scarlet shoes

Vision waits until eight thirty the next morning before charging into Agnes’s office.

Peter is already at his desk, tapping away on a laptop that illuminates the dark circles under his eyes. “Good morning, Mr. Shade,” he says cheerfully when Vision bursts in. “Can I help-.”

Vision is already striding past Peter’s desk to the closed door of Agnes’s office, his anger propelling him forward.

“Wait!” Peter calls from behind him. “Wait, you can’t go in there, she’s-.”

But Vision has already flung open the door to Agnes’s office and stalked in, fury pouring off of his body in waves.

Agnes is sitting behind her desk, a large binder open in front of her. Her eyes flick up to him as the door flies open, her dark hair scraped away from her face.

“You notice the door was closed,” she says dryly.

He shuts the door behind him with a slam.

“Something on your mind?” she’s refusing to be cowed by him and it only makes him angrier.

“Yeah,” he says, stalking over to the chair opposite her desk.

She places her pen on the desk and looks up at him with such an exaggerated look of patience that he has to physically resist the urge to throw something at her face.

The impulse surprises him, he hasn’t felt this violent since Darcy Lewis tricked him into seeing Swan Lake.

“Wanda Maximoff?” he grits out.

Agnes sighs. “What about her?”

“Have you noticed anything different about her recently?” he asks.

“Besides the fact that she desperately wants to sleep with you?” Agnes asks.

“She is- what?” Vision feels his body stutter to a stop.

Agnes rolls her eyes. “Come on, Vision, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She hasn’t exactly been subtle about it.”

“I don’t-I just-,” Vision feels his anger draining away rapidly. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what were you talking about?” Agnes asks.

Vision takes a very deep breath, pushing an image of him and Wanda tangled together to the very recesses of his brain. “Have you seen how thin she’s gotten?” he asks, attempting to get back on track.

Agnes shrugs. “I might have,” she admits nonchalantly.

Red begins to smudge his vision as he stands in front of her desk, gripping the chair tightly with his fists. “And can you explain,” he says in a very slow, careful tone. “Why Wanda believes I am the reason she needs to diet?”

Agnes gives a long slow sigh and closes her binder with a snap. “Vision,” she says. “There are many things about this company that you will never understand.”

Vision feels his jaw twitch.

“One of those things,” Agnes continues. “Is the motivational tactics of my dancers. Wanda Maximoff is distracted. She thinks she’s ready for a promotion, she thinks she’s ready for larger roles, but the truth of the matter is: she isn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you tell her to starve herself!” Vision cries.

Agnes fixes him with a look. “She was headed towards self-destruction,” she tells him bluntly. “I saved her.”

“You might have killed her,” Vision says lowly.

Something flashes across Agnes’s face. “Oh,” she says in a very different voice. “Oh, now I understand.”

“What?” Vision asks.

“You’re in love with her,” Agnes says.

Vision laughs. “That’s ridiculous,” he tells her.

She tilts her head, studying him closely. “Is it?” she asks.

“Yes, it is,” Vision says. “I barely know her. And stop trying to change the subject, we aren’t talking about me.”

Agnes stands. “Wanda could be a great dancer,” she tells Vision as she walks to the office door. “I will do what I can to make great dancers. Even if that means forcing them to build their wings in the sky, I will do what I have to do.”

“That’s disgusting,” Vision snaps.

Agnes smiles a very tired smile. “That’s ballet,” she says.

Vision squares his shoulders. “Wanda Maximoff is going to be Juliet,” he tells her. “And she’s going to do it even if she gains five hundred pounds.”

Agnes opens her office door. “It’s your circus,” she says.

Vision stalks to the door, fury still radiating from him. “You disgust me,” he growls.

She smiles at him, not even flinching at the pure hatred in his voice. “I can live with that,” she says.

He leaves the office, feeling overwhelming nausea, storming past Peter’s desk without acknowledgement.

He makes it outside before he sinks against the wall of the theater, placing his head between his knees and breathing in and out, ignoring the filthy ground.

In and out.

In and out.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, bathing in Agnes’s revolting words, wondering how large the lawyer fee would be if he broke his contract and left.

The cold breeze kisses his cheeks lightly, cooling his fury as he breathes and watches the fountain water dance in the distance.

A shadow falls across his lap and he looks up to see Darcy standing in front of him, her eyes concerned, her hands clenched in the pockets of her dark sweatshirt.

She gives him a half smile. “Jimmy said he saw you sprint outside.”

“I thought I was going to vomit,” Vision tells her wryly.

She takes a subtle step back. “And now?”

Vision drops his legs to the cold ground, leaning back against the building. “Right as rain.”

Darcy sits next to him, pulling the sides of her sweatshirt over her knees. “I don’t believe you,” she says.

Vision’s mouth twists up and he snorts bitterly. “Well, I haven’t given you much incentive to trust me, have I?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Darcy says.

“Isn’t it?” Vision rolls his head back onto the building. “You’ve been ignoring me for the past four days.”

“Because I’m pissed at you, not because I don’t trust you,” she tells him fiercely. “What you did was shitty and I think I have the right to be angry.”

“Then why the hell did you set me up with Wanda?” Vision asks. “If you’re so mad at me, why do something like that? I assume you meant it as a goodwill gesture.”

“Yeah, because she’s done nothing wrong,” Darcy counters. “And she doesn’t deserve to suffer because you were an ass.”

“Well, turns out she didn’t have such a great time,” Vision mutters, drawing his knees back to his chest. “So, your plan backfired.”

Darcy presses her palms against her eyes. “What did you do?”  

“Nothing!” Vision cries. “I didn’t do anything! This isn’t my fault!”

Darcy drops her hands and glares at him.

“I swear, Darc, for once I had nothing to do with it. She-,” Vision swallows against a new wave of nausea. “She was under the impression I told Agnes she needed to lose weight if I was going to cast her as Juliet.”

Darcy’s eyes are huge. “Is that why she fainted?” she asks.

Vision gives a terse nod. “I took her out to lunch and maybe yelled at her about not eating anything.”

Darcy punches his arm.

“Ow!” Vision yelps. “Darc, what the hell-?”

“You yelled at her?”

“Not intentionally!” Vision says. She punches him again. “Ow, stop it!” he grabs her fist and holds it. “Look, I had no idea! I’m still trying to put the pieces together.”

Darcy wrenches her hand from his and tucks it into her sweatshirt pocket. “Does Agnes know you know?”

“I might have stormed into her office this morning,” Vision says. “I’ve never seen red before, Darc, it was a new experience.”

Darcy snorts. “Good for you.”

Vision feels a reluctant smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t think that means you’re off the hook,” she jabs her index finger at his nose. “I’m still pissed at what you did.”

“I know,” Vision says, looking down at his lap.

“I know you did it for some stupid, noble reason, but all it did was make me think you don’t believe I’m capable of handling my own issues,” she says.

“I know,” Vision’s voice cracks.

“I’m a grown woman,” Darcy informs him. “And I don’t appreciate- are you crying?”

“No,” Vision says, though when he touches his face, he realizes its wet. “No,” he says.

Darcy lets out an enormous sigh and scoots closer to him, dropping her head to his shoulder. “I’m not going to apologize for being angry,” she mutters.

“I’m not upset at you,” Vision sighs. “It’s been a bad morning.”

She makes a small noise of sympathy.

Vision wipes his face on his sleeve, the cold wind causing his damp cheeks to cool significantly quickly, leaving the skin refreshed. “I’m so sorry.”

She burrows deeper into his shoulder. “I know.”

“No,” Vision sits up, dislodging her head from his neck. “Darc, I am so, so sorry. What I did was selfish and stupid and you’re correct, it put you in danger of running into him without warning and that isn’t fair to you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.

“Because,” Vision swallows. “Because then I would have had to acknowledge my part in all of it, and I wasn’t ready to do that.”

Darcy is shaking her head. “What he did was no more your fault than it was mine,” she says.

“Yeah,” Vision says. “But I could have dislocated his jaw or something.”

“I think the two black eyes Tony gave him was enough,” Darcy says.

“But we didn’t keep him away from you,” Vision says, the guilt twisting his insides until he thinks they might be bleeding.

“No,” Darcy acknowledges. “But it’s not your job, V. He makes his own decisions and I make mine,” she bumps his shoulder gently. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me get my own punch in?”

Vision wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “Deal.”

***

The music shrieks out of the speakers, flutes and violins chasing each other in a light, airy melody.

Wanda feels a single drop of sweat rolling down her spine as she positions herself to explode onto the floor with tiny runs, her feet barely touching the ground, her hands fluttering above her head gracefully.

Every movement is created to emulate falling snow; from the running, to the swooping arms, to the constant turning, every dancer must look like a snowflake lazily floating to earth.

The Waltz of the Snowflakes had always been Wanda’s favorite part of Nutcracker. The dancers swirl around the stage, their bodies in perfect synchronization while beautiful flakes of snow fall from the rafters.

It’s magical to watch but at this moment, rather horrifying to live.

“Again,” Agnes is running the first Nutcracker rehearsals of the year and she’s unforgiving.

They’ve been dancing for almost an hour and they haven’t even made it past a minute in the music. There are sixteen snowflakes and only four have danced.

The women reset, Natasha flashing Wanda a pained smile as she takes her place across the studio.

The music begins again and Wanda forces her body to float above the floor, her feet swishing in time with the music.

She weaves in a pattern, watching Natasha across the studio floor as they each step up to pointe, fluttering their fingers gracefully.

The music stops.

“Again,” Agnes demands.

They all make their way back to the top of the piece, their feet moving slowly.

The music begins anew and Wanda grits her teeth.

This time, they make it to the first set of sauté arabesque jumps, a series of jumps where each dancer must leap with her left leg in arabesque, landing on the supporting right leg gracefully.

“Synchronized, ladies!” Agnes bellows over the flutes. “What the- stop!” she pauses the music and they all halt, breathing heavily. “What are you doing?” she asks them.

It’s clearly a rhetorical question and they all wisely hold their tongues.

“Where are your eyelines? Your feet? This is the sloppiest I’ve ever seen! We’ll stay in this studio until you can understand what it means to work in a corps. I know some of you have begun to feel too big for your britches,” she makes direct eye contact with Wanda, who feels her face flush. “But surely you haven’t forgotten how to dance. Again.”

Wanda wills herself not to wilt in front of Agnes as she takes her opening position again, waiting for the musical cue to run out on stage.

“Feet! Stretch your FEET,” Agnes yells. “My god, are you elephants? Why are you so heavy footed?”

Wanda grits her teeth and jumps in perfect synchronization with Natasha, who stands in front of her, blessedly following her offstage in a grand jete, her legs in a perfect split in the air.

Agnes lets the music continue to play as the next group of girls, finally able to dance, explodes onto the studio floor.

Wanda puffs air as she waits for her next musical cue. Across the studio, she sees herself and Natasha reflected in the long mirrors. Natasha perfectly poised with a pale green leotard; her hair twisted out of her face elegantly. In contract, Wanda sees herself, pale and washed out, in a black leotard that makes her skin look sallow and sickly.

Ever since yesterday, the mirror has been spitefully candid. She doesn’t see a girl on her way to success with just a few more pounds to lose, she sees a skeleton with a bitter smile and hollowed eyes.

It’s an uncomfortable realization.

It was enough to cause her to break down that morning and eat a full bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar and banana slices but now it sloshes in her stomach painfully.

She hears the beginning of the music and follows Natasha back out, making a diagonal line and mirroring the four women already dancing.

“If you do not lift those back legs!” Agnes yells. “I will cut them off!”

Wanda thankfully runs off stage before Agnes can follow through with her threat, wishing she could sit down, but knowing it would be a suicidal act.

The music stops and Agnes stares at them all with a frown. “You have a long way to go, ladies,” she says. “A long way to go. But as Mr. Shade must run his own rehearsal, we will have to stop for today.”

Wanda snaps her head to the doorway of the studio, seeing Vision leaning against the frame, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

How long had he been there?

He steps into the studio, and Wanda wonders if she’s imagining the dark circles under his eyes or the way he skirts around Agnes gingerly, as though she’s a wild animal he’s unsure will attack.

Wanda knows she doesn’t imagine the eyebrow Agnes raises in Vision’s direction, nor does Wanda imagine the amusement that plays across Agnes’s features.

“Ms. Romanov,” Agnes says over the chatter of the studio.

Natasha’s head pops up. “Yes?” she asks.

“Please come to my office after your rehearsal with Mr. Shade,” Agnes says and sweeps out of the room, her long purple cardigan swishing after her.

Natasha turns panic filled eyes at Wanda. “What did I do?” she hisses.

Wanda shrugs, her focus on Vision as he ties on his dance sneakers. His shoulders are more hunched than she’s ever seen, as though he’s trying to make his body as small as possible.

She can still hear his horrified voice from yesterday, the words replaying over and over in her mind.

Why are you starving yourself?

Rehearsal is uneventful, Vision rehearses each woman as Juliet, allowing the others to simply mark the steps in the back. It is a relaxed rehearsal, even if the choreographer is exactly the opposite.

Vision’s shoulders stay near his ears the whole time, only speaking when directing a correction. Otherwise, he simply observes, his eyes flicking across the dancers shrewdly.

He avoids Wanda’s eyes at all costs, when he gives her a correction, he directs his words to her shoulder or arm or the wall behind her.

It’s clear she disgusts him, and it’s a blow she knows she deserves.

I should have asked him like an adult if he told Agnes I should diet, she thinks as she observes Vision correcting Mary. I shouldn’t have been such a child about the whole thing.

She stays miserably silent as the rehearsal comes to an end and Vision runs, literally runs, out of the room before they can all finish thanking him for the day.

“What’s got his goat?” Steve wonders aloud as he guzzles water greedily. 

“What’s Agnes going to say to me?” Natasha flutters at Wanda’s shoulder. “Oh god, is she going to fire me?”

“She’s not going to fire you, don’t be ridiculous,” Wanda says, her mind still half caught on Vision’s untimely exit.

“Then what does she want?” Natasha grinds out, shoving her feet into her sweatpants violently.

“I don’t know, Nat,” Wanda snaps. “But the longer you wait, the worse it will get so, shoo!” she pushes Natasha towards the door.

Natasha leaves reluctantly and Wanda realizes she is alone in the studio, everyone else has cleared out to take full advantage of their dinner break before the show that night.

She considers dancing or maybe going to Pilates, but for the first time in a long time, Wanda has the urge to sit outside next to the fountain and read a book.

She gets a small cup of soup from the Café and parks herself next to the fountain, removing one of her historically bad romance novels from her dance bag and getting lost in the ridiculous plot, sipping at her soup and shivering against the cold October sky.

As the hour break comes to a close, she packs her bag gently and rises from her seat, feeling surprisingly tranquil and dreamy as she crosses the plaza to the theater, yanking open the stage door with a serene expression.

The feeling vanishes in an instant as Darcy grabs her arm the second she arrives in the hallway to the dressing rooms. “Wanda!”

Wanda jumps violently, her heart spiking. “Shit, Darc, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” Darcy doesn’t look sorry at all. “You need to see something.” She begins to pull Wanda towards the wings, her arms surprisingly strong as she yanks Wanda down the hall.

“I can walk, Darc,” Wanda says. “And what do you want me to see?”

They’ve arrived in front of the casting board, the cork lit by the familiar ominous blue light, though the work lights are on backstage, so the dark corners are lit with fluorescents as Jimmy’s crews sets up for the performance.

Wanda takes all of this in as Darcy pushes her gently towards the casting board where a new piece of paper sits. It’s the schedule for the next two weeks and in every slot for Romeo and Juliet rehearsals it says:

Romeo and Juliet

Rogers, S

Maximoff, W

Wanda stares at it.

And does a double take.

And then another.

She rubs her eyes with her fists, sure this is a weird trick of the light, but her name stays firmly on the call sheet. The only woman called for Romeo and Juliet.

Darcy is grinning at her, the blue light reflecting off her teeth.

“Me?” Wanda manages to get out, her eyes huge.

Darcy squeals and throws her arms around Wanda’s shoulders. “You!” she says. “You did it, Wanda!”

“But,” Wanda turns back to the paper, her mouth gaping. “Did he just give it to me because he feels bad?”

Darcy snorts next to her. “Of course not,” she says. “He knows better than to pity cast anyone.”

Wanda can’t stop staring at the board, her heart beating out of her chest. “I can’t believe it,” she says wonderingly. “I’m going to be Juliet.”

Darcy squeals again. “You’re going to be Juliet!” she agrees.

Wanda turns to her with an enormous grin. “Wow,” she says. “I-pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming!”

Darcy enthusiastically pinches Wanda’s arm and she feels a sharp pain. “Ow!” Wanda laughs, grabbing Darcy’s upper arms and jumping up and down, giggling, her elation forcing her higher and higher into the sky.

“I’m so proud of you!” Darcy says as she jumps with Wanda.

“Me too!” Wanda lands her last hop and twirls in a circle, her arms outstretched. “Wow,” she twists back to face Darcy and reality clunks back in. “Oh god, what time is it?”

“Nearly six thirty,” Darcy checks her watch.

“Shit, I have to get changed,” Wanda says and then pauses. “Also, don’t mistake all this gleeful excitement, I’m still expecting to hear exactly why you thought it was a good idea to set me up with Vision yesterday.”

“What’s that?” Darcy begins to walk backward quickly. “Going through a tunnel, can't hear you, sorry!” she flashes Wanda one last grin before vanishing into Jimmy’s office.

Shaking her head, Wanda takes one last look at her name on the call sheet before heading to the dressing rooms, a buoyant feeling in her chest, so excited to share her news.

But as she gets closer to the dressing rooms, she hears a wailing coming from inside, a sound of screeching that isn’t normally heard on the dressing room floor unless something awful has happened.

She can feel a twinge of dread slice down her spine as she hurriedly opens the dressing room door to see Monica and Pepper on either side of Natasha, who is sobbing, her arms wrapped around both their necks, her face blotchy and red.

“Oh my god,” Wanda drops her bag to the ground. “What happened? Are you okay?” Panic is racing through her veins. “Did someone get hurt?”

Natasha hiccups and looks up at Wanda with a brilliant smile. “Wanda!” she cries. “You’ll never believe it!” she hiccups again. “I got promoted!”