Assigned Wife
The Hex was down and Wanda Maximoff had left, yet S.W.O.R.D. stayed behind for a few extra hours. Agents stayed behind interviewing residents on the events and documenting the results of collective mind control.
They reconnected people with their loved ones, helped them pick out familiar faces out of crowds, all before they could send anyone home. Children were let out of rooms, workers out of offices, and people who were stuck in the streets were allowed to walk freely. All of the missing persons were found and identified, but there was still one person left.
A woman still wearing the pristine clothes of a sitcom wife. A woman who's smile did not meet her eyes.
No facial recognition recognized her. No form of identification identified who she was. No database had any data on her. No other pictures of her existed other than the ones taken from the Hex. No one in Westview had ever seen her before. It was as if she had never existed up until this point.
"Hi!" She waved her fingers with too much prep. Her smile was too wide and pearly. Most prominently her eyes seemed to beg, begging for something the smile hid.
She had introduced herself as Agnes to the S.W.O.R.D. agents when they tried to interview her. That's all she said, her name was Agnes, and that's all they had on file.
However, Monica knew a little bit more than that. She knew that she was a witch, like Wanda, and Monica did not feel like meddling with witches.
It wasn't government code to document someone as a witch. Even if she did it would lead to a lot more paper work and questioning, things Monica did not have the time to be doing.
"Look, can you tell us anything else?" Monica practically begged her in the temporary interrogation room they were set up in, "anything, where you're from, your real name, any family or friends who could come collect you? Who are you?"
Agnes simply smiled painfully, "I told you gal, I'm Agnes."
Monica rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. She was frustrated, everyone was. They all just wanted to go home and return to their peaceful lives the had before this mess. They would have to contact Wanda and get her to come back. Monica knew the chances of that happening were slim, even if they found Wanda it would be unlikely she would want to return to Westview. It would be very unlikely she would want to release the spell on Agnes.
The most frustrating part of the Agnes situation to Monica was that she had no idea what to do with her. There was no place to put, she didn't live in the town, no one knew her, there was no documentation to provide a place where she could stay. They could take her in but then Monica would have to confess that she knew the woman to be witch, complicating the situation even further. She wished she could pretend that the woman lived in the town and stick her on somebody who could handle her.
"Gosh, would you look at the time," Agnes said, looking at a blank space on the wall, "I should really get going, my husband Ralph-"
"Wait," Monica interrupted, "your husband Ralph?"
"Yes darling, my husband Ralph, god knows he can't do anything by himself."
"I'll be right back."
Monica excused herself from the room and went to where the town center was.
It was still a mess. There were still a few groups of people interviewed, some trying to call loved ones who lived outside of the town, parents beginning to walk their children home, and agents still assisting those who needed it.
"Bohner!" She shouted at the general direction of people, hoping he was there.
"Yeah?" A man with a slurred voice called back.
There he was.
She made a gesture with her fingers, calling him over.
"You cool with having a wife until we can properly I.D. her?"
"Uh," he blinked a few times, "I think that's illegal."
Monica sighed, "Listen, I don't want to deal with her, this lady is creepy, she's still got the spell on her and it's just-"
"No, I mean I think keeping someone in someone else's house is illegal."
"Yes, trespassing, but it's just until we can figure out who she is and how to get the spell off of her," if they even wanted it off of her, "and it wouldn't technically be trespassing if she's your wife and she lives there under Hex rules."
"Okay," he replied, shrugging, "She cute?"
"She's the witch that lived with you."
"She's under the witchy spell thing? Right?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Monica brought him back to the room where Agnes sat ankles crossed looking around with that creepy smile on her face. She got up once she saw that they had joined her.
"Oh Ralph, well that's a nice look on you," she practically growled looking over his dress of a blue band tank top, a flannel tied around his waist, dirty jeans, and a pair of crocs.
"Thanks," he replied.
Monica gave them a questioning thumbs up. Ralph nodded and put his around Agnes' shoulders.
"Come on honey, let's go home!" He said while leading her out of the room.
She laughed to loudly and slipped her arm around his waist with her hand sliding too low.
-
"Aight so this is the place."
Ralph opened the door and flicked on the lights to reveal a living room that was dull yet chaotic. There were clothes strewn all about the place, including on the brown leather couch. Grey walls he had mostly covered up with paintings and tapestries, and a large tv with a stack of books for a stand. An empty pizza box sat on the coffee table as well as five half drunk energy drinks sitting on the side table that had a beaded lamp from the 70s. There was also the overwhelming smell of body odor and an herb that Agnes did not recognize.
"Oh Ralph, it's just fantastic what you've done with the place!" She exclaimed as she did her exaggerated sitcom walk around the room, "it might need to be a bit cleaned up."
She ran her finger along the coffee table's edge, collecting dust. She then pouted at him making him laugh.
"Sure, I guess, wasn't expecting any girls over."
She laughed and slapped his shoulder.
He awkwardly rubbed his hands together. They just kind of stood there, not knowing where to go, or what to do.
"Why don't you, uh, just sit down," he gestured over to the clothing covered couch. She smiled and threw herself onto it, then tossed the shirt off of the seat next to her.
"Why don't you sit, Ralph darling?" She winked.
"I'm good."
He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the kitchen.
"It's about five, you want anything?"
She hummed a response for him to clarify.
"Pizza roles good?"
"Sure!"
Agnes began to judge everything in the room while he was in the kitchen. She gagged at the drab coloured walls and furniture. She somehow managed to not throw up at the sight of Ralph's hideous paintings. She had trouble sitting still while looking at the mess of all the filthy laundry all over the place.
The loud hum of the microwave brought back her aggressive smile. Ralph entered to room again.
"Want to watch anything? I got Netflix."
Before she could reply he grabbed the remote and sat beside her.
He turned something on but she focused on the room around her, the place where she did not want to be. Her mind wandered to the basement she had in the house. Everything she currently owned was kept in that basement, her books full of spells, her animals, her runes, stones, feathers, bones, crystals, enchanted jewelry, everything she had was down there, everything that made Agnes, Agatha. She was so close to it all, it was torture. Her mind focused on what she had and what she didn't have; but her body faced Ralph and focused on him.
Agnes began to lean forward, sliding her finger sensually along his arm. He tensed, skin on edge, he swallowed as her finger slid up to his shoulder. She stared at his face, where his silver hair hung over, almost shielding his eyes from her. His tank top seemed to cling to his chest where his heart pounded from nerves.
The microwave pinged.
"Alright!" He slapped his knee and got up.
Agnes smiled as he walked away and returned with a plate of their dinner.
"Careful, they're hot," he told her, placing the plate on the table and exchanging it for the empty pizza box which he took back to the kitchen.
When he returned she was still sitting there, ankles crossed fiddling with her nails, waiting to be told what to do.
"You wanna tour while we wait for them to cool?"
She threw her head back with a laugh, "Ralph, you're so funny! We're married, I don't need a tour of my own house."
"Yeah, but that was like during the whole-you know what you're right. Well you know, bathroom's down that way." He gestured vaguely to his left direction. "Bedroom are upstairs."
"Our bedroom," she corrected.
"Our?"
His eyes widened in realization.
Agnes was a character in a sitcom, a married character who would share a bed with her husband. Ralph was that husband, the character who would sleep in the same bed as Agnes.
He didn't know her, and she was playing a character. Behind her sitcom smile her eyes still begged for release; she didn't want to share a bed with him and he vice versa.
"We share a bedroom?" He asked, dumbstruck.
She smiled at him, "Of course we do silly. We're married."
Agnes licked her lips and got up and over to him, "Unless," she whispered, "you don't want to use the bedroom."
She leaned in to kiss his neck.
He jumped back, "No, no bedroom's fine, but let's just eat then go to sleep. Okay?"
"Okay, handsome." She winked.
So they sat and ate together, watching something on the tv that neither of them focused on. When they went to bed he gave her a spare toothbrush and comb, as well as on of his very few clean t-shirts for her to sleep in. Then together they slept side-by-side with a rolled up blanket in between, trying not to be completely uncomfortable.
Ralph tried to remind himself that he was sleeping next to the crazy witch that had controlled, but it was difficult to do when she was so in character.