"Growing Around Grief"

And then she was whisked through a portal into another universe by an impulsive teenager from whom she really should have seen this coming. Despite the years between now and the last time she heard his voice, her brother's favorite quip seemed to play loudly in her head... "You didn't see that coming."

No, Pi, I most certainly did not.

"America!" Wanda exclaimed, half in shock and surprise and half in a why did you do this?! sort of way. She looked around, worried about impending danger from... wherever and whoever, since she had no idea where they were. Not for herself, but if anything happened to America, she knew she'd be blamed for it. Not to mention that she just didn't want anything to happen to the girl because she didn't deserve it. "Oh no..." she whispered as he breathing increased. How was she going to explain any of this to Stephen?

America seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because the next words out of her mouth were regarding the chances of Stephen knowing what had just happened. "I-I don't know..." Wanda said, her hand finding her forehead as she looked around in distress. "I'm not sure what the triggers for his wards are. If they... If they, um... If it's my magic specifically, then... maybe not, but... if it's just... me leaving the space of that room, then... then..." She had to stop talking because it was hard to talk while you were hyperventilating.

Clothes. Clothes? What? The words took a while to register. "What?" Wanda asked breathlessly before she finally looked down at herself. "Oh. Yeah, I... Well I thought I was going to be..." she said, pointing back to where the portal had been. It was gone now. "But I... We... Yeah, I'll... let me, um..." she stammered, shaking her head and closing her eyes for a minute to regain her composure before a flourish of her hands sent a wave of magic over her body, transforming the towel into a t-shirt and jeans. "America... where are we?" she then asked, wondering more importantly, "How do we get back?"

- - - - - -

"Wanda? Hello?" Stephen called, his growing impatience making his hands twitch a little. "Okay, enough of this," he mumbled, opening the door. "Wanda?" he asked, but didn't receive a response. Something... didn't feel right. "Wanda, are you here?" She better be, he thought, worry already setting in. He went through every room of the apartment, searching for her. Once it was clear that the witch, in fact, was not here at all, worry turned into panic.

Stephen turned and left, wondering all the way to America's room how none of his wards had been tripped. How could he have fucked this up? How could he have been so stupid? No, it's alright, it's not what it seems, there's a logical explanation for it and America is going to be right where she should be. Knocking on her door, Stephen tried to ignore how tight his chest felt all of the sudden. "America? Open up, it's important." No response. No... "America!" Still no response. No, please...

Barging into her room, Stephen searched it with all the urgency of someone whose clothes were on fire before determining... she wasn't there. Wanda's gone, America's gone too, this is on you. You should never have trusted Wanda. How could you be so gullible?! America's just a child and she depended on you! His teeth clenched so tightly his jaw popped and he turned to slam his hand against the door frame, sending shooting pain through his damaged hand and up his arm.

"Shit!!"

America glances around the new universe in which she's planted them. It doesn't look particularly scary or threatening or anything like that. There's a lot of...trees? Really, really big trees? So they're probably in a forest? But if she knows anything about the multiverse, it's that if they keep walking long enough, they'll end up in a city at some point.

Or a town.

Or a village.

Or maybe even just a collection of huts. With people who speak some sort of language she doesn't always know, but she's gotten pretty good at figuring out how to words things to learn what she needs to know. Not necessarily picking up languages so much as picking up vibes.

She doesn't think that's related to her powers at all. Sure, yes, punching things is its own unique language, but that's, like, a different thing.

"I don't really know where we are?" America gives the witch a sheepish sort of smile. Not embarrassed, because she's not that, but maybe, uh, a little awkward. Because this is maybe awkward?

Still.

America shrugs and starts off in one direction. It doesn't matter which direction, just so long as it's a direction. "We can find out! Let's explore!"

As for how to get back....

She's just.

She's just gonna keep that one to herself for now.

(Because something tells her that if she tells the witch they can just pop back through another portal and end up in the same spot where they left, she'd just tell her to take them back, and like. That's no fun. No fun at all!)

....

She turned back to the door, eyes still wide. "Um... is it important?" she called. "I'm..." She had to think fast. "I'm in a towel." A snap of her fingers made that suddenly not a lie, and another snap made her now-wet hair twisted up in one too.

"Uhhh... oh," Stephen said awkwardly. Just my luck. "It-... Yeah, it kinda is. I can wait. Or, you know... I don't have any problems with towels." You don't... have any problems... with towels?! Wtf is wrong with you?! "I-I didn't... mean that the way it... probably sounded..." He facepalmed.

Not that America has been around enough adults to know that.

But she knows looking at something and wanting it. She's looked at a lot of things and wanted it, and she knew before asking that the witch wanted to go...well, not necessarily wherever they'll end up, but somewhere else for something else, and. well.

America kind of waits for the response before grabbing the witch's wrist (and then definitely is not looking at the response once she's just in a towel; that is so not fair (and America is NOT having that discussion with her. EVER. because first she would have to have that discussion with herself, and she'll never admit it)), so she kind of sees the really shouldn't but definitely doesn't see the shaking of her head, and just. grabs her wrist, gives a sharp tug, and pulls her through the portal with her.

It's only on landing on the other side that America thinks this through a little more.

"Shit, that's not, uh. That's not going to set off any of those alarms, is it? I mean, you didn't use magic to leave, so you should still be fine, right?"

Probably not the person America should be having this conversation with, if she's honest with herself, but who else does she have to talk with? Wong? (Actually not a bad option, but he's been tied up in some sort of legal stuff recently. Which she only knows because she walked in on him on the phone with some lawyer. Also that weird drunk girl he keeps seeing that TV show with. Better option, but not available.)

...on second thought, considering why she'd had that argument, this is absolutely the worst person to have this conversation with. America just hasn't realized that...yet.

@multiversalstarlight

"No he doesn't," Wanda said, her brow immediately wrinkling with concern as she shook her head. "And I would give him time." Why? This was difficult for her to say. "He's... been through a lot lately. You all have." Because of you. That went without saying. Wanda swallowed hard. "Believe me, America... if Stephen hates anyone here, it's me."

But America needed to say it. Just to hear it.

America swings her legs, kicks at the floor. If there were rocks, she'd kick them instead. It would be more fun. Kicking the floor kind of hurts.

"No," she lies, face contorting into a scowl. "He didn't say anything. I just could kind of feel it."

Maybe hate is the wrong word. Tired of. Frustrated with. Annoyed by. Like having only so much patience and so much time for any given day, and she takes up too much of it. Or only so much patience for any given person, and she's reaching the end of the rope.