Wanda and Stephen Strange - backdated

[x-scarletwitch.livejournal.com]

Following the discovery of Agatha's abduction, Strange finds Wanda on the roof, dealing - or not-dealing - in her own way.



The days that followed the discovery of the destruction of Agatha's study brought with it more headaches and fewer answers. Despite their best efforts, they had not been able to find Agatha Harkness by any means and Wanda had been in the business long enough to know what no information could do to a missing person. They had searched, searched and searched again but nothing as much as a single clue had come to light. They had sent back what they could to the others at the offices with the knowledge that there was only so much they could do from across the pond and they had limited resources on their end ...

And then there were the police. Amanda and Wanda had quietly urged Stephen to not call the police until they were done looking; outside of certain task forces, such as Duncan's back in New York City, Wanda was certain that the police would only hinder their own investigations. But they were called in the next day when Agatha was noted missing from the University and she chafed at the idea of trying to work around them, around their systems, when so much time was running out.

If it hadn't already.

The plate in her hand shivered and then cracked, blowing away piece by piece thanks to the strong wind. Wanda watched it dispassionately until it was all gone and then she wiped her hand on her pants before reaching for another. She sat atop of the roof of the museum since Agatha's house was not a place she wanted to spend any alone time at; she was surrounded by broken bits of pottery and plates, good china she'd 'borrowed' from one of Agatha's personal store rooms (they were not antiques or anything close to it), Ones she'd spent the last hour or so shattering with her powers once the scotch had burned its way out of her system.

She picked up the next piece, glared, and chucked it over the side of the building.

"I would make a remark about bulls in china shops having nothing on you, but I don't want to suffer the same fate as that plate." It was Strange, watching her from the roof access door. "Amanda sent me up to check on you. For some reason she thought I would be the best choice." He approached, confident now he wouldn't startle her. "How long have you been up here?"

As he walked to join her, Wanda blew on her hands in a vain attempt to get some of the dust and debris clear. "A while, I suppose," she said, tilting her head back to watch the sky for a moment. "Far too long if the lack of alcohol in my system and the amount of debris around me is anything to go on."

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to her. "Here," he said. "For your hands." As she took it to wipe the dust away, he put his own hands in his pockets, looking around at the mess. "Did it help? All this?"

Despite everything Wanda could help but smile at the handkerchief - Stephen was the only person she knew who routinely still carried one. It fell from her face as she looked around. "It will not bring Agatha back in one piece, it will not allow me to kill her son nor will it let me fix ... well, everything. So, no, not particularly. In fact, it never really seems to help all that much."

"I have discovered it is never helpful to blame oneself for the actions of others," he said, sadly. He took the handkerchief from her hands and dabbed at some china dust on her cheek. "This cult has made it clear what it is after," he added. "Sooner or later, they will make the move that will lead us straight to them."

"If only we knew it would be sooner," Wanda responded bitterly. She fisted her hands on her lap to give them something to do other than take his hand between them. "There are far too many 'if onlys' and 'what ifs' and until then, Agatha's out there ..." Her voice broke and she surged up to her feet, nearly running Stephen over before she moved to the side and over to the edge of the roof. Whatever little softness Wanda had ever had to her seemed to fade in the dim light and she was left with sharp angles and unmoving muscles. "Or worse."

He laid his hand on her shoulder, part comfort, part restraint. "She's alive, Wanda. If only because the information she has is too valuable to lose. And we will find her." He squeezed her shoulder. "Who are you angriest at? Yourself... or her?"

Wanda glared at him over her shoulder but grunted slightly when he didn't back down. "Her. Myself. Both - I do not even know anymore. She was there for me for so long, Stephen, never changing, never wavering and then - all this. All these lies and for how long? And why? To protect the son that would kill her? I have been angry at her for a long time now and, at times lately, I have hated her."

Her voice dropped suddenly as she felt the sting of tears and she angrily wiped them away. "And despite all of that, the fucking woman gets herself hurt or worse, leaving me to worry and feel guilty!" She yanked her shoulder out from under his hand and turned towards him, almost snarling with her frustration and rage - and grief. A deep, overwhelming sense of grief that had been building for some time. "If she had only come to me earlier, none of this would be happening!"

"But she didn't. And you can't blame yourself for that, love." The endearment slipped out without him noticing. He laid his hands on her shoulders again, his grip firm but soothing. "Be angry at her for lying, for not trusting you, but don't let that anger turn back on yourself."

She was still scowling but it was slowly morphing into a wry expression. "It was not so long ago that you would have let me rage at you and roll all over you," Wanda huffed, feeling a mix of being put out and amusement. "I seemed to have looked away from you for longer than I had originally thought."

"People change," he replied with a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. "And I think it is good for you to have people you cannot walk over. It's why you work with who you work with, after all."

People change. She thought of Agatha and wondered if the old woman had changed or if this hidden facet had always been there, just waiting for the right moment to turn everything upside. Wanda groaned slightly and dropped her head forward onto Stephen's shoulder. "The in-between moments like this are the worst," she commented, voice muffled slightly by the angle. "Too much time to think and over think in the quiet."

He lifted a hand to stroke her head. "Waiting is never easy," he agreed. "Especially for a woman of action such as yourself. Unfortunately, there is not much else we can do but wait. I could perhaps help distract you?" The last was said entirely innocently.

She could lifted her head and she gave him a considering look. Whatever she was thinking about and mulling over at his words were decided upon fairly quickly and she smiled for the first time in days. "Why, yes, I think perhaps you could." Wanda's hands curled slightly in his shirt as she pulled him towards her and kissed him firmly.