He was in a cozy dining room, lit by dozens of candle lights. There wasn’t a wall between the dining area and the kitchen, so Stephen was able to sneak glances at Wanda as she cooked dinner. Her back was to him, as she swayed to the music that she was humming. Stephen felt completely and utterly entranced by the beauty in front of him. As quietly as possible, he got out of his seat and walked over to an oblivious Wanda. Stephen gently wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and a content smile graced both of their lips.
She leaned back, settling her head in the crook of his neck. They stayed in that position for a long while, slowly rocking from side to side. The scent of food reached their noses and Wanda nuzzled deeper into Stephen’s embrace, both of them soaking up each other's warmth.
“Is there anything that I can help with?”, he asked softly?
Wanda scrunched up her nose and Stephen smirked and added, “How about something that doesn’t involve me sitting down and doing nothing while you cook the most delicious food that I’ve ever and ever will taste”.
“Stephen, you’re not doing nothing, you’re preventing me from getting distracted”.
“So I’m a distraction to you”.
Wanda laughed, “exactly”.
He breathed in her scent, roses with a mix between peaches and apples. He smiled into her hair, “then I’ll be one of those good kinds of distractions”.
She hummed and closed her eyes.
╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
A few hours later, they were both in bed, one asleep, and the other half awake. Stephen smiled as he watched Wanda sleep. Her face looked so relaxed that his heart soared, looping around and around, grateful that she was part of his world and he was part of hers.
“Beautiful”, he muttered, ghosting his thumb over her lips. Wanda let out a soft breath before going back to sleep.
Even in the dark, Stephen could see her beautiful auburn hair. He leaned forward, rested his head just above hers, and brushed a kiss on her forehead. It was there and then that Stephen decided that nothing could be more perfect. He could want nothing more.
Nothing…at…all….
His eyes began to droop. Wanda’s steady and slow breath lulling him to slumber.
Crack
Stephen’s eyes snapped open as he jumped. He groaned and blinked sleepy. Rolling over to wrap his arms around Wanda, Stephen reached out to the other side of the bed.
Wanda’s side of the bed was empty.
That woke him up good. He shot out of bed, the covers falling to the floor with a soft thump.
“Wanda?” he whispered.
With a pull of the string, the lamp on the nightstand lit up, revealing that Stephen was the only one in their bedroom. Panic started to bloom in his chest. Where could she be? Was she hurt? No. Calm down Stephen, she’s probably downstairs, getting a late night snack or something. Yeah, and that’s most likely the reason for the sound. She must have accidentally dropped a cup of something.
With the floorboards creaking with each step he took, Stephen relied heavily on the moonlight to see as he swiftly went down the stairs and into the living room, heading for the kitchen. However the kitchen was empty as well. Maybe she was using the bathroom instead.
Crack
Stephen stopped dead in his tracks.
Crack
Where was that coming from?
Crack
Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The kitchen window, which usually showed Wanda’s backyard garden, was starting to break. Everything through the window was pitch black, but the moon illuminated the cracks. Silver splinters growing and spreading ominously, like spider webs. Magic began gathering at his fingertips but the window shattered before Stephen could create a spell. Glass flew everywhere as he covered his face with his arms and was harshly blown back.
Stephen gasped awake, greedily taking in as much oxygen as possible, like he’d just been underwater for a very, very long time. It took him embarrassingly long for Stephen to suddenly realize that he was no longer in the kitchen. Instead, he was in a dark room, with a good chunk of it replaced with three broken windows, framed by steel, surrounding half of the room. Water dripped from the spikes of broken glass still clinging onto the steel frames, a somewhat familiar sight of unknown origin to Stephen.
Through the windows was a seemingly endless, vast room of white emptiness. Looking down, he noticed his arms were raised and his body was in a stance like he was in mid battle. His body ached as if he’d been fighting for control. But control over what?
He absentmindedly patted his shoulders and frowned at his actions, why was he doing that?
Oh… Something was missing. His cloak. This whole time, he hadn’t noticed the absence of his faithful relic, but now that he’d thought about it, the cloak hadn’t been with him the whole day, nor was it with him yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before-. Well, Stephen couldn’t exactly remember the day before that, as if the memory was muddled.
He took a step towards the windows, hoping to find a way out of the room. As he got closer, Stephen realized, with barely hidden horror, that the three windows were the windows of a car, the same car that he’d been in on that day. The day that everything changed.
Time around him was slowed down and Stephen felt like he was back in the car during that accident all over again. But now was not the time to panic because the sound of soft padded footsteps reached his ears. It came from outside, drawing him closer until he was standing eye level to the window. The sound came from a bald man in black clothing, looking like he was in his 70’s, standing in front of where Stephen was being trapped.
“Hello?” Stephen called out, his voice was raspy and barely above a whisper, “Who are you?”
“Stephen Strange”, the man said, he was talking very quickly, rushing to tell him everything before something happened. “Your mind is currently being held hostage by the Scarlet Witch, an alternate version of the one that you know”.
It all came back to him, crashing into his mind. He’d been in the house, making some coffee while Wanda had been in the backyard, tending to the apple trees. He remembered seeing Wanda, that must have been the alternate version, outside the house, in a much darker version of the Scarlet Witch outfit, the tips of her fingers covered in what looked like black ink. They’d made eye contact and everything had gone red after that.
“Wanda”
Suddenly, something from behind pulled him back into the dark. The sickening sound of a crack echoed through his mind as red mist began pouring into the room from the windows. The mist surrounded him, gentle yet suffocating.
A blink and Stephen was back in the kitchen.
“Stephen?” Wanda’s gentle voice called out. The kitchen light flicked on. Wanda was standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing her pajamas. Everything was normal - was it normal? - as if nothing had just happened.
Wanda looked at the occasional gold sparks flying from his fingers, due to the amount of magic that he’d gathered into his hands.
“What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly, reaching out and smoothing the furrow in his brow.
“I-” his words got stuck in his throat and wouldn’t come out.
She looked just like her, Wanda, with her nearly red hair and beautiful green eyes. But this wasn’t his Wanda was it? This was just an illusion made by the other Scarlet Witch to keep him trapped in his own mind.
“Stephen?” not-Wanda asked again, “Is everything alright? What happened, are you oka-”
Stephen hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go. Not-Wanda hugged him back, but it was just an illusion. This wasn’t really happening. Somewhere out there, in the real world, his Wanda was most likely trying to find him and get him back.
Don’t worry Stephen Strange
Stephen felt a shiver run up his spine. This was Wanda’s voice, a cold, threatening, almost foreign, version of it, filled with so much pain and sorrow that Stephen wanted to comfort her, even if she was keeping him hostage.
I’ll return you back to your Wanda after you help me get what I want