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“So, what’ll it be toots?”
“Take it,” Wanda barely had to think before making her decision. “I don’t care how, just… take it away from me.”
Wanda felt Vision quickly approaching.
“Hurry,” Wanda lessened her powers from her palms and walked towards Agatha in desperation. “Tell me what to do.”
“Mom, what?” Billy said, shocked. Wanda refused to look either of her children in the eye.
“It’ll be ok babies.”
Agatha’s eyes had widened and, for once, she seemed speechless. “Okay, that was easy,” she muttered. Wanda faintly felt proud at causing her shock. “Give me your hand and focus on moving your power into me,” her gaze hardened, "and if you start getting any ideas about killing me, well... neither I nor my magic will take that lightly."
Wanda did as she was told. The power surging through her fingers into the palm she was holding and began to…
“Jesus, girlie,” Agatha gasped. “Ease up a little and don't shove it all in at once, little at a time or you’ll shrivel up like a raisin.”
Wanda felt Vision land behind her. Returning to focus on the steady siphoning of her powers into the woman in front of her. Her red slowly being absorbed by Agatha’s purple.
“Wanda, what’re you...” Vision’s voice. Close, too close.
“I’m sorry,” Wanda clenched her eyes shut and pushed as much as she thought Agatha could handle. Since Agatha said nothing to stop her again, she assumed this amount of flowing power was enough.
Strong hands on her shoulders. Two pairs of arms around her midsection. Voices she couldn’t allow herself to hear.
Wanda just continued pouring herself into Agatha and let her tears fall silently until she couldn’t feel anything at all.
Monica Rambeau came to in a room surrounded by black roots coated in a purple hue. Last she remembered was a guy coming up to her as she was about to enter the basement. Guess he helped out with that. The man’s body was slumped on the ground of the basement. Quickly getting her bearings, Monica got off the ground and stepped over the man’s body. Faint wisps of purple and black energy leaving his unconscious body.
She had to find Wanda.
Luckily she didn’t have to look far. Almost as soon as she left the basement, Monica found the other woman standing listlessly in front of an empty plot of land where her house used to stand.
“Wanda?” Monica approached cautiously, then realized the red glow around her body, so prevalent last time she saw her, was gone.
“Geral…” Wanda turned to her quickly but her eyes were slow to focus. “That’s probably not even your real name.”
“Monica, Monica Rambeau. I tried talking with you before Hayward…”
“Hayward,” the venom, the head tilt, the anger was all there. But the unimaginable power Wanda’s rage usually tapped into… that alone caused Monica to step closer.
“We’ve gotta get you outta here and find Vision, he’s…”
“He’s gone.”
“What?”
“Gone.”
“But he was being tracked…”
“A new body. I made him. When I gave up my powers I felt him leave too. Felt them all... leave.” Wanda’s face screwed up in grief and rage as she looked towards the empty plot of land. She swayed and Monica closed the gap between the two of them and let her collapse into her arms. Wanda clutched Monica tightly as she heaved. Monica didn't fully understand what had happened but the power she had felt wash over her so many times in the woman’s presence was gone. It was unnerving and relieving.
“I can’t feel anything else, I only feel…”
“You’re feeling you, Wanda. Don’t lock yourself away from it again. You’re safe to let yourself feel it. Let it out.”
Wanda pulled away to look into her eyes, desperate, and for once Monica wasn’t afraid of seeing desperation mix with red in Wanda’s eyes. This was a very human manifestation of red with tears streaming down her face.
“I’m safe?”
Monica nodded, “You’re safe.” A definitive answer on all applicable levels. Wanda seemed to crumble further, trying to pull Monica to the pavement. Monica let her, and let her own grief be expressed as well. Both for her mother and for Wanda. As Wanda's cries hit her ears, Monica couldn't literally feel Wanda's grief anymore, but she was reminded of all the times hearing those cries in her head and her own grief being suppressed and enhanced by it. Monica refused to see her empathy, her connection to and perception of humanity, as a weakness. If she could help Wanda in any way, it could be this.
And if Monica’s new superhuman perception couldn’t help but notice traces of leftover red skitter once or twice across Wanda’s body as she finally let everything out… well…
That was a conversation for another time.