Chapter Text
“Wanda Maximoff, you are under arrest for multiple violations of the Sokovia Accords, and need to come with me immediately.” Agent Jimmy Woo had suddenly swung out of an unmarked car’s driver’s seat, the vehicle pulled up on the curb, the door still open behind him. His words are firm, but his hands are empty, as he looks at Wanda with a serious but earnest face.
Multiple things happen simultaneously- the townspeople immediately close ranks, putting themselves between Agent Woo and Wanda, a human barrier forming on the smoldering remains of what was once the ghost of Wanda’s front lawn.
At the same time, Agatha sucks in the energy from the nervous magic Wanda’s radiating, like the tide going out before a tsunami. Scowling and sparking her eyes, she brings her monumental will to bear, and points at Agent Woo, channeling enough lightning to render him into a charred mark on the sidewalk.
The police seem to notice the brewing conflict and break off from their work. Two are aiming guns at the gathered crowd, at Agatha pointing her sparking finger at the federal agent.
Wanda shrieks into the bond between them, and with titanic force of effort, she pulls , grabbing the spell and squeezing the magic out of it, letting it disburse in a mist of red from her hands, eyes pulsing scarlet. There’s a singular puff of black smoke from the end of Agatha’s finger, and the assembled people let out a breath of relief that no magical violence seems forthcoming.
The police are not staid. They continue to aim their weapons at Agatha, at the townspeople, at her. Agatha in full witch garb is (stunning, awe-inspiring, attractive) intimidating, and these men seem to remember her hovering in the sky above the town square all those months ago.
Agatha growls, infuriated, and her hands glow violet. She looks ready to incinerate everyone in a hundred foot radius, hands out ready to cast like an animal surrounded on all sides. She’s on the offensive, and these cops have no idea who they’re dealing with.
“Ma’am, put down your weapon and back away from the civilians!” One shouts, coming closer. They’re approaching from all over, forming a ring around Agatha, Wanda and their friends.
“Stand down, FBI!” Agent Woo shouts.
It’s going to be impossible to stop Agatha from burning a hole through this town if things escalate any further. Wanda looks to Sarah Proctor, a question in her eyes. Sarah nods, looking afraid, her arm thrown out across her husband.
Wanda reaches out with her mind, ready to take control of the cops threatening her home when a shot rings out, shattering the air. Someone behind her falls.
The world spins. Wanda is sure it’s Agatha, sure she’s going to lose her again, but when she turns around Agatha is there, looking more enraged than ever. And on the ground, cradled in Isabel’s lap, is Sharon Davis.
She’s breathing fast, a red stain spreading across her daisy-patterned blouse. Her eyes are wide and afraid, darting back and forth as if she’s not sure exactly what just happened while Isabel frets, pressing her hands to the wound.
Wanda and Agatha reach out with their powers at the same time, and Wanda is prepared to fix this together when Agatha’s magic wraps around hers, surprisingly gently. I got this one, hot stuff, she says grimly into Wanda’s mind.
Hesitantly, Wanda pulls her magic back. She feels strangely calm, letting Agatha tend to Sharon while Wanda focuses again on the police, throwing her magic out in an arc. Still charged up from their recent battle, she catches each of their minds with ease, excluding Agent Woo’s, and with little sympathy she knocks them out. They crumple in unison in a ring around their island.
When she looks back at Sharon, she doesn’t know how to process what she’s seeing. Sharon looks absolutely fine, her chest glowing purple as Agatha kneels beside her, murmuring in her ear. There’s still a hole in her shirt, and an open wound beneath it weeping blood, but Sharon is listening to Agatha, distracted. It’s a very strange sight.
The rest of the townspeople, including Agent Woo, have gathered around her.
“I can help, I have first aid certification if you’d kindly move out of the way,” Agent Woo is saying to Mr. Davis, who is blocking his path.
“You’ve done enough, mister. Agatha here is doing a fine job, and unlike you, she has earned the full trust of this town,” Mr. Davis says, his furry brows knit tight.
“I… won’t even pretend to understand that, Mayor Davis. But I would feel a lot better if I could take a look myself, I mean, I can’t even tell what she’s doing-”
Afraid to pull Agatha’s focus, Wanda whispers into the bond between them. What’s going on?
Agatha looks up at Wanda and gives her a lopsided smile. Her fingers continue to twirl in the air, but as far as Wanda can tell she’s not doing anything complicated. She doesn’t even seem to be checking Sharon over, just producing little swirls of violet magic. No heart, sweetheart. No vital organs punctured here.
Wanda can’t believe what she’s hearing. As she puts it together in her head, she realizes what Agatha is saying. She removed Sharon’s heart. A straight shot to the chest hasn’t killed her. Her disastrous mistake has saved Sharon Davis’s life.
She looks down at Agatha, feeling something warm in the tips of her toes. So… what are you doing?
Agatha grins, looking around conspiratorially. They don’t know that, she thinks at Wanda, Everyone’s favorite PTA president just got shot, and she’s completely fine. But that is going to be very hard to explain to the pigs. A little magical healing is more commonplace around here than a heartless woman. Great work on that, by the way. In my day they dragged the witch away regardless of whose life she was saving. Or not saving. Agatha snorts out loud, and Sharon smiles in her direction.
“Thank you, my hero,” Sharon coos, batting her eyelashes. She winks at Wanda.
She is… shockingly calm about this. And I’m pretty sure she’s the principle of the school, not on the PTA, Wanda says.
All around them, doors are opening and other residents are emerging from their houses to see what’s happening. Some of them, Wanda recognizes. They’re sporting shimmering red limbs, and other altered features. She thought she’d glamoured everyone, but she must have failed a few. Or, it dawns on Wanda as she looks around at the perfect suburban scene-- now dotted with monsters waving from their porches-- they hadn’t come to see her at all, refusing her offer to hide their new mutations.
Slowly, people break off from their houses and families. A few normal-looking people approach, but Wanda recognizes them. She glamoured them, and before that, she healed them. But some of them aren’t glamoured at all. A woman with a bald, shining red head approaches the group, followed by a teenager with one wing jutting out of his back. He was a basketball player who took a hard fall during practice, fracturing his shoulder blade in a freak accident. Wanda caught herself thinking about how good it would feel to be restored, to leap, to fly, and before she knew it there was a scraggly wing under her hands. When she conjured it, it had been covered in tufts of threadbare fuzz. Now the boy walked toward her proudly, with a full-feathered brown wing dotted with cream colored spots.
More and more townspeople approach, weaving through the unconscious cops and joining the barrier of her friends. Before she knows it, there’s a wall of people standing between her and Agent Woo. She glances around, and she realizes that at the front of them all is Abil, barefoot, his dogs paw visible in the morning sun.
Wanda’s heart feels like it might burst. No one has ever protected her like this, not since Vision, and before him, Pietro. She sees Agatha, risen from her place beside Sharon, hovering a few feet off the ground behind the wall of people. She shoots Wanda a wink. You’ve got quite the pack of guard dogs, sweet cheeks. Let us handle this twerp.
“Wanda, what is this?” Agent Woo calls, but Wanda can’t even see him anymore. “Wanda, I know you’re not a bad person. You’re a hero. I know because all these people seem to want to protect you. Will you please come with me?”
Let me get out of town with him. Wanda thinks at Agatha. Then I’ll hit him with my red wiggly-woos .
Agatha audibly groans . I am going to kill you. She retorts. Red wiggly-woos. The derision is clear, but Wanda doesn’t have time to debate this with her, stepping forward through the crowd.
Or at least, she tries…