Part Two: The Long, Slow Goodbye
Three years later…
"How are your plants today, Wanda?" Ororo pushed aside a hanging leaf as she came upon the single planter set aside for the nineteen year old.
"The forget-me-nots still aren't blooming. Everything else sprouted no problem, but these stupid forget me nots just sit there." Wanda hit the dirt with a trowel as emphasis.
"That's not going to help anything, Wanda. Have you had lunch yet?"
"Huh? Oh, yea, I'm good." The two sat in relative silence with Wanda staring down her forget-me-nots and Ororo idly twirling a branch between her fingers
"Wanda, I have a friend of mine I would like you to meet."
"Um, ok," she said, craning her head in an attempt to see over the plants. "Where are they?"
"He's not here; he lives in New York," Ororo paused. "He's a doctor." The trowel fell from Wanda's hand.
"A what? He's a what?"
"Calm down, Wanda. He's a doctor, his name is Doctor Stephen Strange."
"Strange…Strange! As in Doctor Strange, the Avenger? You know Doctor Strange?"
"Yes, we've know each other for some time. The professor and I agree that lessons with him could greatly improve your control over your powers."
"Wait, I'm…I'm getting kicked out of here?"
"No! No, Wanda, of course not. You would travel to Brooklyn three times a week to study With Stephen. He's would teach you meditation techniques and the proper use of the magic you can control. All of us feel very positive about it, however I told Charles that it was your decision."
"My…my decision to go meet with an Avenger or not? Of course I'm gonna go meet him, It's Doctor fuckin' Strange!"
"Language, Wanda."
"Sorry. So, when do we go? Are you taking me or is the professor, or is Dr. McCoy? Does Dr. McCoy ever leave this place?"
"That is something else we wanted to discuss. Charles and I think that you've shown a great deal of responsibility, working as a member of the team and around the mansion. So, we thought that we would loan you transportation specifically for these lessons," Wanda's face went slack. " I must tell you, Wanda, we would be putting a great deal of trust in you and we would expect you to respect that that trust is not unconditional."
"So I go by myself, but no accidents, no joyriding, that sort of thing," Wanda paused. "Do I have to give you an answer this second?"
"Of course not, but we would like you to let us know by tomorrow. Just tell Charles or myself when you are ready."
"You're going to go, right? Tell me you didn't say no." Tj Royce, Wanda's roommate, hung her head off the foot board and played with a small ziplock baggie.
"I told her I didn't know yet."
"Ugh! You were just told you get a car, like the kind with engines, to just drive to New York city and hang out with an Avenger, An Avenger! They're like the X-men, except people like them. Do you know what I would give to have someone here give me a car and tell me, 'Hey, go hang out with the Avengers.' God, that would be sweet."
"They probably don't because of that baggie in your hand."
"What, this baggie? Wanda, no one here even knows."
"Tj, everyone knows."
"Then why do I still have this little baggie? Xavier doesn't strike me as the type to be toking in his chair," Wanda let out a loud laugh, and Talia jumped from her bed. "See, this why you need me on these trips. Laughter, companionship, plus I'm great arm candy."
"I don't need arm candy!" At this, Talia wrapped her arms around Wanda in a great, exaggerated hug.
"You want me there, admit it! The thought of leaving your poor best friend alone here, while you're in New York having the time of your life-
"Let go of me!"
"-just makes your poor heart break! Bring me with you!"
"Stop hugging me! I will bring you with me if you stop hugging me!" At once, Tj let go, spinning in a lazy circle and dancing.
"Victory goes to I yet again!" She jumped, backwards onto her bed, shooting another grin at Wanda.
"What am I supposed to tell the Professor, or Ms. Munroe? Did that come into play, or do you just take pleasure in that?"
"Tell 'em that you're concerned about the distance you have to travel, and having your best, best friend of three long years there with you will make you feel better. Tell them that I bring joy to you whenever I'm near."
"I think I'll tell them that you touch me at night." Tj stuck out her tongue.
Three Days later…
"You requested to see me, sir."
"Officer Summers, please, sit down. I guess I've got to start calling you Detective now."
"Yes sir, it's a great honor to be able to wear this shield after such a short time on the force."
"Well you'll do well to keep that in mind. I'm putting you with Bishop. He's a lieutenant, lot like you. You'll get along with him."
"Uh, well sir, I had-
"He's at the back of the bullpen, by the lockers. Dismissed, Detective." Scott sat there for a moment, stunned, as his new commanding officer focused on his computer screen. Shaking it off, Scott exited the closet-like office and entered the hive that was the Homicide division bullpen. Behind his glasses, his eyes went from right to left and to right again, until finally, his eyes rested on a man and all at once he knew this was Bishop. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted past his nostrils and he saw an overflowing ashtray despite the department-wide policy on non-smoking buildings.
"Are…are you Bishop?" The pen continued scratching the yellow legal pad.
"Leave any packages at the desk. I'll get them when I leave, like I do every other time."
"Detective Scott Summers, I'm your new partner."
"Partner," He turned and looked Scott up and down.
"You look young. Sure you're not supposed be at middle school?"
"I was considered a good enough officer for a gold shield."
"Give 'em six months and they'll have a vending machine out front with gold shields. Doesn't impress me. You hungry?" He asked, standing up. Even with Scott standing five-foot nine, Bishop towered over him.
"Am I…hungry? What kind of question is that?"
"The yes or no kind. Come on, I know a good breakfast joint, but they're only open until three." Bishop snatched his jacket from the back of his chair and walked toward the elevator. Scott stood for a minute before following, muttering to himself as he went.
"Why are we getting up at this hour? It isn't even light out? We don't need to beat the sun up." Talia tossed a bag at her feet and slid into the leather seat. The motor hummed idle, a nondescript sedan that wouldn't look out of place at any flea market.
"As I recall Talia, you requested to join Wanda, to show support."
"Yea, but I'm just as supportive at noon." Talia muttered, curling into the fetal position on her seat. The professor gave a small smirk and wheeled over to Wanda.
"You have the directions to Dr. Strange's apartment, Wanda?"
"They've been in the glove compartment ever since you gave them to me yesterday." She said with annoyance.
"And you know not to stop at any roadside attractions, no missives-"
"I know all of this. Why are you telling me what I already know?"
"Because it's not you I'm worried about, Wanda." Charles stated with a quick glance toward Talia, still trying to get comfortable.
Scott glared from behind his glasses at his first partner who was shoveling home fries into his mouth.
"Excuse my manners, I didn't a chance to eat 'fore I came in," Bishop said as though reading Scott's mind. He pushed his sausage around with a fork and shot another glance toward his new partner. "You don't talk much, kid."
"I guess…I guess I was expecting the first day to start out…differently."
"Yea, if I had a dollar every time I heard that one. Look, I didn't just drag you here 'cause of the eggs, which, by the way, yours are getting cold. I'm meeting an informant here. Should have been here by now." Bishop tapped his watch before returning to his food.
"Informant…for what?" Bishop shrugged.
"For informing," he said with a mouthful of food, sending bits of potato onto the table. "Kid's been in the underworld about as long as he's been alive, makes him useful to me. He's around your age-shit, there he is." Scott turned in his booth, and his mouth fell agape. There, standing on the curb looking no worse for wear in the three years since their last encounter, was the last person Scott expected to be informing on the police. He couldn't stop the name from rising in his throat, escaping as a whisper.
"Remy?"
Author's Note: Confused? Good. Don't worry, things will be explained. Now leave a review! Please.