a sad witch and a broken dame (A Wanda Maximoff Fanfic)

After hours of accompanying Wanda to upstate New York, only to find an abandoned warehouse where the Avengers compound was supposed to be located, you had finally managed to convince her to stay with you until Dr. Paltrow replies or gets back from her trip.

You knew you couldn't just leave the brunette on her own, especially when you saw how her eyes filled with tears bursting to come out as she stared blankly ahead at the vacant building. She felt so helpless and scared. Lost.

Wanda didn't need to be. You were there for her. You promised to hold on a little longer for her, shoving your own demons back to their hiding place.

You stepped closer to Wanda and murmured behind her. "It wouldn't stay empty for long, you know... Months from now, Dr. Paltrow will be able to get you back to wherever you came from... For the meantime, let me help you..."

"I don't want to be a burden," she muttered back so silently, you almost didn't hear it.

The moment Wanda confessed that to you made your heart swell and ache for her. She really was kind on the inside.

"Believe it or not, I don't regard you as a burden," you answered truthfully, avoiding her probing gaze as she finally turned around to face you.

You never got the chance to reveal to the woman what you were doing on that night when you first met her or what that suicide note she saw pinned to the refrigerator meant. You knew she had been dying to ask about it because she had been staring at you for a while, as if trying to read you.

When you arrived back at your apartment, you told Wanda she could watch the television and do other stuff whenever she felt bored. Mi casa es su casa.

Ever since then, she would always watch the news on said appliance, waiting for something to come up for days. Perhaps something similar to her case, where people had jumped from universe to universe.

You also offered the recently stocked refrigerator and pantry if ever she might want to cook her own meals since she still didn't trust you that much.

The wall she built around herself was still as tall and as sturdy as it was before, so you couldn't really blame her when you attempted to talk to her one time and she resorted to head back into the bedroom, locking the door.

The nights were longer and Wanda couldn't seem to sleep without crying first. On the third night, you had had enough, and creeped towards the bedroom door, hesitantly knocking.

"Wanda, are you okay?" you softly asked. You only heard some sniffle inside and then silence. You could tell she was still crying even when it was muffled by the pillows. So you slipped yourself down to a sit on the floor with your back leaning against the wooden door.

"I have read this joke somewhere," you began talking, staring at the ceiling. "There was a customer visiting the post office one day, and queried about how much would it cost to ship a package. The man who worked at the post office said 'Two-day shipping will cost ten bucks to get it there by Friday.' .. Well, the customer wanted to save a few bucks so he asked, 'The package doesn't have to get there until Saturday. Is there any way to make that happen?' The worker only nodded and replied, 'Sure. You can bring it back tomorrow.'"

You softly chuckled at your own joke, imagining Wanda laughing on the other side. But you were only met with silence so you decided to go on.

"I have another one...," you continued, after inhaling a couple of breaths. "There was an event famous for giving out awards in bizarre categories... The hosts enthusiastically announced, 'The next prize will go to the laziest person in the audience. If you think you qualify, raise your hand.' Everyone raised their hands except one man who seemed to have no interest to said event. The hosts then said to the man, 'Congratulations! You are the winner! Here is your prize!' Still showing no emotion, the man only replied, 'Would you mind coming over here and put it in my pocket?'"