Chapter Text
“Aww,” Darcy coos as she watches the housewife on screen lean in to kiss her husband.
Scratch that; as she watches Wanda Maximoff of The Avengers lean in to kiss Vision, formerly of The Avengers. Because last she heard, he was still dead.
The superhero news magazines are usually more reliable than the run of the mill celebrity gossip rags, just because superheroes seem to be even more inclined to air their dirty laundry in very public spectacles. It’s possible they called this one wrong though, and Vision didn’t die fighting Thanos. But if that’s the case then the entire intelligence community gathered around her called it wrong too, because Darcy is good at reading people and they all seem just as surprised as she is, even if they’re trying to save face by saying that that all of that information is classified.
Well, the snap was a confusing time for everyone, even Men in Black types, Darcy supposes. For example, one moment you’re enjoying a friends-with-benefits-maybe-starting-to-edge-towards-something-more kind of arrangement with your roommate, the next thing you know she disappears for five years. Comes back to find that you’ve finished your PhD and moved to another state and that what was an acceptable age gap before has become kind of a weird age gap and trying to pick things up where you left off is just not in the cards.
Darcy still feels bad about it. And feels bad about feeling bad about it. Blip Induced Guilt Complex is a thing, but it’s for people who remarried or who missed watching their kids grow up, not for people who missed out on a hot fling with an undergrad that, in retrospect, would never have had a future even without cosmic interference. Darcy knows she’s way luckier than a lot of people. Way luckier.
Breath bitch. Be generous with yourself, Darcy reminds herself. Just let yourself feel your dumb feelings. It’s not like there’s some finite supply of grief in the world and you’re taking it away from someone who needs it more. Plenty of grief to go around.
Maybe that’s why she finds herself so drawn in by the sappy sitcom that Wanda and Vision are apparently trapped in. Comfort TV, right? What the world needs now is schmaltz, sweet schmaltz. Darcy never really got the appeal of sitcoms before. Watching Gillmor Girls with her mom had been their thing for a little while, but only until her mom decided Gray’s Anatomy should be their thing instead, and that was pretty much it for Darcy’s experience with sitcoms. But she gets it now. It’s safe and comforting. Well, that and watching Wanda swish around in her campy little retro housewife outfits isn’t too bad either.
So, even when it turns out that Wanda isn’t so much trapped in the anomaly as she is somehow causing the anomaly…Darcy still kind of gets it. The world sucks. No argument there.
Still, you can’t just kidnap an entire town and force them to act as supporting characters, just so you can play house with a dead guy. All those people have loved ones too and hopes and feelings that matter just as much as anyone else’s, even if they are from New Jersey. So Darcy goes back to the drawing board on that radio idea. And decides that she’s going to be the one to talk to Wanda this time.
“Wait, start over,” Agent Woo says. “How does it work?”
“By piggybacking off of the field that Wanda is emitting I can…” Darcy sees no comprehension in his eyes and puffs out her cheeks to stifle a sigh. “Forget it, how it works isn’t what’s important. It’ll let me talk directly to Wanda, and without even having to go through an electronic device.”
“Like, telepathically?”
“For all intents and purposes, it will appear that way to her. She’ll be able to hear my voice. I’ll be able to talk her down. Talk her out of it.”
“Hey why you? Why not-“
“Because I’m so damn charming and personable,” Darcy gives him a beaming smile. “And because it’s my god damn machine and you can’t play with it.”
“Can’t argue with that I guess. Alright, let me spot you then.”
“Sure,” Darcy shrugs and flips some switches to charge up the device. She pops on a headset while she waits for display to give her the reading she wants. Everything looks go for launch and Darcy pulls the metaphorical trigger. There’s a pulse of energy and Darcy Lewis is gone, leaving only a slowly rotating desk chair where she once was.
---
She blinks her eyes as the light is suddenly brighter and finds she’s laying on an unfamiliar couch.
“What?”
“You fell asleep darling,” a woman’s voice sweetly reassures her and the next thing Darcy knows, Wanda is placing a blanket on her with a look of tender adoration in her eyes. Darcy bolts upright but can’t seem to form words.
“You’re -you – you’re…” Is she under Wanda’s control? No…Darcy realizes. She’s just star struck. Which is ridiculous because she isn’t meeting a tv star. She’s meeting a superhero. But she’s done that before without forgetting how to talk, and that was with a superhero who was also an entire god. Though maybe Wanda is too, come to that. If you can bend reality to suit your whim then at what point does one…
“Darling? Is something wrong?”
“I –no-- I’m not supposed to be here.”
Wanda blinks at this statement and looks puzzled for a moment before realization and then…fear? Dawns in her eyes.
“Who are you?” She asks, standing up and backing away a step. “You aren’t….him… you aren’t--aren’t… why can’t I…”
“Whoa, whoa, it’s ok,” Darcy starts, springing to her feet and raising her hands in front of her in the universal symbol of ‘don’t freak out’. “My name is Darcy Lewis and I’m here to—”
“Vision,” Wanda declares, shaking her head. “Vision is my husband! You’re an imposter!” Red light pools in her hands and then surges towards Darcy, who only has time to squeak and throw an arm over her face before…before…before blue light surrounds Darcy and deflects it.
Darcy looks around, waiting for whoever just saved her to reveal themselves.
“How did you do that?” Wanda asks, arms raised in front of her, ready to attack again or to block an attack. Silence stretches for a long moment.
“Oh shit! I did that?!”
~Commercial Break~
Darcy examines her hands, turning them this way and that. “How in the fuck…?”
“Please stop cursing!” Wanda snaps but she’s lowered her hands and the red light is gone and then her expression becomes strangely calm again all at once and she steps towards Darcy and says. “Honey, I know things are stressful at work… but you’re home now and everything’s going to be all right. Because I love you.”
Darcy hears the disembodied voices of the audience awwww, as Wanda puts her arms around Darcy and pulls her in for a kiss. “Now knock of the potty mouth in front of the twins, you goof.” Wanda gives her the cutest little mischievous smile as she tweaks Darcy’s nose and steps away towards the nursery and Darcy can’t help but grin like an idiot and think that’s my wife!
Wait.
No.
Incorrect.
Darcy shakes her head much the same way Wanda did moments before. That was – that was an intrusive thought, times a thousand. Someone is controlling her mind. Trying to puppet her just like all the other inhabitants of Westview. Except she thought that the person doing that was Wanda. So why did Wanda decided to substitute Darcy for her admittedly, probably dead, robot husband instead of casting her as another wacky neighbor? Is she, Darcy Lewis, just that irresistible? Possibly, but there may be another explanation as well. Could Monica have been wrong about Wanda being the puppet master?