Summary: "I don't need another Vision, or another Universe, to have my boys." She moved a hand up to my jawline, tracing her fingers along my chin. "All I need is you, tonight, in this bed—and nine months." Scarlet Witch/Doctor Strange. M for smut.

Spoilers ahead for Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.

New Divide

By Ninazadzia

"I remembered black skies
The lightning all around me
I remembered each flash
As time began to blur
Like a startling sign
That fate had finally found me
And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve…"

~New Divide, Linkin Park

At a certain point, the memories are hazy.

"Tell me again."

I caught the hint of Sokovian that was still left in Wanda's accent as her gaze bore into mine. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was trying to read my mind, which as far as I was aware was an ability she had yet to acquire—but there were definitely times she had me fooled.

"What, my first dozen retellings weren't enough of a deep dive?" I mused.

She pursed her lips. For someone so lethal, she could look awfully innocent when she wanted to. "Where's that photographic memory when you need it, Stephen?"

I raised an eyebrow. She had a point.

"Look, we've been at this for days. I don't see how much more it will help, for us to talk about what happened."

"You seem to forget only one of us fully remembers what happened."

I nodded slowly, because I had to give her at least that much. Whatever had happened at Mount Wundagore had taken its toll on Wanda. When I found her in the rubble and brought her back to the Sanctum, the most she could remember was that she'd made it to another universe, and had come across a variant version of herself—which in itself was an out-of-body experience, to put in mildly.

What I was struggling with, was how in the hell was I supposed to tell Wanda the full extent of what she'd done? That she'd murdered most of my apprentices at Kamar Taj, along with another universe's equivalent of the Avengers? That she'd tried to sacrifice the life of a child—America—as a means of reuniting with her boys?

"Stephen," she said slowly, her voice cutting through my thoughts. I turned to look at her.

Here was the face of a woman I'd spent the better part of last week facing down as my enemy. But in this moment, all I saw was my ally. Another Avenger. "I'm not stupid," she said quietly. "I know that you're keeping me here," she motioned to the walls of the Sanctum, "—and that whatever I've done to be placed under house arrest, I probably deserve it."

I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. "Alright."

"I know it was really, really bad. So please, let's just rip the proverbial bandaid off. What the hell did I do?"

I paused for a moment. If I could just freeze this moment in time, where we stared across one another in one of the Sanctum's spare rooms, and continue as we were—staying up all hours of the night. Letting her piece together the memories she still had, however cloudy they may be. Buying however much time I could until I figured out what in the world exactly I was supposed to do with a disgraced former Avenger, who I was actively hiding from Wong, and the other Masters, and the United States government, for that matter.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I'd delivered plenty of bad news in my lifetime—told patients they were terminal and had no chance of recovery. Dealt the blow that there was no way for us to defeat Thanos, other than for half the Universe to be snapped out of existence. But there was something about the tears in Wanda's glassy eyes that made my voice catch as I managed to get the words out.

"You, um… you used the Darkhold," I finally choked out.

The color drained from Wanda's face. "The Darkhold," she repeated. "I remember studying it, after Westview. I remember…" her voice trailed off, as if she were suddenly hundreds of miles away. "I—I remember reading about a spell, one that allows me to dreamwalk between the universes. I remember seeing something about my boys—"

She stopped short. My face must have given me away.

"My boys," she repeated, staring at me intently. "I saw them, didn't I?"

"In a way," I mustered, my voice raspy.

"What do you mean, 'in a way?'" she snapped.

"What do you think, Wanda?" I snapped right back. Because, God, I'd fucking had it. I'd spent the better part of a week coddling a witch who had let the lure of darkness get the best of her, and while I understood it as well as anyone else could—as well as someone who did, at the end of the day, want to be in a universe where I could be with Christine—I was tired.

And besides, she'd asked me to rip off the proverbial bandaid, so I may as well give her that much. "You dreamwalked into another version of yourself so you could steal the powers of a literal child, as a means to be with your children in another universe. And, for good measure, you killed a couple hundred people in the process, including another universe's Avengers."

Her eyes widened, clearly appalled, but I didn't care. My patience had worn thin, so I continued. "And, yes, I guess somewhere along the way, you did reunite with your children—but they didn't want anything to do with you, so you let them go. And you let Other Wanda take the reins, and then you destroyed the Darkhold in every universe, and buried yourself in the process."

I exhaled—out of agitation or relief, I couldn't say—and watched her expression closely. Whatever emotions she was feeling, I couldn't quite read the expression on her face, as she'd turned away from me, to look out the window at her bedside.

"It took you three days to get that out, huh?" she said finally, exasperated, running her hands through her hair. "Wow. Okay, then."

I sat at the foot of her bed, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, Wanda. I should've been more delicate…"

"No, please." She shook her head. "If it was really as bad as you say…" she looked up from the window, turning to face me again. This time, the glassiness in her eyes was gone. "Wong doesn't know I'm here, does he?"

I shook my head, slowly.

"Does anybody know I'm here?" she whispered.

"They all think you died," I said quietly.

She nodded. My words hung in the air for a moment. It was so quiet, I could hear Wanda's heart racing.

"Are you going to kill me, Stephen?"

I tried to stifle it, but I couldn't help but laugh. "Wanda, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it already."

"Then what am I doing here? Surely, you're not trying to extract information from me—clearly I don't know anything."

I scanned her expression. It was the same one she wore when I went to see her in Sokovia—when she'd cast the illusion of the apple orchard, hiding the magic and the Darkhold's corruption of her.

It was amazing. She was one of the most powerful magic-wielders I'd ever come across, and she'd had enough trauma for a hundred lifetimes. And yet, when I looked into her eyes, I saw the face of someone I desperately wanted to protect.

"It's like I said," I started, instinctively reaching across the bed to grab her hand. In my time as a physician, I'd always been criticized for my bedside manner—but hey, there was no time to work on it like the present. "I could really use an Avenger. And to be honest, Wanda—I think you could really use me."

"I've lost everyone I love," she started, her tone a touch defensive. "What makes you think I need anyone? I've done…"

"…just fine on your own?" I finished for her. "I hate to say it, Wanda—but I don't think a homicidal rampage qualifies as 'just fine.'"

She looked down at our hands, intertwined in one another. "No," she murmured under her breath, "No, I guess it doesn't."

Neither of us said anything for a moment, our hearts pounding as we sat a few feet across from one another on the bed. I only meant to reach out to her and give her my hand as an ally, as her friend—but the more time that passed, and the more she clutched onto it, the more I felt a burning sensation, somewhere deep inside of me. It was the same fire I felt when I was around Christine, the same feeling of wanting my skin to melt into hers. And here I was, in bed with another red-head, with that same sensation.

"Stephen," she started, slowly. "What exactly do you need an Avenger for?"

I measured my next words very carefully. "I guess it's not so much a 'need.' More of a 'mutual benefit.'"

"Meaning…?"

"I care for you, Wanda. I know we've only worked together a few times…but I see your pain. And I want to help you through it. And I guess…"

My voice trailed off. I thought of Christine, and what I'd said to her in the incursion universe. "It's not that I don't want to care for someone, or have someone care for me. I just get scared."

I always had to be the one holding the knife. And for as much of a control freak as I was, Wanda Maximoff was probably the only person in my universe who was even worse—and who, for better measure, sure as shit didn't need my protection.

"You're right, Stephen," she whispered. "I don't need your protection."

In that moment, I turned to look at her. I noticed the smile on her face.

Fuck. I guess I was wrong. At some point along the way, telepathy was a skill she'd acquired.

"You got all of that, didn't you?" I asked.

She nodded, letting out a small laugh. "Yeah, I did. It's sweet—that conversation with Christine." And then, she added, "It's sweet that you think I can handle myself, especially seeing how great of a job I've done these last few weeks."

"Well, what can I say," I managed. "Nobody's perfect." We both laughed. Her face was so close to mine, I could smell the perfume wafting off of her skin. "And I guess I have a thing for red-heads."

She nodded, finally moving herself to bridge those final few inches. "Okay. You want to talk mutually beneficial?"

I nodded, the feeling of her breath against my lips electrifying.

"I don't need another Vision, or another universe, to have my boys." She moved a hand up to my jawline, tracing her fingers along my chin. "All I need is you, tonight, in this bed—and nine months."

I wanted to pull back, the implication of her suggestion hitting me. But I couldn't help it—I was so drawn in, so in deep, infatuated by her scent and lusting for the feeling of her skin against mine.

"Do you think we can make that happen? Because if you give me my boys, Stephen—they'll be our boys. Then you'll have three people to love and care for. You won't have to be alone, or scared, anymore."

The logical, practical part of my brain—the one that allowed me to get my PhD and my MD at the same time, the one that allowed me to re-fuse complicated spines in surgery—screamed at me to tell her "no." But I couldn't help myself.

For as much as I knew she'd ruin me, I wanted her. I wanted Wanda, in all of her beauty and imperfection, the powerful witch who was every bit my equal as much as I was hers.

So, I breathed against her lips, "deal," as I finally closed the space between us.

It was seamless, the feeling of her lips as she moved against mine, the feeling of her body pressed up against me. She brought every bit of fire and intensity I would have expected as she bucked her hips against mine, locking her legs around my waist as I drank her in.

God, did I want every inch of her. I ripped her shirt off as she undid the buckle on my belt, and trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone as she worked her hands around my shaft.

"Tell me what you want," she breathed, stroking my member in between her hands. I couldn't help but let a moan escape my lips.

"You, Wanda," I breathed. "I want all of you."

"Uh-huh." This time, she pumped my cock in between her hands, faster. "Say it again."

"Fuck, Wanda," I managed, "I want to fuck you so badly. Want to feel myself inside of you." And then, from the most animalistic, carnal part of me, "want to come inside of you."

She threw me back onto the bed, so I was lying flat on my back. She pulled down her pants and panties so they pooled around her ankles, and she positioned herself directly on top of me. "You want to give me your cum, Stephen?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," I managed. She was teasing her entrance against the tip of my cock, and it was all I could do not to scream. "I want to give you what you want so badly."

That was all the confirmation she needed as she lowered herself onto me. It was ecstasy, feeling her pussy tighten around my cock, watching her face as she moaned and rode me, moving her hips in tandem with mine. I wrapped my hands around the back of her neck, pulling her face down to kiss her.

"Are you going to give me my babies, Stephen?" she asked.

I nodded, feeling myself coming close to a climax. "Yes, Wanda." I was at the edge, mesmerized by her brown orbs. "I want to give them to you."

"Let go," she whispered. It was all the permission I needed to spill myself inside of her, my cum releasing in hot spurts inside of her pussy.

We lay awake for a while afterward, panting in between the sweaty silk sheets. Her legs were haphazardly strewn across me, and I had my fingers tangled into her hair.

"What happens next?" I asked her, after a few moments.

She laughed. "You're the doctor, Stephen."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you of all people should know it could take at least a few more tries for me to get pregnant."

I shrugged, pulling her in close. "I can't say I'm opposed to that."

"So give me reason
To prove me wrong
To wash this memory clean
Let the floods cross
The distance in your eyes
Give me reason
To fill this hole
Connect this space between
Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies
Across this new divide…"

~New Divide, Linkin Park

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for reading! I got inspired re-watching MoM this weekend. I realized that Wanda and Stephen can technically both give each other what they want deep down (Wanda wants her kids, Stephen wants somebody to love/care for, but he can't be with Christine because he's scared of hurting her or getting hurt), and that the two of them together is a very mutually beneficial pairing. Maybe not exactly what the other person wants, but it's a natural pairing, imho.

Let me know what you think in the reviews. Thanks for reading!

xx Nina