Do I Know You? — Death Doesn't Let You Say Goodbye

[xp-erverse.livejournal.com]

Quentin and Wanda bid goodbye to Daniella, and embark on resolving their own problems.


It was all done. Terror for 24-plus hours but it was over. Quentin, back in his own familiar body sat out on the front steps, joint in hand, as a nondescript car pulled away from the mansion to take Daniella Gauthier to her new life. She reached out telepathically to offer a final goodbye, and Quentin replied in kind. He surprised himself with the smile he wore and the lightness he felt and wondered if the weed was taking effect just two puffs in.

Or maybe he was actually happy.

That was really scary.

Wanda had emerged from the mansion just in time to see the car disappear down the driveway. It was probably for the best - Daniella was still reeling from her ordeal and it would probably have been too much to have everyone there when she was heading out. "Do we know where she's going?" she asked Quentin, watching the taillights disappear completely.

"Didn't think to ask," Quentin replied, exhaling a large puff of smoke. "Denver, maybe. Somewhere far away from the border, I'd guess. And much farther away from any goddamn church. Last thing she needs is more Jesus in her life."

"We have people checking into the one she's leaving behind," Wanda said, sitting in a nearby rocking chair with a sigh. The small of her back was tender to the touch thanks to the spells continued attempts to reconnect her back with the body she'd left behind. "Besides being completely terrible people in general, the number of laws they broke with their lying to Daniella to get her to agree to the procedure..." She grinned sharply. "I only wish I could be there in person when they kick down the doors."

"Can't believe you're trusting the flatscan police to actually do anything about this," Quentin scoffed. So much for being happy. "Why aren't you doing your murder-spy thing and fucking them up yourself? At least you can be trusted to fucking take care of them."

Wanda shook her head, tired and perhaps a little amused. "Because I am thinking of Daniella," she retorted. "Daniella does not need me fucking them up, as you say. What she needs is to know they were wrong in their treatment of her. She'll know that far more if they get paraded in front of a court and thrown into jail. Kicking down their door makes us feel better, not her."

Besides, she was going to keep extremely close tabs on the entire thing but that wasn't a conversation for now.

More of the same "go through the system, it will solve all your problems" rhetoric. Quentin should have known this would happen. "Well, when the courts find no evidence of wrongdoing — because they never do — I guess we can all feel good about ourselves that at least we tried. Go team us."

"As disappointed as you are with the outcome, Daniella will be better off for it. After all they put her through, she deserves closure. The real life closure people like her are used to." Wanda's body was relaxing into the rocking chair while her body complained in new ways about the aches she'd developed, probably when she was yanked from it.

Her eyes wandered over to Quentin and, surprisingly, she said "Whatever happens, though, I do want you to know that I think that you reached Gabriella the most. It wasn't a good situation for any of us but you did well." Wanda huffed a laugh. "Which sounds incredibly condescending when said aloud, I know. If it helps, it was said grudgingly." Now she was joking. A little.

"Now I know I must be hallucinating. What's in this?" he asked, eyeing his joint suspiciously. "Because I'm pretty sure that was a compliment and since when do you even know how to do those?"

She laughed again. "I compliment a lot of people, Mr. Quire, you just have never been the recipient. Until now. Take it as you will but ..." Wanda's voice drifted off for a moment as she realized she could share something with Quentin or simply leave it there. Before this, she wouldn't have even been on the same porch as him but now...

"I was once guided back," Wanda said softly, "much the same way we helped Daniella. I understand in part what she might be feeling now, though certainly not all of it. So, take it as you will but you did very well and she is grateful for your help."

"Is that so? What happened to you?" he asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

It was dark and he wasn't really looking at her so he didn't see her lips twitch at his attempt. "Something very old was trapped in a cage in the astral plane," came the response. "My powers drew it to me and, when it saw its chance, it mentally exchanged places with me. I was trapped in ..." She frowned, trying to find the right words. "A never ending desert but at the same time a completely tiny space in which I felt nothing and yet everything at the same time."

The years had done nothing to smooth the edges of those memories. "Thankfully, through the efforts of several telepaths here, I was able to take back my body. Though it was not without a considerable and rather messy fight."

Her words brought him back to Tuesday evening in the boutique. A neverending desert, stuffed into a prison of wind and sand, struggling to stand . . . "There's life in the Astral Plane? And it possessed you? What the hell was it?"

"The Astral Plane served as the prison. It originally existed - elsewhere. It and its brethren called themselves the Elder Gods and this one was Chthon, the Elder God of chaos." The memories were far too close to the surface for her liking and Wanda tiredly bid sleep for the night farewell. "That weird pain we all experienced? I have a safe guard on me, to prevent it from happening again. Apparently, it did not much care for reverse possession."

Quentin could feel anguish rising to the top of Wanda's mind, bubbling up like a stew on the stove. He clamped down on his meager shields and slid a couple of feet away, as if the physical distance between them would help keep her out of his head. "Elder gods. Sure, why not? Lovecraft wasn't horrible enough on paper, let's make his mind real life, too. And you have a magic alarm. You lead quite a life."

"My life has never been boring," she responded, a little more cheerfully than her previous tone. Wanda noticed Quentin shifting away from her and realized she was bleeding out. The world around her flared in muted reds and she asked quietly, "Is that better?"

Everything tasted red for a brief moment, and then he was blissfully alone in his head again. He took an extra long drag and slowly exhaled before nodding and grunting in gratitude, or what passed as gratitude for him. "Well, whatever. I guess I also owe you thanks for, you know, making sure we didn't die or get caught by the popo. So, you know."

"You're welcome." Despite herself, she was smiling now. Quentin was still an impossible person but she'd seen another side to him during their flight in Canada. Still wasn't enough to completely outweigh the aggravation sometimes but it was nice knowing there was something else beyond the anger and Magneto worship. "I am rather grateful Daniella does not remember any of that."

"It's about the last thing she needs," Quentin agreed. Especially if any memories came with impressions from any of the four. It would be impossible to forget Gabriel noticing the gawks and stares they received from almost every older man on the street, and the unique fear they provoked. "She doesn't want to stay here, and who can blame her? At least Chuckles has his friends in Colorado or wherever that can help her with her powers. Plus, skiing, which don't all Canadians do?"

On that, Wanda strangely agreed with him. The mansion was a good place but Daniella was not in the right headspace to be dropped into the middle of the chaos that surrounded the mansion. "She'll be given the training she needs and, more importantly, the space and time she needs to heal and figure out who she is. She deserves it."

"She deserves a lot more." He hoped she would get her chance at retribution some day but, glancing over his shoulder at Wanda again, he would not voice that wish out loud. "They were going to kill her. They had her on the chair and the injection ready. If we hadn't . . ."

"But we did." Wanda's voice was firm. "We stopped it and she's safe. I am not saying to forget about their actions but you have to focus on the fact that you were part of saving that girl. There are not enough wins in this world to overlook the ones we get."

"True enough," he relented. They sat in silence for a little while. The sun continued to set and the first hints of starlight peaked through the darkening sky. Quentin finished his joint and extinguished it on the concrete before spinning around so he actually faced Wanda. "Why aren't you with your father?" he asked without preamble or pretense.

The question took her by surprise but, really, it shouldn't have considering their first encounter. Wanda didn't answer right away because she didn't want to toss off a flippant answer which she would have done before the last few days.

"There are a few reasons. The primary one is that I do not believe in his point of view. I have witnessed how far he is willing to go to make those beliefs happen and it ... scares me how far he has gone and how much farther he'd go." She leaned forward, arms dangling over her knees. "I have a very hard time reconciling the man that came into my life when I needed him very badly to the man who believes that kidnapping is a viable action. Among other things."

"Even ignoring the actions he's taken, you don't think maybe he has a point, though? Like, especially after all this. This is exactly what he warns about. Illegal and deadly experimentation on mutants. Turning us into playthings and discarding our humanity because they can't handle us."

"No, Quentin, I do not because I feel if I were to start painting all of humanity with one brush that I am doing no better than the ones that paint us all with one. Besides, I have encountered evil and hate in mutants and humans both - too much to follow my father's footsteps." The chair creaked loudly as Wanda leveraged herself to a standing position.

"And I know myself well enough to admit that I am enough of my father's daughter in some ways that I cannot afford to go down those roads myself."

Quentin's hand unconsciously went to his forearm where he had sketched Magneto's tattoo. He had washed it off long ago, but he still felt himself withering under her judgmental stare. "You buy that whole 'hate just breeds more hate' crap? They'd hate us even if we were literally slaves."

"Some would," she agreed. "But not all. Nothing is pure black and white and thinking it is leads to dangerous places." Wanda wondered if she had ever been this young and angry before. "You need to find your own path, without the rhetoric of others, including my own brand of bullshit. Which you probably think this all is, so take it as you will." Again, surprisingly, her words held amusement, not anger.

"Yeah well, to me, everyone's bullshit, so what the fuck ever," Quentin snorted. He was interrupted by a loud pinging sound, and he looked around for the source like a confused dog before he realized it was his phone. And he smiled like a dog with a bone when he saw the text he'd received. "Well, almost everyone. I gotta take this. Try not to get possessed anymore while I'm gone."