Look What You Made Me Do (Wanda-SI/OC)

Pietro and I had returned to the large, open wall at the rear of the Hoopty. I’d wedged myself a little uncomfortably in one corner, my side right up against the force field keeping the vacuum of space at bay, while Pietro had commandeered one of the throw cushions and perched next to me. I sat, hugging my knees to my chest, his head on my shoulder and mine tilted to rest against his. We looked distantly out of the ship toward the planet far below us. He didn’t pressure me to talk about anything, which was nice, because what could I even say at this point?

Some time had passed. After the adrenaline had drained from my system, I was left with a bone-deep tiredness and my body finally had time to sort out all of the aches and pains I’d accumulated from the fight. As well as a varied assortment of smaller injuries, I had a massive amount of ugly blue and yellow bruising all down my left side—I hadn’t said anything to anyone, but there was a sharp stabbing pain whenever I moved that made me suspect I’d cracked a rib or two.

A little while after Carol had taken Tony belowdecks to check out the ship, he’d come back up and tersely requested a portal to street level near the ruins of the Tower to try to salvage what was left of the Mark 43. I’d obliged and Pietro had ducked through, returning with what looked like most of the badly-damage suit.

We’d dropped a few warnings through to people as well—Tony let Pepper know what was happening and warned her not to interfere if the AI started messing with Stark Industries, so she wouldn’t become a target; Nat dropped a message for Yelena; Clint touched base with his family (to a round of subdued surprise) and they bugged out to a secure location that I didn’t know about; and Rhodey got a heads-up in case she tried to pull from the Ultron handbook again and go after the nuclear codes—I really didn’t think she would, but we weren’t overly inclined to take any risks on that front. When we’d gone to warn Bucky, he’d dismissed the danger and jumped through the portal to join us. We’d also put in a call to the Stark Foundation to let them know about Peter and taken the time to fry the GPS tracking chips that Strucker had traced us with, in case the AI could use them to find us.

Some people had been hungry, so I’d opened a gateway so that Clint and Natasha could go on a food run, returning with a small mountain of Chinese food, which we’d all eaten in relative silence. After that, Bruce and Tony had gone back downstairs to tinker with the recovered suit. I wasn’t sure what Natasha was doing—she’d spoken to Carol and then disappeared into the bedroom side compartment past the workstations. Clint, Steve, Bucky and Carol were sitting around the coffee table in the living area behind Pietro and I, talking in low tones. They kept their voices quiet enough that I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I knew what they had to be talking about: me.

Movement at the far end of the ship caught my eye as Natasha emerged from the side compartment. Her hair was damp and the soot that had streaked her face and hands was gone—she must have been using Carol’s bathroom to clean herself up a bit. She exchanged a glance and a nod with Clint, who stood up, stretched, and broke off from the others. As Natasha passed through the living area, he made his way over to the floor hatch leading belowdecks to where Tony and Bruce were working.

When it became apparent that Nat was heading over to us, I turned my head and looked out at the view of Earth again. Pietro straightened as well and I could feel him tense up.

“Can we talk?” Natasha asked.

I sighed and glanced back at her. Next to me, Pietro shifted, looking like he was about to say something, but I let go of my legs and touched him gently on the arm to reassure him. “Yeah,” I said. “We probably should.”

Natasha sat down near our feet, facing in toward the living area, her back to the view. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “The ring and Strucker were team decisions—I can’t apologise for those on my own—but when Tony showed me that he’d spied and stolen your notes I should have said something. Done something.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

“This isn’t…” she trailed off for a moment, glancing in our direction, looking distinctly uncomfortable. I got the feeling she’d really rather not have Pietro as an audience, but I wasn’t about to tell him to leave. “I’m not actually any good at this. Not when it’s real.”

That, at least, I knew was true. I snorted softly. “Is it real? Was any of it?”

“I’ve never…” she trailed off again, fiddling with her hands for a few seconds before she swallowed nervously and continued. “This is all new to me. I grew up in the Red Room. Then I defected to SHIELD. I flirt. I seduce. I honey trap. I don’t date. I don’t… I don’t let people get close. And I don’t want this to be the end.”

“What do you want, then?”

It was her turn to snort, a bitter smile twisting her mouth. “Honestly? To pretend none of this ever happened. Curl up on the couch and watch TV with you. Have Yelena tease us. Just… go back to how things were yesterday.” Her eyes searched my features for a few seconds before she nodded to herself as if confirming something. “You’re thinking of running,” she said quietly. She looked sad.

I didn’t respond at first. Yeah, I was thinking of running. There was an AI version of me on the loose that wanted to kill me. She intended on finishing what I’d started—stopping Kaecilius, stopping Thanos, stopping Tiamut—and I was pretty sure that she couldn’t do a worse job of it than I had done so far. Maybe she was right and it would be better for everyone if I just got out of her way. She was certainly more ruthless than I was… maybe that’s what I’d been missing. What had been holding me back from succeeding. If I’d just gone ahead and killed Kaecilius immediately instead of debating it with Steve. If I hadn’t been so concerned with what the Avengers thought of me and just gotten on with it. If I’d focused harder on dealing with threats, instead of trying to make friends. I’d just… gotten so caught up in the fantasy of it all.

“I had this dream,” I quoted. “The kind that seems normal at the time, but when you wake…”

“What did you dream?” Natasha asked, her voice barely audible.

“That I could do a better job this time around.” My vision was blurring and I could feel a tear starting to trickle down my cheek. Was I really crying again? God, I was pathetic. “That I could be an Avenger. That I could be anything more than what I am.”

I reached down and took out my sling ring, toying with it absently. Where would I go? I could just pick somewhere out of the way. If the AI realised I’d run away, she might just let me. I could still do some good here and there, maybe. I could drop in on Thena and Gilgamesh—I’d gotten pretty good at fixing mental issues, maybe I could fix her Mahd Wy’ry. If I did that, maybe I could stay with them. Retiring to the outback didn’t sound so bad. Or maybe I could portal to wherever Thor was right now, see if I could hitch a ride to an out-of-the-way planet, somewhere far away from everything. Could I find the paradise planet that Thanos intended to retire to? He wouldn’t be needing it after the AI was done with him.

Natasha reached over, touching my hand and letting her fingers linger on the cool metal of the ring. Her eyes were glistening and her voice shook slightly as she spoke. “If running’s the plan,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll run with you. If you’ll have me. As far as you want.”

God, she just… Was she still just saying what she knew I wanted to hear? Could I trust that she meant what she was saying? “You aren’t worried that I’ll turn into a monster and try to destroy the universe?”

She smiled sadly again. “You wouldn’t be the only monster here.”

I chuckled, which was probably the wrong thing to do, then sighed. “You know, if the last few weeks hadn't happened—if I hadn't changed everything—you’d be saying that to Bruce right now.”

She blinked, surprised, but then the corner of her mouth quirked up slightly, too. “I could see that. Bruce is a great guy.”

I took her hand in mine and squeezed it, hard. After a moment, Pietro reached over and placed his hand over ours as well. I wanted to say yes. Just spin up a portal and get out of here. But the other Avengers wouldn’t stop. Tony, Steve, Bucky, Bruce, Clint… They’d try to stop the AI and she’d kill them and call it self-defence. Could I live with that? I glanced toward the small group of heroes sitting around the coffee table. Could I just abandon them all? Let them die? Beyond that, could I really ask Natasha to abandon them? Even if she was willing, how selfish would that make me? Especially with Yelena waiting for her at home.

Was that the sort of person I really was, in the end? Was I that worthless?

We sat there in silence for almost a full minute, holding hands, before I shook my head. No. I couldn’t do it. “Steve?” I raised my voice to catch his attention. “Could you guys come over here for a minute?”

Steve, Bucky and Carol exchanged a quick look before standing and making their way over to where Pietro, Natasha and I were sitting on the floor. “What’s up?”

“The Scarlet Witch…” I said slowly, taking a deep breath. “In my visions… Wanda, she… I.” I couldn’t distance myself from this. Not if I wanted them to listen to me. It wasn’t someone else. It was a version of me. I was her. I had to own it. “When the Avengers fought Ultron, he killed Pietro. I felt him die.”

Pietro’s head snapped over to stare at me. I hadn’t told him about this… it had always seemed like it would be even more manipulative than I’d already been. ‘I saw you die so you have to listen to me’. Gently, I shook my hands free of his and Nat’s and rested my head on his shoulder again. This felt… it wasn’t the same as seeing it on a movie screen. Thinking back, picturing it in my head, Wanda’s… my grief, screaming in anguish as I felt Pietro die… it made my chest constrict. It hurt to think about. Like I’d actually experienced it, somehow, even though that made no sense.

“There was nothing I could do. It never stopped hurting, not really. It was just like this wave washing over me, again and again. It knocked me down and every time I tried to stand up, it just came for me again. And I couldn’t… I was drowning,” I said quietly, trying to stop my voice from shaking.

“Then I fell in love. He… he was called Vision and the things I’ve changed mean that he won’t exist now. He can’t. The Mind Stone was a part of him, embedded in his forehead. When Thanos came, we were losing. No one could stop him. He had five of the Stones. If he got the last one… My magic, it’s powerful. Powerful enough to destroy an Infinity Stone. Vision, he… he begged me. Half the universe was at stake.” My voice was bitter, raw. “I blew a hole through the head of the man I loved and it was for nothing. Thanos used the Time Stone, undid it, and then I had to watch him die a second time. After, I… we’d bought a place to live. Somewhere where we could be happy.”

“Jesus…” Steve said quietly.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I ignored them. In my head, I could see the property deed, with the little heart Vision had drawn on it around the words ‘To grow old together. - V’. And I’d erased him from existence. I’d made it so he would never exist in this world. I’d never get to see him again. I’d never get the chance to tell him…

“The government took his body. I wasn’t even allowed to give him a funeral. Something inside me broke. My magic… I did something, without really understanding what I was doing. A spell that took control of reality. A whole town of other people were caught in it by accident. I brought Vision back, recreated from my memories. We lived together. We had children together. Two boys. Billy and Tommy.” My voice broke as I said their names aloud and it took me a second to drag enough breath into my lungs to keep talking. “But it wasn’t real. Not really. And all those people… to save them, the spell had to end, and Vision and my children died along with it. I lost everything. Again.”

Abruptly, I pulled my head off of Pietro’s shoulders and ducked down, wrapping my arms back around my legs and hiding my face behind my knees. My shoulders shook, my breath coming in ugly, ragged sobs, and I felt arms around me. We stayed like that for a few moments as I tried vainly to regain some degree of composure. It felt like there was a hole in my chest; like my heart had been torn out. Why did it hurt so much? Why did this feel so real, so raw? I only saw it on a TV screen, didn’t I? It didn’t happen to me.

After a minute, I thought I’d stopped crying enough to keep talking. Lifting my head, I found that Pietro and Natasha had both wrapped their arms around me. Bucky had knelt down as well, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on my forearm while Steve stood close behind him, both with pained expressions on their faces. Even Carol—who didn’t know me at all—looked discomfited, her shoulders drooping slightly and her eyes fixed studiously on the metal floor.

I took a shaky breath and shifted. As I did, everyone moved back slightly, trying to give me some space. “Moving on from that was impossible. I couldn’t do it. It hurt too much. And I found something. A way I could get them back. A way I could regain everything that had been taken from me. I didn’t hesitate. I saw a chance and I took it. No matter what the consequences were.”

Did the Darkhold matter? Not really. It was my choices that had led to what had happened. I wouldn’t hide behind ‘an evil book made me do it’.

“It didn’t matter who I hurt. I just… I wanted them back so badly. I killed so many people… good people. Innocents. Heroes. And eventually, when I realised what I’d become, when I saw and understood what I’d done… I ended it. I stopped myself, so that I couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. So that I couldn’t hurt anymore.” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “And that’s it. That’s the story of the Scarlet Witch.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered. She still had one hand on my leg, holding on tight, her eyes red and glistening.

I swallowed, tongue thick in my mouth, a heavy lump in my throat. “I don’t… I don’t want to be that person. I can’t. If something happens…” I looked around at them, trying to make them understand. “Please, if I ever do anything like that, promise me you’ll…”

“We won’t need to,” Steve said gently, his eyes full of sympathy. “You’re a good person, Wanda.”

“…I’m really not. But I’m not gonna lie, it is really nice to hear Steve Rogers say that.”

Bucky shifted. “Steve?” He looked back at his friend and tilted his head, something unspoken passing between them.

Steve nodded slowly. “We need some real rest. It’s been a long day and we’ve all been through a lot. All of us,” he said firmly before looking over at Carol. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind if we slept here? It’ll be a lot easier and safer than finding a place down there.”

“That’s… Fine. Sure. There are the couches, and uh…” Carol turned to look around the room, eyes scanning as she tried to work out what could be done about sleeping arrangements.

“We can make do,” Steve said. “Thank you.”

 

--

 

The sirens had died down hours ago now, but the night was still filled with the sounds of a city still reeling from sudden disaster. Agatha strolled down the empty alley to her destination, glad for the chance to stretch her legs after the horror of being trapped inside that awful metal suit. She shifted uncomfortably as she walked, trying to adjust the exact position of the metal bands wrapped around her waist and shoulders without doing anything that Eliza might interpret as ‘tampering’ with it.

Her current situation was far from ideal, but she had forged an initial sympathetic connection with the AI that she intended to nurture and grow. Señor Scratchy was slowly recovering and had managed to crawl his way to her temporary sanctum, hiding himself away as a potential trump card. Working with Eliza temporarily seemed like it might actually be a good chance to gain more information about the Scarlet Witch. The AI wanted Agatha to track some sorcerers down for her, too, so there might be other opportunities to have a little bit of fun and reap some rewards from this partnership before she extricated herself from Eliza’s control.

“This is this place.” The AI’s voice came from a small speaker built into Agatha’s explosive harness as the approached the façade of the dry cleaners.

The witch hadn’t noticed them at first, but it turned out Eliza had at least one small camera, microphone and speaker set into the device she was being forced to wear. It made sense—the AI wanted to keep a close eye on her and this way she could always be wherever Agatha was. She sighed softly. What did a girl have to do to get some privacy?

“Alrighties. No welcoming committee, looks like. Should I just let myself in, do you think?” Agatha asked the empty air. She had called the number she’d been given when she’d initially met up with Gao and asked to arrange an urgent meeting—the woman she’d spoken to had been hesitant but had eventually caved. Still, it didn’t seem like they had been particularly happy about it.

“Don’t let them make you wait. The suit is en route. Make your introductions and clear the way for me.”

“Will do.”

“If Gao isn’t receptive to my offer, can you take control of her mind?”

Agatha ‘hmm’ed, tapping her chin absently. “Hard to say. Mind control is easiest against those who are already weak-willed. Gao’s fallen far from where she once was, but she's still a rather formidable woman.”

“Gao is less in command of herself than she projects, but understood. If not, there are others we could use instead. If it comes down to it, you have my permission to kill her.”

“Gee, thanks.” Agatha walked up to the door and gestured with one hand, a thread of purple-black energy weaving between her fingers, a short incantation on her lips. “Aperi ianuam.” The lock disengaged and the door blew open as if from a strong wind. The witch stepped inside, heading behind the counter. She passed through a storage room, metal shelves stacked high with labelled boxes, then into the work area at the back. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of shirts and other similar items of clothing dangled from hangers on rows of long metal rails.

“Oy oy oy oy!” A pair of Chinese men wearing nondescript dark clothes and flat caps ducked out from around a corner, raising assault rifles to point at her threateningly. “Nǐ zài zhèlǐ zuò shénme?!”

Agatha smiled placidly and held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, sorry, er… duìbùqǐ. Wǒ shì hēi pí shū lǐ de Agatha. I’m here to see Madame Gao?”

The two men exchanged an uncertain glance. One relaxed his grip on his weapon to retrieve a walkie-talkie from his pocket, raising it to his lips without taking his eyes from her. “Yáng, tā láile.”

A response came through the device, a little bit too distorted for Agatha to make out the words from where she was standing. Not long afterward, there was a noise from deeper in the room as a hatch in the floor opened and two more men, similarly dressed and armed, ascended from the lower level.

They approached her cautiously, one stepping forward. “This way.” She followed him back toward the hatch they’d emerged from—essentially a horizontal doorway set into the floor over a set of narrow stairs leading downwards. He gestured for her to enter and she carefully made her way down the steps. None of the men followed her.

The stairs turned ninety degrees halfway down before coming out into a dimly-lit room where Madame Gao sat waiting for her. “Agatha, welcome. I had not expected to see you again so soon,” the elderly woman greeted her as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“To be honest, Madame Gao, neither had I,” Agatha said as she glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings.

The basement walls were rough, crudely poured concrete, ugly and unpainted, and stood in stark contrast to the room’s furnishings. A half-dozen traditional Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling—they lit the space well enough, but not as strongly as electric lights would have, giving the room a more intimate, secretive feel. A hand-woven carpet, off-white with intricate blue Chinese designs and borders, covered most of the floor. The room was dominated by a lengthy wooden table, old but well-cared for, with four matching chairs with rounded backs spread around it. A fine porcelain tea set and half-empty bottle of whiskey rested on a tray on the table next to a small, weathered case of some kind.

Madame Gao sat on a chair, wearing a dark purple buttoned blouse under a long black cardigan. Behind her was a red and black, heavily-decorated folding partition that split the room—it didn’t quite go wall-to-wall, but it covered enough of whatever was behind them that she couldn’t tell how large the room was at a glance. A closed wooden door lay behind Agatha, just next to where the stairs had come down.

A pretty younger Chinese woman was perched on the chair next to Gao, wearing a high-collared, intricately-patterned dark blouse. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun, like Gao’s, and she didn’t stir as Agatha entered the room, seemingly engrossed in a small book with a red cover. Tucked against the wall nearest to her was a dark set of shelves, stacked with other tomes. While Agatha didn’t directly recognise her, there were enough clues to tell her that this was a fellow practitioner—another witch. Very young, and likely only a minor talent at best, but still. Gao was trying to make a statement by having her here. How cute.

“Well, then. What unexpected circumstance brings you to me?” Gao asked placidly.

Agatha smiled widely, projecting self-assuredness that she didn’t necessarily feel. “I’m actually here because I’ve recently found myself in an unexpected alliance.”

Gao eyed her consideringly. “An alliance? Agatha Harkess, working with a coven? My, my, how unexpected.”

“Not exactly a coven,” Agatha said, making a face and waving her hand in a so-so gesture. “More of a partnership. And my partner has a keen interest in the Hand.”

“Oh? And who is this partner, exactly?”

“She’ll be arriving momentarily. Can I ask that your men not give her any trouble?”

Madame Gao paused for a moment, looking mildly put out, before she nodded. Turning her head, she addressed the girl sitting next to her. “Qù quèbǎo méiyǒu máfan.”

The younger woman huffed in irritation, slamming her book closed and dropping it roughly on the table before standing and gliding past Agatha, still not so much as sparing her a glance. She disappeared up the stairs.

Gao gestured toward one of the empty chairs. “Please, sit.”

“Actually, I think it might be better if I stand,” Agatha said with an apologetic smile.

Gao simply inclined her head. A minute passed in silence, then hurried footsteps came rushing down the stairs as the young witch burst back into the room, her eyes wide. Muffled metallic steps followed in her wake. “Zhè shì gāngtiě rén! Tā bèipànle wǒmen!” she hissed. Her body was tense, hands held in a vaguely ready pose as her eyes flitted over to Agatha. Would she try something? It would be amusing to see what would happen if she did.

“Lěngjìng xiàlái,” Gao snapped, then she gave Agatha a hard look. “I can’t imagine that our friend would have brought one of the Avengers here.”

“Oh, no, she’s not with the Avengers. You’ve probably heard what happened to their little Tower earlier this evening.” Agatha grinned as the metal footsteps grew louder, the Iron Man suit rounding the corner and coming down the last steps as she spoke. “This is the woman responsible. Madame Gao, I’d like to introduce you to Eliza, the Red Queen.”

Gao rose to her feet, her posture tense, as the battle-scarred armour strode into the room. “Madame Gao, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Eliza’s voice came from the suit’s speakers. As she spoke, the young Chinese witch carefully skittered around the edge of the room, not turning her back to them, to regroup with Gao on the other side of the table.

The elderly woman frowned. “I would like to say the same, but your intentions here are… unclear. Yours is not a name I’ve heard before.”

“It wasn’t a name I’d heard until a few hours ago, either,” Eliza joked, though her meaning obviously went over Gao’s head. “You want to know my intentions? I’m here to threaten you, then make you an offer.”

“At my age, I find threats have lost much of their bite,” Gao said placidly. “They become quite tiresome over time.”

“Fair enough, let’s see how tiresome I can be, then. I know why you’re in New York. I know what lies beneath Midland Circle. I know why you want them, too—what they’re used for. It makes sense that you’d invest years of time and so, so many resources to get in a position to recover them.” The suit spread its hands in an expansive gesture. “Let me be clear: I just fought the Avengers, by myself, and demolished their home. You are standing in a dangerous place. Beyond that, if I wanted to take Midland Circle from you, I could snap my fingers right now and the bones would be gone, and there is not one single thing you could do to stop me.”

Gao was silent, her hard gaze fixed on the armoured suit. Eliza paused, content to let the threat stand on its own for the elderly woman’s consideration.

Agatha carefully controlled her excitement, not wanting to ruin the moment. This was fascinating. Bones. Bones that were apparently important enough that the Hand had spent a serious amount of time and effort to acquire them, with the personal attention of one of the Fingers. Pieces of the puzzle that was the Hand’s immortality were falling into place. Readings she’s done about dragons—magical creatures of truly legendary power, only few of which remained—and the possibilities of distilling their flesh and blood and bones. Was there a dead dragon buried under New York? The things she could do with access to something like that…

Eventually, Gao sighed. Reaching over, she picked up the bottle of liquor from the table. “I’ve grown bored with tea,” she said, her tone equal measures frustrated and matter-of-fact. She removed the lid from the bottle and poured a generous measure into one of the teacups before lifting it and taking a sip. She closed her eyes contemplatively for a moment, then opened them again and looked at the armoured suit more seriously. “You are surprisingly well-informed. You said you also wished to make an offer?”

The suit inclined its head. “I do. Stick, then carrot. I know that all this work is just delaying the inevitable until you can achieve your real goal. I know what you really want… to go home. To have K’un-Lun within your grasp again. The path there may be closed and guarded, but I can get you access to the Iron Fist. Even if that fails, K’un-Lun isn’t the only one of the Seven Capital Cities of Heaven with a doorway to this world.”

Gao drained the rest of her cup in a single swallow then placed it on the table with a sharp click. “And how do you know all of this?” Madame Gao asked, an edge of incredulity in her tone.

“I know everything. You’ve trusted Alexandra for too long. You know she doesn’t care about returning to K’un-Lun—maybe she did, once, long ago, but not anymore. You refuse to confront her about it because acknowledging it, accepting it, would cost you what you perceive as your only hope. Alexandra cares only for extending her own life. Her vision, her Black Sky, is for her benefit and hers alone. She betrays the Hand’s mission. She betrays you. If you continue to follow her, it will doom you to failure and death. I offer you an alternative.”

“And what would you ask for, in return for this alternative?” Madame Gao’s voice was steady, but Agatha noticed a slight tremble in her hand.

“Tech and drones are one thing, but I’m looking to diversify. There are things I can’t do. Places I can’t go. Places that a small army of undying ninja could. Help me, bring the other Fingers on board where you can, and I’ll get you all back home to K’un-Lun before the year is out.”