House of W

Re-Creation

Part II

Her house was nothing to write home about. As though Mortimer had a home to write back to concerning his former obsession's domicile. Wanda closed the door behind them and continued in to the modest living room.

She half-shrugged. "Here it is. I'm afraid the couch is the best I can offer you as a bed."

Toad couldn't think of anything to say. He'd never imagined himself in his current situation. The barely-welcomed guest of a person barely fitting Wanda Maximoff's description, in a room that could barely be called livable. Aside from the couch, the room offered one unsteady-looking chair and a coffee table. No pictures, no books, not even a rug.

"Thanks."

"I don't really have any food, but you're welcomed to whatever you want here."

She always did have her manners at her command, Mort noted. When all else failed, she could still be polite - even to a raging enemy. That's what made her so graceful. One of the things, anyway. Her smooth speech, even when angry. At least she still seemed to have that. At the moment, however, she seemed to be at an awkward loss for words. It was an unprecedented situation.

"Thanks," he said again. Wanda looked away and excused herself to her room, down the hallway.

Toad looked around again and wondered what was next. Maybe she really wasn't so bad off. He didn't need to be here. And even if she was in some kind of trouble, why was it any of his concern? Why should he stop her from wrecking what was left of her salvaged life? He owed nothing.

Undecided as to whether he should slip away now or stay, he moved to the window and looked out. They were on the first story, so he had a view of the lawn, which consisted of dirt and weeds, the street, and the graffiti on the wall across the street. Standing close to the window, he felt the chill seep in from outside. The room he was in had seemed rather cold, but then, he was usually cold.

He tried to step toward the door, but he didn't move. He decided to stay for the time being. In truth, he really didn't have a place to stay, so this was as good as anything. And he could leave any time.

- - -

Toad slept on the sofa that night. Wanda had offered him a blanket, and he propped one of the cushions up as a pillow. It was early when he woke, he judged by the dim morning sunlight. Wanda didn't appear to be up yet, so he folded the blanket and went out on the little concrete slab that served as a back porch.

From there, he could see the neighbor's porch to his right. A blond little girl was standing there, while her mother brushed her hair.

"Hold still, please. We're going to be late if I have to do this again," the mother said, pulling her daughter's hair into a sloppy ponytail.

Mort looked away. For the thirtieth time since yesterday afternoon, he asked himself why he was there. In this house, in this city. Even in this country.

He'd come to see the Scarlet Witch. To substantiate what he'd heard and to see for himself what had become of her. He'd done a lot of research on her. He'd been to Genosha and stolen information there. Apparently, he'd been seriously out of the loop. Wanda's kids were products of her mind and a secondary mutation that allowed her to warp reality.

Word of the Avengers' destruction had reached Mort, and that's when he first began looking into her life since he'd last seen her. He thought she might have been killed, but it turned out she'd simply disappeared. No memorial was made in her honor, so she hadn't died in the attack. But there was no word of her at all.

Of course, he'd found out she was on Genosha with dear old dad and Xavier. From there he'd learned that she'd lost her connection to reality, preferring her own version, and that her games with reality had been the destruction behind the Avengers.

He had a hard time believing that Wanda was capable of destroying her team, either by power or personality. Or that she had lost her mind. She'd seemed sane enough last time he'd seen her. But it was true. His once gentle Wanda had killed off her friends in a highly destructive manner.

So while he'd developed further mutations, and a less ugly appearance, Wanda had lost her children, husband, teammates, and her grasp on the real world.

So what now, he asked himself. He could go on his way, but then what? He'd sit around and wonder what happened to her. He'd have to check back every now and then to see if she was still alive, and what she was doing. Wanda had been the plague of his life for too long. His obsession with her had brought him misery. And she hadn't wanted him at all.

- - -

When Wanda came into the living room and saw no sign of Toad but the folded blanket and his shoulder bag, she wondered if she'd imagined him yesterday. But before she could think any further, the sliding glass door opened and in he came. He wasn't looking at her, though. He was looking at the door, trying to pull it closed.

"It always does that," Wanda explained.

Toad had gone back inside intent on getting his bag and leaving. He wanted to leave without Wanda knowing, but he wasn't going to stay just because she was here. He pulled the door into place and looked at his bag. "Thanks for letting me stay here tonight. Er, last night."

"Oh, you're welcome. Did you have any breakfast this morning?"

"Not big on breakfast, personally."

"Oh."

"Guess I'll head out then." Shouldering his bag, he told himself, 'you have to leave, you have to leave.'

"Are you sure you wouldn't like anything to eat before you go? Or something to drink?"

He was hungry. He had plenty of American money to buy food, though. 'You've got to leave. If you don't leave now, you'll never be free of her. Get out before you loose your nerve.'

"Or anything for the road?"

She was being so kind again. But that's what she did. Made him think she actually liked him when she didn't. He looked away from the door and back to her. She was holding onto the cuff of her sleeve like it was blanket, and she the fretful owner. He'd lost years of his life to her, but there was something comforting in old habits, wasn't there?

"Well, I guess a little coffee wouldn't hurt," he conceded.

"I only have tea."

"Even better."

He followed her into the kitchen, where she put the kettle on the stove and set up two cups with tea bags.

"Where are you going now?" Wanda asked him, leaning against the counter.

"What? Oh."He hadn't thought of that. "Back to England, I guess."

"What did you really come here for?"

He half shrugged. "I came to see you. Well, to see if you were here."

"Why?"

'Because I have a bloody obsession with you, in case you hadn't noticed.' But he only said, "Because I heard rumors and I wanted to see if they were true." When he saw Wanda's eyes widen fearfully, he added, "Not rumors, actually. I had to search for the information."

"Who else knows I'm here? No one but Dr. Strange is supposed to know."

"Well, it's Dr. Strange and The Toad now. Really, I had to look very hard to find out where you were. I wanted to make sure you weren't dead."

Wanda didn't seem any more comforted. She looked on the verge of panic.

"Here, water's ready," Toad said, moving past her to turn off the kettle. He couldn't remember Wanda being so disquieted. Maybe she really wasn't mentally sound anymore. "I didn't tell anyone where you are. And I won't. So stop worrying."

"I'm -"

"Here." He set a cup of tea in front of her, and they drank in silence. When Toad finished, he reluctantly picked up his bag again. "Guess I'll be going, then." Wanda made no objection, only a slight nod, so he trudged over to the front door. He looked back at her and saw her looking back at him. Uninterested. As always.

Wanda didn't say anything as she watched him slowly leave and close the door behind him. She wondered if tomorrow she'd come to doubt the actuality of Toad's short visit. Maybe. She thought about whether or not she should tell Stephen. Probably not. With nothing to do for the rest of the day, she looked into her dark cup of tea and entertained herself by watching the patterns that the milk made in it.

- - -

The hour hand of the little clock reached one o'clock. Her entire morning had slipped away from her again. And why was she just sitting here? The past few weeks, she'd been telling Stephen that if she was going to be alive, she wanted to live. She didn't want to spend the rest of the life that was forced on her in a mental hospital on anti-psychotic drugs. Yet here she was, no more alive and little more in control of her life than when she had been in Genosha.

She remembered seeing a 'help wanted' sign in the window of a restaurant she'd passed yesterday on her way to the museum. The job would be nothing to boast about, but it would be something. Something to keep her from asking her father or Dr. Strange for help. Something for her to wake up for in the mornings.

Wanda went to the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the tiny mirror. Once she'd brushed her hair and washed her face, she scrutinized her appearance. Did she look sane? What would be a good name to give her prospective employers? And her history? She could attribute her lack of former jobs to being a housewife or something of the nature. She could be recently divorced. That might be believable.

Perfecting her plan as she went, she found her purse and went out.

- - -

Toad looked at her front door from the rooftop across the street. Again.

Groaning to himself, he painfully admitted defeat at the unknowing hands of Wanda Maximoff. He'd tried to leave twice so far, making at as far as the subway station once, but he couldn't bring himself to get on. So he'd ended up back here again.

He'd been in the same situation in the past; waiting to see her, and feeling what he'd thought was lovesickness. Now he wasn't sure what it was he felt, but he was miserable. He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave her. After all these years, he still couldn't leave her. He'd been doing so well without her for the past few years. He thought for himself now. He made his own decisions - uninfluenced by anyone else. But now here he was again, wrapped around Wanda's finger.

He shouldn't have stayed for tea. That must have been what did him in. No, prior to that even, he shouldn't have come to see her. If he'd just stayed hidden away in England, none of this would have happened. He might still be a free man instead of being stuck up on a rooftop in March with the freezing wind blowing against him.

Fuck the freezing wind, he thought. If he was going to be ridiculous about this whole thing, he might as well go all the way.

- - -

Toad stood on the doorstep, waiting for the door to open. He knew she was home because he'd seen her go back inside about a half hour earlier. He had no idea what he'd say, but he surmised that he couldn't ruin what he didn't have.

His heart went rigid when he heard footsteps. After a pause, the door opened, and there she stood, looking only somewhat surprised.

"Uh, I ... I was wondering ..." He should have rehearsed. "Could I - would you want ..."

"Come in, Mortimer."

Stunned, he entered her apartment once again. She hardly ever called him by his given name. And her reaction was so ... calm. So knowing. Why was she just letting him in?

"Do you want to stay here for a while longer?"

"Yes." His answer came out before he could think about it. Yes, I want to stay here with you.

"I'll be gone for the day tomorrow. I have a job. But you're welcome to stay."

"Thank you. Are - are you sure that's all right?"

"Yes, I think so."

Mortimer closed the door behind him.

Author's Note:

I want to clarify a few things about Toad's features. He's been undergoing a few changes in the comics, largely thanks to the movie. I expect that what has not been added to the comic book character from the movie version will be added soon. So, in addition to the tongue and leaner appearance, I'm also allowing the webbed, sticky hands and the kick-boxing skills.

My truly heartfelt thanks goes out to Pateetchka. She has helped me with this story for so long (I have another fifty some chapters to add). She is a faithful reader and editor. I don't know what would have become of this story in a couple places where I was completely lost, had Pateetchka not come to my rescue. She is the Yomiko to my Nenene.

You are the best, my old friend. : nudge-wink :