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Chapter 34
It's a proven fact that as you get older, times goes by faster. It's not that time literally speeds up on a quantum level, but the individual's perception of time changes. When once a summer off from school seemed like a blissful eternity, to the College Sophomore, the summer is now wretchedly short.
The only exception to this rule is in matters of the heart. All the time in the world can pass by and the pain of a broken heart is never ending.
…
"You're just knocking these out like writing is going out of style," Kate smirked as she leafed through John's latest submissions.
He simply shrugged, "Got more time on my hands is all."
"Oh?" she looked at him above the rim of her glasses.
"Yeah," he replied in a 'don't want to talk about it' fashion and she got the point.
"Well," Kate sat the pages down in front of her, "starting next week you are going to give your work to Lawrence, he'll be your new editor," and when John gave her a curious look she explained, "I got a job offer, better pay and I can work from home, so I took it."
"Oh, congrats," he smiled at her, it felt good to see one of his friends be successful.
"You can still find me at the bar on weekends though," she winked and laughed at the old joke.
"I'm sure I'll see you there," John chuckled back.
Kate grinned, "Look forward to it."
…
"This is your last year?" Wanda asked Matt quietly as they sat in the campus library. Classes didn't start for another week but already students were getting back into the routine.
"Last semester," he nodded, "my post-graduate work will be done. I've passed my bar. I'll be ready to open my own law office."
"That's ambitious," she didn't try to hide the awe in her voice, it was a big step to open a law office.
"I've done some intern and paralegal work in top offices," Matt shrugged it off, "but they really focus on the high dollar, I want to get down in the trenches, help people who might not be able to help themselves."
"Like the blind," the words slipped out.
"Exactly," he nodded, "people should not be punished by their disabilities, they should embrace them. Unfortunately, the rest of the world hasn't gotten that memo."
"Probably in their junk email box," she said wryly.
Matt chuckled, "Likely."
…
"No, I got it, I could get you a lap dance," Remy rubbed his hands together and John just gave him a look, "It's brilliant, cause, you know, you're not actually allowed to touch."
"While I kinda appreciate the thought," he frowned, "I'm gonna go with a no on that one."
"But it'll be your 21st birthday," his friend punctuated the date, "we have to do something special."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
John raised one eyebrow, "I think you overestimate your importance."
"Yes," Remy didn't even flinch.
…
"Now," Wanda's teacher was leaning against the podium, "I'm assuming, as you are in my class, that you have an interest in becoming a practicing criminal lawyer, though some of you may just be curious."
There was a mummer through the Criminal Law class. She had met a few of her fellow classmates, like Anne, who weren't sure what they wanted to do with their degree, be a criminal lawyer, administrative lawyer, or one of a few dozen other types to choose from.
"That's why I think you should all get a little taste of what it will be like," the teacher smiled, "that way you don't waste your hard earned time here at Harvard on something you don't really care for."
The teacher moved to his desk and a pile of manila envelopes, picking one up. "Each of these have your names on them, inside is a real case from the real world. You are given a side, Prosecution or Defense. After researching your case, you're going to present it before the class in a mock courtroom setting."
More groans and curious chatter filled the room.
"It doesn't matter who won the case in the real world," he continued, "whoever gives me the best argument wins."
Someone in the front row raised their hand and the teacher acknowledged with a nod. "Isn't this a bit beyond us? We're mostly all second years."
"Which is precisely why I'm having you do it," he held his hands up to stop the constant murmuring. "I don't expect to get from you what I want out of my fourth year Criminal Procedures class. The winner just gets to be called the winner, and as long as both sides at least try, they will get the full points for the assignment."
A wave of relief washed across the students.
"Also, to make things go faster," the teacher continued, "you'll be working in teams of two, two prosecutors, two defenders. Both partners will have to pull their weight. If I think one is slacking and letting the other do all the work, or one is being domineering and taking over the case, then I'll award points accordingly."
Wanda had no problems with the assignment overall, this was basically a glorified debate and that was something she did well. Working with a partner would entirely depend on the partner.
"Alright, come up, get your packet, find your partner, exchange information," then the teacher grinned, "and take this seriously, but not too seriously, the best lawyers are the ones who don't have ulcers."
Row by row the students got up and found their envelope, taking it back to their seats to check out their case. Though by the time Wanda got hers most everyone was milling about, meeting up with whoever their luck of the draw partner was.
Opening up her packet she discovered she was chosen as a defense lawyer for a rather big criminal case, a federal criminal case actually.
"Wanda Maximoff?" a man walked up to her, he had close cropped blonde hair and something of a chiseled, handsome face.
"Yes, you must be Victor," she glanced at the cover page, "Victor Vision."
"It's pronounced Vie-shon," he spoke in a distinctive New England accent, "it's French."
"Oh, sorry," she apologized and he gestured for her to take a seat.
"No need, I get it a lot," they both sat down next to each other. "Looks like we have a bit of a tough sell on our hands."
"Yes," she frowned, glancing over the summary and suggested reading list for their case, "defending Timothy McVeigh, he blew up the Alfred P. Murrah building in Oklahoma City in 1995, killed 168 people, including children."
"He was found guilty," Victor was also looking over the documents, "later confessed while on death row. This won't be easy."
Wanda frowned, then as she glanced around the room a thought came to her, "And that's exactly why we'll win."
He raised one eyebrow, "I'm not sure I follow."
"The prosecutors are probably looking at this as an easy win," she grinned as she spoke in a low voice, "and they probably expect us to have already given up."
"Ah, yes," he nodded, gaining a matching grin, "if we give this everything we've got, we could catch them unprepared."
"Exactly," Wanda was glad Victor easily fell into her train of thought.
"Now all we have to do is defend a mass-murdering domestic terrorist," he spoke wryly.
"No, we have to defend our client," she gave him her best lawyer voice, "and our client is of course innocent of these heinous accusations."
"Wanda Maximoff," Victor smiled, "I'm either afraid of you or beginning to like you."
She laughed, "I get that sometimes."
…
"Strip club?"
"No."
"Just strippers?"
"No."
"Vegas?"
"No."
"Strippers in Vegas?
"Hanging up now…"
…
The classroom had gone deathly silent.
As the defenders, Victor and Wanda went second after the prosecutors. It was obvious that the opposing side at least did their homework, looked up the major points in the case, and gave a showing that would earn them a passing grade for the assignment.
So when it was Wanda and Victor's turn, they ripped the prosecutions case to shreds.
The two 'defense lawyers' took several notes as to the information and evidence the prosecutors had neglected to add in their foolish belief that they had the upper hand. Piece by piece Victor and Wanda created reasonable doubt that McVeigh was not guilty of the crime by attacking the holes that their opponents had left open.
After giving the last closing argument for the defense, Wanda sat down next to her partner in the stilled room, their teacher in a stunned silence.
"I must say," he finally spoke to Wanda and Victor, "that's the kind of thing I expect to see in my fourth year students."
Wanda gave a little nod as acknowledgement of the praise.
The teacher then looked at the prosecutors who were pale and shame faced, "You didn't do bad, but you didn't do good either. If you had taken this more seriously then these two wouldn't have eaten you alive, it was your case to lose," this totally deflated them, "but I'm giving you a pass because at least you did your homework. Your biggest failing was assuming your short speech with the 'high points' was enough to convict when obviously it wasn't. Sometimes it's the little things that matter most. Consider this a lesson learned."
The prosecutors nodded and generally accepted that they screwed up.
"As for you two," he looked between Wanda and Victor, "I can't wait to see you in my Criminal Procedure class, if that's the road you're inclined to take… and if it is… do the world a favor… work for the good guys because if you work for the criminals, we're all screwed."
While Wanda had no intention of ever working for criminals, she took that as a compliment never the less.
After the class ended, Victor followed her out, "We pulled it off, I admit, I had my doubts."
"Never doubt yourself," she told him coolly, "otherwise you're simply accepting that failure is an option and it's only an option if you're a Mythbuster."
"A Mythbuster?" he gave her a strange look.
"It's a tv show," that John loved to watch is what she almost added to that sentence.
"Oh, I don't watch much television," Victor shrugged.
"I haven't watched much either since I started college," she admitted and they headed out of the building, about to split ways to their next classes.
"Wanda," he spoke a little awkwardly, "I have a friend in a small public theater group, they are doing Twelve Angry Men this weekend, would you care to come see it, with me, for them, they need all the support they can get."
"To support them," she asked slyly, it sounded awfully like a date to her.
"We could have dinner afterwards," Victor added with a shy shrug.
Wanda really had to think this over. It had been six months since she broke up with John… so this wouldn't count as rebound, would it? And Victor wasn't anything like John, other than they were both highly intelligent. Victor had a sense of humor, it was subdued, he didn't make her constantly laugh like John did. He was just as accepting of her style and even complimented her taste in jewelry, though mostly for their historical element. Not to mention Victor understood the law just as well as she did and they could spend hours talking about it.
What had she told Marie? It doesn't have to be serious, just getting to know you time, getting to know yourself time?
Victor was fairly handsome and had a fondness for old black and white movies…
"Twelve Angry Men," she smiled at him, "the original play or did they update it to modern time?"
"You'll have to come see to find out," he returned her smile.
"Right answer," she grinned.
…
"If strippers show up I swear they'll never find your body," John told his friend as he was passed a beer.
"I got the hint," Remy took a swig of his own drink, "but hey, at least I never mentioned hookers."
John had been taking a drink and now beer was in his lungs, not a smart place for it to be. Remy went to pat him on the back then stopped awkwardly, letting John cough and get his breath back.
"Hookers?" the Aussie frowned, "Really?"
His friend shrugged, "Just thinking outside the box for you, to fix that little problem you have."
"You're my best friend, Remy," John sighed, "please don't make me kill you, I'd miss you terribly."
"Aww," he put his hand over his heart, "you'd miss me."
John rolled his eyes and took another swig of beer, the two of them standing in the kitchen of his apartment. Remy had finally settled on just having a party for John's birthday, inviting all his friends from the paper, school, and a few from Xavier's who could make it. Sure, it was loud, but Foggy didn't mind, it was a special occasion.
"You really need to get over your obsession with me having sex," John grumbled to his friend just audible enough for only him to hear.
"Hey," Remy was thankfully quiet, "if you were holding out cause of some religious/moral thing then okay, I could get behind that, I'm Roman Catholic after all."
"Lapsed," John replied dryly.
"But, dude," Remy ignored him, "what happened to you was years ago, Wanda, any girl really, they aren't going to hurt you."
"I know that," he replied through gritted teeth.
"Then act like it," Remy shot back.
"It's not that easy," he wanted to shout but was aware of everyone in the living room.
"Everything is easy," his friend told him, "we just make it hard."
John sighed and shook his head… if it was only that easy.
There was a knock on the door and Foggy happened to be on that side of the room so he answered it.
"Now it's a party," Wade strolled in with two bags full of who knows what in his hands.
"Dad!" John's eyes lit up, he hadn't been sure the man would be able to make it.
"Pyro!" he called back like he was in a football rally.
"Are you Ryan Reynolds?" someone asked.
Wade grinned, "No, but I get that a lot."
John went up to his dad and gave him a big hug, he hadn't seen him since Christmas and really missed the one person he knew wouldn't judge him, at all.
"Happy Birthday, kid," his dad told him softly, well, for him.
"Thanks, Wade," John grinned at him, "I'm surprised you could make it but I'm glad you could."
"Well," he chuckled, "JayCee realized I hadn't really been around for awhile and figured the audience might like to see me again, plus she needed a little filler for this chapter if you hadn't noticed."
"Huh?" sometimes his dad would say the strangest things.
"I brought goodies!" Wade held up the sacks to show a ton of alcohol and chips.
As Wade pulled out the massive bottles of really expensive liquor, Kate came up beside him, "This is your dad?"
"Adopted," he admitted without shame, "but yeah."
"He's pretty awesome," she was eyeing a bottle of 40 year old Glenfiddich.
"So I've been told," he laughed.
…
"No, Juror Number 8 actually fell asleep during the play," Wanda said as she walked with Victor from the parking lot to her dorm.
"Play acting," Victor replied, "I assure you."
"I suppose we'll never know," she shook her head.
"The magic of theater," he nodded and they stood in front of the dorm, Wanda pulling her electronic key from her purse to be buzzed through.
"I enjoyed tonight," she decided. It had dawned on her when he told her the exact date of the play that it was John's 21st birthday. She felt a dull ache at the thought but going to the play, spending time with Victor, it actually made her forget… for a little while.
"We should do it again," the man smiled.
"We should," she agreed and then she thought he might try to kiss her. Wanda had to decide if she was going to let it happen. After her non-touching, kiss-only relationship with John she had a particular affection towards kisses. They could truly be more intimate than sex itself.
She did like Victor…
As he leaned in she tilted her face up to meet his, her body deciding for her while her mind was still wrapped in turmoil.
Victor kissed her, soft and simple, a chaste kiss for a budding relationship. As sweet as it was, it still felt of a certain emptiness… a lack of… fire.
"Good night, Wanda," he pulled back, a smile on his lips, "I'll call you tomorrow."
She returned his smile with a slightly wicked one of her own, "I might answer."
The man shook his head, "You are one of a kind, Wanda Maximoff."
"I know," she grinned, swiping the door and pulling it open, "good night, Victor."
He nodded and turned to head back towards the parking lot, he didn't live on campus but nearby in an apartment with three other Harvard students. She watched him for a moment then headed inside and up to her room.
Jennifer was out, probably wouldn't be back until the morning, so she took her time getting changed for bed, trying to sort out everything that happened. She did enjoy herself, she enjoyed her time with Victor… but Victor had one major flaw…
He wasn't John.
Wanda picked up her phone and started to write a text message, a simple Happy Birthday note to John, it was his 21st Birthday after all…
Chastising herself, she cleared the message and sat the phone on her desk.
She had to get over him already, that was the only way she was going to be able to move on with her life and be able to give someone like Victor a chance.
…
John checked his phone for what had to have been the fiftieth time that night. He felt silly, why would Wanda text him? They broke up after all… but he really hoped that maybe they could go back to being friends…
Who was he kidding?
The party wound down as many started to leave before they passed out on the floor. Thankfully Foggy had volunteered to call cabs for everyone who didn't have a designated driver. John, for his part, was the closest to drunk he had ever been… but not quite there yet…
"Like your presents?" Wade was grinning at him.
"They're awesome," John referred to the signed first editions now safely tucked away in his room, "and thanks again for coming by."
"Hey," the man wrapped his arm around his shoulders, "it's my kid's birthday, his 21st no less, of course I was gonna be here."
John hugged his dad tight, noting how he only really felt comfortable like this around Wade… but then Wade was the one who had saved him. He was the only person his brain could accept that yes, he would never hurt him. Why was it so hard to put others in that category too?
For the most part, John had finally been able to not flinch at every arm waved in his general direction, but he still stalled out when it came to that one last barrier of touch.
"Well, it's late," Wade was gathering up his jacket, "and JayCee did some edits and this chapter became longer than anticipated so she's benching me again, for now, you know I'll be back."
"Uh, okay?" that made no sense whatsoever.
"You take care of yourself, kid," his dad gave him a hug, "now enough with the sappy," he laughed, "seeya around, son."
John saw Wade out and realized it was really, really, late, and just about everyone had left.
"Mind if I take this?" Kate came out into the hall before John could go back inside the apartment, in her hand was an almost empty bottle of Glenfiddich.
"Sure," he wouldn't doubt if she had drank the rest of it, "you're not driving though, are you?"
"Nope," she winked, tucking the bottle into her bag, "taxi should be here any minute now."
"Oh, good," he knew Kate was one of those people who never seemed drunk when she had a lot but she was in no shape to actually operate a motor vehicle.
"Walk me down?" Kate asked.
John glanced back into the apartment and all that was left was Remy, Foggy, and two of his college friends playing poker, "Yeah, sure."
"Been keeping up with your column," she told him as they descended the stairs, "still doing quality work."
"Thanks," he shyly beamed, not always the best at taking praise, "oh, I read the article you had in the Huffington Post, that was textbook journalism right there, straight to the point and took no prisoners."
"Why, thank you," she laughed, not nearly as timid as he was.
They got outside just as the cab pulled up. Being polite, John reached over and opened the door for her. When he looked back at Kate, she smiled at him, and then strangest thing happened.
Kate kissed him.
She just leaned in and planted one straight on his lips.
His brain panicked from the sudden movement, his body going still, though Kate didn't seem to take any notice as she winked with a sultry tip to her lips, "Night, John."
She disappeared into the cab without another word, she probably figured his inaction was just a natural reaction to an unexpected kiss and not a symptom of John's condition. As the taxi drove off, John didn't know what to think of what just happened.
Kate kissed him, so obviously she liked him, right? Could it have been the alcohol? She wasn't that drunk though, he'd seen her tip back worse. Though more importantly, he liked her. She was beautiful, smart, and a really good writer. He had never thought of her in that way before because he was dating Wanda, but now that he did…
It was a moot point. John couldn't be touched, so even if they started a relationship it would end up the same as his last one.
Wait, Kate knew nothing of John's psychosis … from a history she knew nothing about… of scars she knew nothing about…
Maybe… maybe that could work in his favor? Maybe the reasons he couldn't make it work with Wanda would allow him to make it work with Kate?
He had to try…