DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters, Marvel does, and unfortunately I do not own Judas Priest or the song Angel either. If I did, I'd be living it up with Rob Halford somewhere nice resting on royalty-laurels. You better believe it.

(A quick thank you to the fantastic Laceylou76 who made me want to keep posting this, you're a stand-up dame and if I owned any of this I'd send you flowers. Instead, I send you virtual flowers and my sincerest regards. This update is dedicated to you for being a lovely person.)

~Scarlet Letter ~

The Consequences Of Your Actions.

While a certain Cajun was lurking somewhere in the mall, not dwelling on the mental state of a certain Australian, Wanda and Rogue were being questioned by the guard who seemed to have reached the decision that nothing the young ladies had done had been in any way wrong, which suited them well. In fact, he would personally arrange it so that they would receive mall gift certificates to the sum of 100$ each and that the offending jocks would be banned from the premises for a month. This meant that if they were seen by any guards at the mall they would be removed – forcibly if necessary. This pleased Wanda, and made Rogue a little suspicious, but all the guard would say was, "They never told us how those pyramid things were stopped but I'm pretty sure the government didn't have much to do with it. You're free to go, ladies."

~***************************************************************~

"There they are mate, if y' feel like tailin' 'em fer the rest of the day go right ahead..." John murmured from his perch on the bench where he was surreptitiously cupping a tiny handful of flames.

"Dey look pleased wit demselves," Remy observed, and John shrugged.

"Maybe the guard's a mutant an' he let Wanda have 'er way with those assholes," he suggested, and Remy gave him a sour look.

"Y' kiddin', righ'?"

"She wanted them dead mate, there's no two ways abou' that."

"Y' say it like she'd enjoy it," Remy accused, and John gave him an odd look.

"She would."

~***************************************************************~

Wanda linked arms with Rouge as they continued on their way through the shining halls of modern consumerism, but Rogue couldn't help noticing the stares they were getting and the people who went far out of their way to avoid them. "Wanda... let's go home, huh?"

"Rogue, we didn't do anything wrong and I'm all out of eyeliner. One more stop, then we leave. Pretend they're just staring at your boots." Rogue was a little shaken by the calm in Wanda's voice and the aloof look on her face as she practically steered them into their make-up store of choice. She looked down at her combat boots and smiled a little. Pretend... she could do that.

"Erm.... excuse me?" A youngish blonde woman leading a pale little girl with coal-black bangs by the hand addressed them, and Wanda looked the over. Mother and daughter, most likely. She quelled the familiar pang of envy and said,

"Yes? Can we help you?" The blonde woman smiled nervously and leant in towards them, not noticing that her daughter pulled away from her so as not to be crushed between them.

"I just wanted to say I think you were great down there, teaching those hooligans a lesson. You go girl!" Wanda just stared at her, completely nonplussed.

"I... thank you..." she managed, and the little girl smiled at her.

"I wanna be a mutant too!" she said, beaming, and her mother looked at her proudly.

"We just wanted you to know that not everyone is anti-mutant. Some of us are raising our children right," she said seriously, and the two Goths nodded and smiled and they parted ways with the mother and her child and then sort of stood there in the middle of things, not knowing what to make of what had just happened.

"Well... that was weird... Nice, but weird..." Wanda said quietly, and Rogue nodded.

"Yeah... At least they were nice, right? Could have been a lot worse..." Wanda said nothing, just moved away to browse through the rows and rows of eyeliner before finding the one she wanted and getting two.

"What do you need two for?" Rogue asked when they'd paid in relative silence, and Wanda looked away.

"I don't want to have to come here again for a long time," she mumbled. Rogue caught her arm with hers and pulled out her phone.

"Ah'm callin' Pietro," she said with a certain finality. "He needs to know we're alraght in case any of this shit got leaked." Wanda didn't reply. In fact, she said not another word all the way home, and when they got home and her brother fell about her neck with warnings and words of concern, she just pushed him away and went to her room, not even bidding her friend goodbye.

"What the hell happened Rogue? I know you told me but why's Wanda all... weird?" Pietro asked her, sounding as though he expected her to say that in addition to the incident at the mall, Wanda had just been diagnosed with cancer.

"Ah thank she's just really tired after all that – the people lookin' an' everythang... Think it was a bit much fer her... Jus' give her some space, she'll be fahne. She'll watch a movie, read her new book or somethin' an' it'll go away..." Pietro nodded at her, still looking worried as hell, and she put a hand on his arm to reassure him somewhat.

"She was so controlled back there," she said quietly. "You'd have been proud."

"I'm always proud," he replied, his eyes telling the full truth of it.

"Kitty gone home yet?" Rogue asked in an attempt to loosen up the situation, and Pietro nodded and pointed out back.

"Out there with Lance, waiting to drive you guys home. She'll wanna know everything. See ya – " and he was gone.

~***************************************************************~

Wanda was lying on her bed, about a hundred candles burning around her, the electric lights turned off so that the open book in front of her on the scarlet coverlet was illuminated only by their flickering light. The soft sound of Judas Priest's Angel flowed into her ears, calming her, and she tried to breathe the way Agatha had taught her to regain control over her emotions. She exhaled deeply, then breathed in until she felt her lungs would burst, holding it until she could take another, tiny breath, and then counted to five before exhaling until she felt completely drained of breath, then repeating.

After a few repetitions, she began to feel less agitated and she could allow herself to begin to analyse the incident at the mall. She didn't know why she'd reacted the way she had, why she had tried to control herself. The part of her she privately called the Witch had wanted to lose it. To rage against the injustice, to really hurt someone. Wanda still felt the residual violent desire inside her to harm, to maim and kill and defend herself, but she knew the situation hadn't called for a reaction like that. She'd handled it well – the rational Wanda knew she'd done well and that it could have ended really badly, but that other voice in her head that had been her only companion all those long years in the asylum was telling her it could have ended so much more gloriously. That it could have been so much more painful – could have been more gratifying.

To walk away from the battlefield bloodied but alive was better than to get up from the negotiating table and feel unsatisfied. 'I know we'll find a better place and peace of mind, just tell me that it's all you want for you and me... Angel won't you set me free?' Humming quietly, she turned her attention to the open book and allowed the fictional world he'd penned to envelop her, the warmth of the land he was describing through his words so real she could feel it.

When her brother came to see if she'd like a little late dinner, he found his sister asleep, arms spread out like wings over the book that lay open at the final pages, text slightly smeared by droplets of moisture. He laid the coverlet across her legs and let the candles burn, humming the last passage of the song, watching her before he closed the door to let her rest.