Chapter 42

Wanda wasn't sure how she felt about weddings.

Her father had several, her brother's was a shotgun wedding, her best friend redefined 'avoidance' because she had commitment issues, and the man getting married today had his own marriage problems in the past.

But it was a fairly beautiful affair.

Coach Howlett actually looked dashing rather than like a monkey in a suit. Marie was one of the bridesmaids and they all glittered in their silver dresses. Then there was Miss Munroe, well, Mrs Howlett now, who was absolutely radiant in her gold dress (Wanda agreed, white was so overrated).

"How you doing?" Wanda asked Marie after the ceremony.

"Feet hurt a little," she lifted up her skirt a bit to show some really pretty, but very high, heels which she promptly slipped off.

Wanda laughed, "I'll see you at the reception."

"We won't be long," Marie smiled then headed down the hall to where the wedding party was taking pictures.

The wedding itself took place at a small church, mostly just family and close friends where invited. Wanda was there for Marie, mostly, the girl still not sure how she felt about her dad getting remarried to her former math teacher/tutor, but Wanda had a feeling once the day was over the anxiety would go away.

As for the reception, it was taking place at Xavier's with a lot more people invited to come eat the buffet, drink the booze, and nom on cake.

Having just started her new job at Murdock and Nelson, Wanda moved to New York City, close to Hell's Kitchen actually, and bought herself a car. It was a basic car, a few years old, nothing overly fancy. Wanda had no need for status symbols, she was just a lawyer trying to help people. Sure, her first couple of cases were simple housing cases, renters getting screwed over by their landlords, but she hadn't expected to get the juicy ones right off the bat.

Matt may have had faith in her, but she still needed to prove to everyone, including herself, that she could handle real world situations. So far, so good.

For the first time in a long time, she was really happy with where she was in life.

"Wanda," she met up with her father when she got to Xavier's where the reception was taking place.

"Father," she smiled and sat down at a table with him, "they'll all be here shortly."

"Understandable," he sipped on his drink, "I've been through this a few times."

"Yes, you have," Wanda said bluntly, but not cruelly, it was a matter of fact.

"I did love all my wives," her father sighed, seeming to take it personally, "but my heart was lost to your mother. Women can tell, you know, when you're not loving them with all your heart. A small piece gone here or there they can forgive, but what I felt for Magda…" his words cut off and he looked away.

It was one of the few times her father had ever truly opened up to Wanda, she wasn't going to let it slip by, "Then why? Why did you try? Why did you make families with other women when you were still in love with someone else?"

He sat his glass down and took a deep breath, "Because I knew that as much as I loved Magda, there was too much pain between us to ever be able to be with her ever again. In her eyes there was guilt, anger, and my Anya, she saw the same in mine. So I tried to move on, and I did love Lorna and Zola's mothers, truly I did. In the end though, I couldn't get over my first true love."

"That still doesn't answer me," her voice was a little broken, hearing her father say such things.

"Because love is not a science," he smiled at her, "you can think you're in deep, mad love with someone, then it be gone in a flash. You can meet someone who makes what you felt before seem childish. There is no formula for it, nothing exact. It's like smoke, and some spend their life chasing through it thinking they will find something better on the horizon, when the truth is, love, does indeed, simply happen," he let out a light chuckle, "and should one be lucky enough to have that love returned, then they have a duty to explore it."

Wanda looked down and away, it was hard to hear her father talk of such things.

"My dear," he reached over and laid his hand on hers, "I know I have not been the best father, nor the best role model, but I only want you to be happy. Don't let the mistakes of my past dictate your future."

She stared at his hand as if it was a snake, ready to strike. "I am happy," she managed to say as it was mostly true.

"Truly happy," he pulled the hand away and gave her a small smile, "or happy enough?"

Taking a breath, she looked up at him, "As happy as I need to be right now."

"Congratulations, Coach," John shook the man's hand once he had a chance to talk to the newlyweds.

"Thanks, Allerdyce," Howlett gave him a gruff smile.

"And to you, Miss Munroe," he took her hand in a gentler, proper manner, "and double congrats, I hear you're taking over as Headmistress next school year?"

"Yes," she smiled warmly, "Xavier will stay on for a few months for the transition, then he's retiring."

"Good on him," John couldn't be happier for everyone, "and you're going to be an awesome Headmistress."

"Thank you, Saint-John."

There were plenty who wanted to well wish the happy couple so John bowed out and headed over to the buffet after spying Remy there.

"Hey, mate," he glanced across the spread as his friend acknowledged his presence with a nod of his head, "is that… pigs in a blanket?"

"Coach wanted something he could eat," the Southerner laughed, "I think there is some pulled pork at the end."

"Nice," John grabbed one of the pigs and noshed on it, "I don't see Creed here."

Remy shook his head, "Yeah, Creed was invited but he's not too happy with the situation, what with Howlett marrying Miss Munroe, and Miss Munroe getting the headmistress job."

"I can see that," John grabbed a small plate and loaded up on food.

"I give it till the end of next year," Remy started down the buffet towards the open bar, "Creed will be gone either by choice or by boot."

"Then Rogue can have his job?" John asked as he followed.

"Does sound a bit dodgy, or convenient, yeah," his friend ordered two beers, "but Creed is the one who got huffy over the whole thing, he's still the head coach out of seniority, they aren't going to change that. Plus Rogue was hired by Xavier to teach Personal Health."

"Personal Health?" John accepted one of the beers, "I didn't realize that was the class."

"Yeah," he sipped his drink, "Xavier wanted to decrease Miss Munroe's work load, plus he thought having a younger person teach the class might be more beneficial. Anyway, if Creed can't accept Miss Munroe as Headmistress, it's all on him."

"The Howlett's don't seem to do anything simple do they?" John now followed his friend towards the tables.

"No, no they don't," Remy laughed. "The good thing is, Mr Lensherr seems to have taken the lack of promotion happily enough. In fact, he may be looking to retire in a few years as well, but, that's just a rumor."

"Interesting," he nodded, "and speaking of rumors… that whole Warren/Cameron thing?"

"Yeah, about that," Remy turned to him and lowered his voice, "I can't really talk about that anymore, in fact, I'm not really supposed to know anything about a pending lawsuit."

"Gotcha," John winked.

"There you are," Rogue walked up to them.

"You look lovely, Rogue," John complimented the girl because she did actually look pretty good in silver, it made the white streak in her hair pop in a very flattering way.

"Thanks, Pyro," she smiled, then looped her arm through Remy's, "they are about to start the First Dance, we are not missing out."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the Cajun smiled down at his girlfriend, then quickly glanced up at John.

"I'm good here," he gestured to his food, "have fun you two."

"You know," Remy got one of his annoying grins, "weddings are a great place to pick up chicks."

John frowned and Rogue rolled her eyes, dragging him off, "Enjoy the food, Pyro."

Turning and heading towards the tables, he sighed, Remy could be a real pain sometimes, and had some of the strangest hobbies. Though as John scanned the area to find a place to set down, he did spot a familiar face… and there was something he needed to ask her…

Having been abandoned by Marie so she could go dance with her man, not that Wanda particularly blamed her, Wanda was left to sit at a table and check out some details of a case she was working. After the reception, Wanda and Marie would go out, just the girls, to let Marie decompress. Plus Wanda had a sneaky suspicion that if she left Marie alone with Remy after a wedding, there would be another 3am 'we broke up' call in her future.

"Wanda," a familiar voice called her name and she looked up to see John, "mind if I join you?"

"Can't see why not," she saw no reason to tell him to go away, she did miss him, missed being friends with him, maybe they might have a chance of getting that back now that they both had time to heal from that particular wound.

"Thanks," he smiled and sat down in the chair next to her. "Truth is, I have something to ask you."

"Oh?" various ideas of what he was about to say ran through her head, some that filled her with joy, others dread, for reasons she couldn't really understand in the moment.

"You know your IM name, The Scarlet Witch?" was not one of the things she was thinking.

"Yes," she frowned, "what about it?"

"Well," he took a breath, "that book I told you I finished? I've edited it a few times, cleaned it up, and, ah, I'm ready to ship it off and look for an agent."

"An agent?" Wanda was surprised and happy that apparently he was going to attempt to publish his original work.

"Yeah, you have to have an agent first," he started to ramble, "and then they hock your book to the publishers. Most publishers won't even look at you without an agent. Luckily I know a few people who know a few people. So I can get my work read, and if it's any good, then I'll get representation."

"I'm sure it will be great," she told him, unconsciously reaching over and holding his hand.

John looked at their joined hands and cleared his breath as Wanda pulled it away, not sure why she had done that, "Anyway, I kinda named the book The Scarlet Witch."

Wanda blinked, "Why did you do that?"

"Because that's what I named one of the main characters?" he replied sheepishly.

"Oh," now she frowned, "you named a character after me?"

"Not exactly," he furrowed his brow, "I had already envisioned this character, a strong leader, the daughter of a King, who wore blood red clothing to make her stand out, stand above, others. And, well, one day I got to thinking about the character, your IM name popped into my head, and suddenly I had a hook I was missing. She gets called a 'witch' because of her strength, of her ability to take charge once her father dies. It's actually a badge of honor, like when someone is called 'the destroyer', that kind of thing," he scratched the back of his neck, "in any case, she basically kicks a lot of ass and takes shit from no one, so I didn't think you'd mind if I borrowed your handle, but wanted to make sure before I sent it off."

Wanda took a second to think it over, "Well, that sounds good, in theory, but…" she took her chance, "but I think I'd like to read it before literally signing my name off on it."

She had never made any bones about her wanting to read one of his finished works, she wasn't about to let the opportunity pass her by. Hopefully her request wouldn't be met with too much hesitation, there was only so far she could push him.

"Um, ah," he chewed his lip for a moment, "okay, sure, I'll email it to you, but you have to promise not to show it to anyone, okay?"

"I promise," she smiled at him.

"Okay, good," John still looked a little nervous, "and it still hasn't gone through an actual editor, you know, but I want you to give me your honest opinion. I can take it."

"I will," she said, thinking he looked so cute when he was like this. Gah, those were thoughts that she shouldn't really be entertaining, not if she wanted to try to gain back their friendship, which was more important to her than anything else.

Wanda could admit it, she missed him, missed talking to him, but attempting another relationship after the last one… it would hurt too much.

"Hey, there's Professor Xavier," John awkwardly pointed out the man, "I've not talked to him in ages."

"He'll probably cut out early," she commented, trying to ease the moment, "so I'd go over there now."

"Yeah," he gathered his stuff and stood, a little too quickly, but then paused and looked down at her, "you look good by the way."

Wanda blushed a little, "Thank you, so do you."

With a slightly embarrassed smile, he nodded before heading off, leaving Wanda to sigh.

Damn it, she really did miss him…

"That guy is totally checking you out," Marie told Wanda as they sat at Harry's Hideaway getting a late night burger and fries.

Wanda glanced over and, sure enough, a man of about her age, not too shabby, suddenly looked away when he realized she was now looking at him. "It's a Saturday night," she shook her head, "that's probably why he's here, cruising for chicks, even has a wingman."

"So?" Marie gave her a 'duh' expression.

"So he's probably interested in short term, as in before the sun comes up," Wanda rolled her eyes, "not my thing."

"Are you even sure you have a thing?" her friend frowned.

"Just because I haven't had sex yet doesn't mean I don't know that I'm not interested in casual sex," she was a little disappointed in Marie at the moment and let her face show it.

"I'm a little worried about you, is all," Marie tried to sooth it over, "your whole life doesn't have to be about your job, I mean, I'm glad you decided to get a job that has that 'spark'. I just want you to find that spark with someone, like…"

"Like I had with John?" she finished the sentence bluntly.

"I saw you talking to him at the reception," Marie shrugged and got interested in her milkshake, "you two have chemistry, always have, still do."

"Then why aren't you pushing me off on him?" Wanda frowned, hearing her phone beep at her, the tone specifically for emails.

"Reverse psychology?" Marie attempted a smile

Wanda glanced at her phone and that was all it took to see what the message was about, "It didn't work, but don't worry about me, in fact, I have a date."

"You do?" Marie blinked.

"Yeah," she held up her phone to show the email from John, "with a book."

Eventually Wanda made it home to her apartment, a small space but a nice starter for someone who had never lived on their own before. She had to admit, at first it was a little different, she'd gotten used to having a roommate and the security of living on campus. True, the building had cameras and a buzz-through front door, not to mention others living on her floor, above and below as well. But this wasn't a school dorm, this was her place... and now that Marie mention it... it did feel a little empty.

Shaking her head, it's not like she actively avoided relationships, not technically. It's just that she hadn't met anyone who seemed to make the whole thing worthwhile.

She could have just said 'screw it' and decided to be a confirmed bachelorette and just have hook-ups, she'd had plenty of offers, plus if men can do it, why not her? But that all seemed like a horrible waste of time and effort.

So here she was, in her apartment, crawling into an empty bed.

Sure, it felt empty and a little lonely, but she was okay with that. It was a decision she had made.

And it wasn't going to be permanent, because if her father was right, one day she'd meet someone and it'll be as if she never loved John at all...

Wanda sat up sharply, "Well... fuck."

...

John could be honest, he was a little nervous.

He hadn't let anyone read his book yet, not even Kate. He was even feeling anxious about sending it out to solicit agents. He thought he had it in a good place, but what if he was just kidding himself? What if it was really just horrible, or poorly written, too simple, or the dialogue atrocious?

But he gave it to Wanda, the one person who would be totally honest with him...

Perhaps this would work out? If she hated it, she'd tell him, probably give him a five page essay on what he did wrong, and after seeing her destroy his creation he could possibly move past her?

Sometimes John didn't even know where the thoughts in his head came from.

He spent his Sunday morning and afternoon working on his latest assignments, doing some research and leaving voicemails. It distracted him, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep that up. Wanda probably wouldn't get back to him for maybe a week.

Then around seven, while he was putting his dinner dishes away, there was a buzz from the front door.

"Hello?" he asked into the intercom, it couldn't have been Remy, he had a key to the building, not to mention locks in general where only listed as 'suggestions' in the Cajun's mind.

"John, it's Wanda," was the last thing he expected to hear, "can I come up?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," he hit the buzzer then looked back at his apartment, doing a quick tidy up, thankfully it wasn't laundry day.

A minute later, there was knock on the door and he answered it to see Wanda, it was middle of June so she wasn't wearing a coat, just a red blouse and black slacks, he almost didn't see the red binder in her crossed arms. "Hi."

"Hi," he said awkwardly, gesturing into the apartment, "come in."

"Thanks," she smiled and took a few steps in, standing towards the middle of the small living room, "I finished your book," she turned towards him and held up the binder, "I printed it out, I hope you don't mind. I also made a few notes in the margins."

"Oh, ah," he took the binder as if it was a snake, "I knew you were a fast reader."

"Really fast if it's something I enjoy," she said softly, "the more I read it the more I couldn't stop. There was the occasional awkward sentence, but, overall, it was an amazing story."

John's head popped up, an unimaginable amount of relief lifting his shoulders, "Really? You liked it?"

"Yeah," she nodded and smiled broadly, "you created a very believable world, with characters just as fantastic as they are flawed. You're right, Queen Jandamarra, sorry, 'The Scarlet Witch', was pretty kick ass. I especially liked how you avoided having her give any grand 'I am woman, hear me roar' speeches. She was strong simply because she was, if anyone had a problem with it," she laughed, "ouch."

"That's why you don't piss off the Queen," John chuckled, opening the binder and flipping through, seeing the occasional comment in red ink. "Thank you, you have no idea what it means to hear that. I've been so afraid I…" he took a deep breath, then shook his head, "I'm sorry, where are my manners, do you want something to drink?" he moved towards the small kitchen, "It's late but if you have the time I'd like to go through some of your notes."

"I have time," she told him as he sat the book on the counter, "but can I ask you a question first?"

"Sure," he opened the fridge, "you still like Diet Coke, right?"

"Are you Ked?"

John paused, hand mid-reach, "Don't be silly."

"A slave boy with scars all over his back?" he heard her step forward.

"Coincidence," he tried to play it off, shutting the door to the fridge and turning around, "if anything, Ked is a little too typical, you know, the slave who becomes a knight."

"The slave… the property, who proves his worth," she nodded in agreement, "but Ked is more than a trope, isn't he? In the book, his struggles, his inability to let the constant pain of his wounds get in his way," she smiled as if she was trying to hold back tears, "but you don't oversell it, you don't make a big deal out of it, it's the way things are for Ked, he lives, he fights, and he loves, end of story."

"The story isn't over," John felt uncomfortable under her gaze and stepped away, back into the living room, "I set up for a sequel."

"I saw that," she nodded, "but it doesn't change who he is."

"Ked is just a character, fiction," he knew it, he knew he put too much of himself into his novel, but as he wrote the words flowed onto the page, a fantasy for himself that he had created long ago to survive the pain.

"It's okay, John," Wanda stayed where she was, "if this is your way of telling the world about your scars—"

"It's not like that," he cut her off, defending himself even though they both knew the truth.

"My mistake," she said softly after a long pause, moving towards the door, "I'll go now, we can talk about my notes later if you like."

He watched her through his peripherals, all the while the entirety of his life playing through his mind. While he had managed to break himself of his nervous tick and fear of being attacked, he never did get over the fact that, as a person, he felt like a beaten and broken object, an item of very little worth.

"Wait," he called out to her gently, he could barely hear himself so he was amazed she stopped.

"Yes, John?" there was nothing in her voice, no expectation, no accusation, just attentiveness.

"I can count on one hand all the people who have seen my scars," he admitted, not really looking at her. "I hid them because I didn't want to have to answer the questions, why did my father beat me? Why didn't I do something? The scars have always been my badge of guilt."

John wanted her to say something, he knew exactly what she should say, but she was smart, she knew he had to say the words himself.

"But," water welled up in his eyes, "but I have nothing to feel guilty for."

Tears ran down his cheeks while every inch of his marred flesh burned and tingled. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to hold it together.

"The guilt is not your burden to bear," Wanda spoke in her strong and beautiful voice as she approached him.

"I want to be strong," his breaths came out in huffs, "I want to be Ked."

"You already are, John," she reached up and gently cupped his face, "you always have been."

John couldn't breathe, his whole world exploding and shrinking at the same time. He wanted to believe her, he had to believe her… and maybe, just maybe, he did believe her.

Wanda's hand slowly dropped from his face, gently brushing against his shirt till it got to the hem, giving it a light tug, "Show me your scars, Saint John, show me your badge of courage."

He could have sworn his heart stopped for a few seconds, his whole body frozen at her words, at what she wanted him to do. Could he do it? She'd already seen his scars, but not by choice, so what would it hurt to show them to her? It could hurt everything, or so every bone in his body tried to scream.

Taking a deep breath, trembling hands went to the hem of his t-shirt. Much like taking a plaster off a wound, never a more befitting use of that turn of phrase, he tugged the cloth off up over his head swiftly. Avoiding Wanda's eyes, he held the shirt in his hands in front of him, a child not quite ready to let go of their security blanket just yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Wanda reached forward and gently touched the hook scar on his shoulder, giving it a soft caress. John shuddered, trying to clamp down on his fear, but he nearly fell apart when she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder.

"Wanda," he croaked out.

She shushed him gently, moving around to his back, "I'm admiring your strength, John."

He closed his eyes as he felt the tips of her fingers start to trace the familiar and silvery paths, "My strength?"

"The strength of a survivor," she placed several more gentle kisses, these on the tips of his shoulder blades, "Wade may have saved you, but you never gave up, you survived, you endured, don't ever question the pure strength of will that must have taken."

More memories rushed through his head, pain spiking everywhere, but as if Wanda knew which nerves were flaring, she chased away the pain wither her feather light caresses and soft, gentle kisses. John began to cry again, a mix of anguish and relief. He had bared his scars to another person by choice, an act that was as excruciating as it was liberating.

Barely noticing the ruffle of clothing, he then felt Wanda's bare chest press up against his back, her arms snaking around him to hold him tight. The unfamiliar feeling of so much flesh against flesh was the final straw and his knees could no longer hold him. He started to fall but Wanda held on, guiding him slowly to the ground to sit on his haunches, never letting go.

All that was left was for John to cry… wash away the pain… and hold on to his strength.