and then he stood, wincing slightly as his back reminded him he'd been used as a football recently. "But won't it seem suspicious, asking for men's clothing? Although I think my appearing in public in anything of yours will probably garner even more attention."

It was simply too hard to pass this up, despite the constant case of nerves that had settled in her stomach since the moment they had run into each other. Leaning back, Wanda smirked just a tad. "No, they'll simply assume that I am buying you clothes because you're my... escort is not the right word, though in the States it's sometimes called a boy toy?" She was really about to start laughing.

If Stephen had been blushing before, he seemed nearly ready to combust now. "Ah. Yes. Of course." He twisted the shirt in his hands nervously. "Um, I'll just... the bathroom is that way?"

"Yes and feel free to use the soaps and shampoos that are in there. You will end up smelling like I do but it cannot be worse than before." Wanda waited until he'd scrambled into the bathroom before bursting into giggles. It had been far too long since she'd been able to see him turn that color.

However after the laughter stopped, she groaned. She really didn't like not knowing where she stood and right now, the entire situation was murky.

For his part, Stephen leaned back against the bathroom door as he closed it behind him, breathing out a long sigh and then thunking his head softly against the door. "Idiot," he told himself quietly. His feelings hadn't changed for her, but neither had his circumstances - it was inevitable that he would have to leave again, and with the damage he saw in her as a result of Cthton, there was no way he could ask her to share his work with him, much less wait at home for him to return when he could. It wouldn't be fair on her. Only... now he'd found her again, he didn't want to give her up.

"First things first," he said firmly, making himself stand upright and strip the rest of his clothing off. "Let's see if we get to Nepal alive, and then we can worry about what happens next." It wasn't much of a plan, but he did feel better for having made it. He peered into the shower stall, noting the sheer numbers of bath products with a bemused air before stepping inside and turning on the water.

At its coldest setting. He needed it.