Post by amieva on Jun 26, 2005 10:34:42 GMT -4
Unnoticed
Rated PG-13
Published Oct 17 2004 on fanfiction.net
This is a one-shot I wrote a while ago, when I was going through my ginormous JONDA-obsessing stage. It recieved some... mixed reviews on that site
She hated his job. She hated the moving, the long hours, the stress, the lack of attention. She hated that he was enslaved by his muses.
She hated that it seemed they were more important to him than she was.
Wanda hung her coat in the closet and kicked her boots off. The soothing scent of burning candles wafted from the office of their small, two-bedroom apartment. She regarded the narrow hallway sadly. He was still working. She could slip into bed, and he wouldn't notice that she was home so late. I'll show him, she thought bitterly, I'll sleep in the spare room, and if he wants to talk to me, he can come looking for me!
Honestly, Wanda knew that John loved her. He had even once or twice admitted to it, after she forced it out of him. But sometimes it was hard to believe that he even realized she existed. This was one of those times.
Wanda hadn't been feeling well for the past couple weeks. She tried everything from pain-killers, to yoga, to steaming hot baths. Finally unable to tolerate this further, Wanda decided it was time to see a doctor.
Her alarm hadn't gone off yet, and Wanda stirred, feeling suddenly nauseaus. She fought the churning in her stomach for as long as she could, before it became unbearable. She sprang out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where she immediately vomitted. Several heaves later, most if which were dry and painful, Wanda flushed the toilet and staggered to get to her feet. Her throat was raw and scratchy from the stomach acid making its way backwards through the system. Wanda's face was beaded in a cold, clammy sweat. She regarded herself in the mirror in disgust. She looked hideous! Her hair was messy, she had bags under her dark blue eyes. Her appearance made her want to vomit again.
After a quick shower, Wanda dressed in comfortable clothes and wandered out to the livingroom to lay down. The curtains were drawn on the glass balcony door to hold some of the heat inside the apartment. It was still dark out. It was mid-November, so the sun wouldn't rise for a few hours. Wanda pulled a deep-green comforter closer around her neck and snuggled into the couch. She felt oddly content, despite being alone and having just emptied her stomach of anything remotely resembling fluid. Perhaps she'd try to eat later.
Alone. Wanda had been the only one in bed when she set out on her journey to the porcelain throne. John was probably asleep at his desk again. That annoyed her, but she didn't think he got the message. This new story of his was his precious, his baby, so it earned more attention lately than she did. He only seemed to emerge to eat, go to the washroom, and occasionally bathe.
Wanda sighed and looked down at her hands. She sat alone, on the bed in the spare room, and mulled over the events of her day.
Her first thoughts were to go to the hospital. But they'd want blood tests, and probably cause too much trouble. Wanda didn't want the Mutant Peaceful Enforcment Officers breathing down her neck. So, she decided to visit the last place she felt welcome - Xavier's.
Hank McCoy was a friendly man. He made sure that Wanda felt comfortable before he began asking her questions.
"So, Miss. Maximoff, how long have you had these symptoms?" he asked as he took her blood pressure.
Wanda shrugged. "A week or so, I think." she answered, watching the needle on the gage twitch back and fourth. "Do you think it's a stomach virus?"
Hank chuckled, taking a few notes on a clipboard. He unfastened the device from Wanda's arm and began pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. "It's a possibility. Does John know you're here?"
She shook her head. "Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He's been so lost in that damn plot of his, I've been pushed to the back burner, so to speak." she scowled. "I doubt he's even noticed I'm gone."
"It's part of being an artist, Wanda." Hank said reassuringly. "Even as a scientist, I get lost in my work. Sometimes, Ororo or Logan have to come to the lab and remind me to eat. When was your last menstral emission?"
"I don't remember. It's always been irregular. Maybe a month and a half ago?" she watched as Hank nodded and jotted down a few more notes on his clipboard. "Fascinating." he muttered.
"Last time I tried talking to him about it, he accused me of being unsupportive of his work! I AM supportive! He even referred to me as his greatest source of inspiration once. I guess he was caught up in the moment," she scoffed, "or lying."
Hank smiled knowingly after reading over his notes, and the results of his tests. "Relationships are an interesting aspect of life, Wanda. There are ups and downs, but the important thing to remember is to respect and share with your partner." He had a glimmer in his yellow eyes as he looked up from his clipboard to Wanda. "Well, the good news is, you're not afflicted with a stomach ailment..."
Wanda had a lot of time to think on the way back from New York. She had even missed her stop once, because she wasn't able to pay attention to her surroundings. She absentmindedly ran a hand over her stomach. She wondered to herself what this meant for her and John and their relationship. They weren't married, or even planned for anything like this. How would he react when he found out? Hank had recomended telling him right away, but that was the last thing Wanda felt like doing. She lay back on the bed and stared at the white ceiling.
A woman on the subway chattered away with the woman beside her. Wanda couldn't help but overhear their conversation.
"So, what's it like? I'm scared about the pain." asked the first woman anxiously. She had a slender, delicate look about her, despite her swollen belly.
The second woman held a sleeping infant in her arms. "Oh, it's horrible. I don't think anything hurts quite as much. But it's all worth it." she looked adoringly at her baby. "My husband and I had been trying for five years, and we were finally blessed with this miracle."
"I can't wait until I finally get to meet her." The extremely pregnant woman sighed and lightly stroked the baby's soft brown hair. "My boyfriend is really excited. He's already renovated the den and turned it into a nursery." she smiled. "We're getting married after the birth. I told him I didn't want to look like a watermelon in our wedding photos."
"It's wonderful to have a supportive partner. I'd be lost without Eddie around."
Wanda turned her head away and looked out the window. She didn't want to hear anymore.
When Wanda woke up the next morning, she burst out of the spare room and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Hank had said this symptom would go away soon. She hoped so. It was disgusting.
She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth thouroughly to rid herself of the acidic taste. She wore the same clothes she had put on before travelling to New York, excluding her black blazer. Wanda stared at herself in the mirror. She lifted her crimson blouse and inspected her navel. It was sticking out a little further than usual. She let the silky fabric fall back into place before heading to the bedroom to change.
She tossed a pair of panties, a tanktop, and pajama-pants onto the bed before noticing that there was someone leaning against the doorframe with their arms crossed. She needent look up to know who it was. She proceeded to change out of her old clothes.
"Where were ya?" John asked skeptically.
Wanda pulled on the pajama-pants with her back to him. "I slept in the other room last night." she answered honestly with no emotion in her tone.
"I meant where were ya yesterday, Wanda." he asked a little more annoyed than before. He pushed off the doorframe and approached her in a predatory way. "You buggered off, and didn't even bother to tell me!"
Wanda scowled at the floor as she smoothed down the front of her top, brushing her hands over her stomach a moment longer than necessary. "I'm an adult, John. I don't need to report to you if I decide to step out."
"Step out?!" John shouted. "You were gone the whole bloody day, Wanda! I was worried some pervert snatched you and left you bloody and mutilated in some hole somewhere!"
Wanda finally rounded on him. "Oh, like you cared that much! Nice to know you finally noticed I live here too, Pyro!" she snapped.
"And what's that supposed to mean?!"
All the pent up frustration inside Wanda was prepared to be unleashed. "For the past month, I've gone to bed alone, and woken up alone! I hardly ever see you! You've spoken like, two words to me in the past week, which, might I add, has been a living HELL for me!"
John glared venomously at his lover/roommate/muse. "Oh, so you left to teach me a lesson! And I suppose this hell is all my fault, is it?!"
"PARTIALLY, YES!!!" Wanda screamed back and stamped her foot against the carpet. "It IS your fault!" her voice cracked slightly, "but it's my fault too."
John waited impatiently for a further explaination. "Ya mind elaboratin' on that, love." he spat.
Wanda's eyes were full of boiling rage and undescribable hurt. "Don't you fucking talk to me right now." she hissed. She pushed past him and stormed into the bathroom, feeling another wave of nausea coming on.
John wasn't finished arguing with her. He followed her to the bathroom and watched in horror as she heaved her guts and deposited its contents into the toilet. His eyes were suddenly wide and frightened. "Wanda?! Wanda, what's wrong?!" he knelt down and pulled her from the tiled floor. "God, I'm sorry for yelling! I'm not that angry, honest." he stammered desperately while smoothing her long, raven hair back. "You ain't sick, are ya? I'm so sorry, love-"
She swallowed painfully with her eyes clenched shut. "I'm not sick, John." she croaked. "I thought I was..." John pulled her into an embrace and cradled her head against his chest. "I was just so angry, I didn't want to talk to you."
"I'm an arse, I get it."
Wanda smiled a little against his shirt. "I went to New York." she admitted.
John looked down at the top of her head in confusion. "That's hours away, love. What the hell did you need to go to New York for?"
She sighed, trying to figure out how she was going to break this to him. "I... I went to Xavier's."
He pulled her away a little and gave her a look of disbelief. "Yeah, and me and Pietro are best mates." he laughed.
"I didn't expect you to believe me." Wanda pushed him back and crossed her arms defiantly. "I went and saw Dr. McCoy, alright!" she shouted. "I didn't trust the clinic here."
John put up his hands defensively. "Okay, I gotcha! So, what'd the doc say? Flu? Stomach virus? Food poisoning?"
Wanda frowned and shook her head as she turned and looked away. "I already TOLD you, John. I'm NOT sick!"
"Well, then what the hell is wrong, Wanda?!"
"John, I'm-" she looked up at him and saw the anger in his face. She had second thoughts about her declaration. "I'm not talking to you right now!"
And with that, Wanda went back to their bedroom and slammed the door behind her. John spent the next few hours in the livingroom. He smoked a cigarette and watched the clouds form around his head and disperse in the air. He had gotten into the habit of doing this when Wanda was in one of her 'moods'. Eventually, she'd simmer down enough to talk to him again. However, this fit had already lasted longer than usual. John was getting worried. He stabbed his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray on the endtable and stood from his leather armchair. He knocked lightly on their bedroom door to check if she was ready yet. No answer came, except the sound of soft sniffles.
Carefully, John turned the knob and pushed to door open. Wanda was curled up on their bed with a box of tissues next to her shoulder, and a pile of crumpled ones scattered on the floor and all around her. "Love? You alright?"
She let out a rattled breath and nodded slowly. "You were smoking." she stated quietly.
He lifted an eyebrow at her comment. "Yeah, I do that from time to time, Wanda. You don't have a problem with it, remember?"
"You have to quit smoking inside the apartment, and around me." she said, even more cryptically.
John came in and sat on the end of the bed. "Whatever you say, love." he replied. He was more than a little confused by her behaviour. He placed a hand on her ankle and gently rubbed it with his thumb. "You mind telling me what's wrong?"
Wanda very slowly sat up. Her eyes and nose were red, and John could see the stains on her cheeks from her crying. "I didn't want to tell you. It's just so fucking complicated now, John." she shook her head and took his hand in hers. "Hank told me to tell you right away... but I was so mad then, I didn't... Then we were fighting, and... I'm scared for fuck's sakes!"
He shushed her and rubbed her cheek with his free hand. "It's alright, love. It's stress. Now, tell me why you're so scared."
Wanda stared at him for a long time. The words were on her lips, just waiting to be said, but she was afraid of letting them out. Once she told him, it would confirm it to be true. It would become reality, as if by some kind of magic, or a result of her unpredictable powers. "Promise me you won't leave me behind." she whispered.
"Done."
"John, I'm-"
Rated PG-13
Published Oct 17 2004 on fanfiction.net
This is a one-shot I wrote a while ago, when I was going through my ginormous JONDA-obsessing stage. It recieved some... mixed reviews on that site
She hated his job. She hated the moving, the long hours, the stress, the lack of attention. She hated that he was enslaved by his muses.
She hated that it seemed they were more important to him than she was.
Wanda hung her coat in the closet and kicked her boots off. The soothing scent of burning candles wafted from the office of their small, two-bedroom apartment. She regarded the narrow hallway sadly. He was still working. She could slip into bed, and he wouldn't notice that she was home so late. I'll show him, she thought bitterly, I'll sleep in the spare room, and if he wants to talk to me, he can come looking for me!
Honestly, Wanda knew that John loved her. He had even once or twice admitted to it, after she forced it out of him. But sometimes it was hard to believe that he even realized she existed. This was one of those times.
Wanda hadn't been feeling well for the past couple weeks. She tried everything from pain-killers, to yoga, to steaming hot baths. Finally unable to tolerate this further, Wanda decided it was time to see a doctor.
Her alarm hadn't gone off yet, and Wanda stirred, feeling suddenly nauseaus. She fought the churning in her stomach for as long as she could, before it became unbearable. She sprang out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where she immediately vomitted. Several heaves later, most if which were dry and painful, Wanda flushed the toilet and staggered to get to her feet. Her throat was raw and scratchy from the stomach acid making its way backwards through the system. Wanda's face was beaded in a cold, clammy sweat. She regarded herself in the mirror in disgust. She looked hideous! Her hair was messy, she had bags under her dark blue eyes. Her appearance made her want to vomit again.
After a quick shower, Wanda dressed in comfortable clothes and wandered out to the livingroom to lay down. The curtains were drawn on the glass balcony door to hold some of the heat inside the apartment. It was still dark out. It was mid-November, so the sun wouldn't rise for a few hours. Wanda pulled a deep-green comforter closer around her neck and snuggled into the couch. She felt oddly content, despite being alone and having just emptied her stomach of anything remotely resembling fluid. Perhaps she'd try to eat later.
Alone. Wanda had been the only one in bed when she set out on her journey to the porcelain throne. John was probably asleep at his desk again. That annoyed her, but she didn't think he got the message. This new story of his was his precious, his baby, so it earned more attention lately than she did. He only seemed to emerge to eat, go to the washroom, and occasionally bathe.
Wanda sighed and looked down at her hands. She sat alone, on the bed in the spare room, and mulled over the events of her day.
Her first thoughts were to go to the hospital. But they'd want blood tests, and probably cause too much trouble. Wanda didn't want the Mutant Peaceful Enforcment Officers breathing down her neck. So, she decided to visit the last place she felt welcome - Xavier's.
Hank McCoy was a friendly man. He made sure that Wanda felt comfortable before he began asking her questions.
"So, Miss. Maximoff, how long have you had these symptoms?" he asked as he took her blood pressure.
Wanda shrugged. "A week or so, I think." she answered, watching the needle on the gage twitch back and fourth. "Do you think it's a stomach virus?"
Hank chuckled, taking a few notes on a clipboard. He unfastened the device from Wanda's arm and began pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. "It's a possibility. Does John know you're here?"
She shook her head. "Even if he did, it wouldn't matter. He's been so lost in that damn plot of his, I've been pushed to the back burner, so to speak." she scowled. "I doubt he's even noticed I'm gone."
"It's part of being an artist, Wanda." Hank said reassuringly. "Even as a scientist, I get lost in my work. Sometimes, Ororo or Logan have to come to the lab and remind me to eat. When was your last menstral emission?"
"I don't remember. It's always been irregular. Maybe a month and a half ago?" she watched as Hank nodded and jotted down a few more notes on his clipboard. "Fascinating." he muttered.
"Last time I tried talking to him about it, he accused me of being unsupportive of his work! I AM supportive! He even referred to me as his greatest source of inspiration once. I guess he was caught up in the moment," she scoffed, "or lying."
Hank smiled knowingly after reading over his notes, and the results of his tests. "Relationships are an interesting aspect of life, Wanda. There are ups and downs, but the important thing to remember is to respect and share with your partner." He had a glimmer in his yellow eyes as he looked up from his clipboard to Wanda. "Well, the good news is, you're not afflicted with a stomach ailment..."
Wanda had a lot of time to think on the way back from New York. She had even missed her stop once, because she wasn't able to pay attention to her surroundings. She absentmindedly ran a hand over her stomach. She wondered to herself what this meant for her and John and their relationship. They weren't married, or even planned for anything like this. How would he react when he found out? Hank had recomended telling him right away, but that was the last thing Wanda felt like doing. She lay back on the bed and stared at the white ceiling.
A woman on the subway chattered away with the woman beside her. Wanda couldn't help but overhear their conversation.
"So, what's it like? I'm scared about the pain." asked the first woman anxiously. She had a slender, delicate look about her, despite her swollen belly.
The second woman held a sleeping infant in her arms. "Oh, it's horrible. I don't think anything hurts quite as much. But it's all worth it." she looked adoringly at her baby. "My husband and I had been trying for five years, and we were finally blessed with this miracle."
"I can't wait until I finally get to meet her." The extremely pregnant woman sighed and lightly stroked the baby's soft brown hair. "My boyfriend is really excited. He's already renovated the den and turned it into a nursery." she smiled. "We're getting married after the birth. I told him I didn't want to look like a watermelon in our wedding photos."
"It's wonderful to have a supportive partner. I'd be lost without Eddie around."
Wanda turned her head away and looked out the window. She didn't want to hear anymore.
When Wanda woke up the next morning, she burst out of the spare room and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Hank had said this symptom would go away soon. She hoped so. It was disgusting.
She brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth thouroughly to rid herself of the acidic taste. She wore the same clothes she had put on before travelling to New York, excluding her black blazer. Wanda stared at herself in the mirror. She lifted her crimson blouse and inspected her navel. It was sticking out a little further than usual. She let the silky fabric fall back into place before heading to the bedroom to change.
She tossed a pair of panties, a tanktop, and pajama-pants onto the bed before noticing that there was someone leaning against the doorframe with their arms crossed. She needent look up to know who it was. She proceeded to change out of her old clothes.
"Where were ya?" John asked skeptically.
Wanda pulled on the pajama-pants with her back to him. "I slept in the other room last night." she answered honestly with no emotion in her tone.
"I meant where were ya yesterday, Wanda." he asked a little more annoyed than before. He pushed off the doorframe and approached her in a predatory way. "You buggered off, and didn't even bother to tell me!"
Wanda scowled at the floor as she smoothed down the front of her top, brushing her hands over her stomach a moment longer than necessary. "I'm an adult, John. I don't need to report to you if I decide to step out."
"Step out?!" John shouted. "You were gone the whole bloody day, Wanda! I was worried some pervert snatched you and left you bloody and mutilated in some hole somewhere!"
Wanda finally rounded on him. "Oh, like you cared that much! Nice to know you finally noticed I live here too, Pyro!" she snapped.
"And what's that supposed to mean?!"
All the pent up frustration inside Wanda was prepared to be unleashed. "For the past month, I've gone to bed alone, and woken up alone! I hardly ever see you! You've spoken like, two words to me in the past week, which, might I add, has been a living HELL for me!"
John glared venomously at his lover/roommate/muse. "Oh, so you left to teach me a lesson! And I suppose this hell is all my fault, is it?!"
"PARTIALLY, YES!!!" Wanda screamed back and stamped her foot against the carpet. "It IS your fault!" her voice cracked slightly, "but it's my fault too."
John waited impatiently for a further explaination. "Ya mind elaboratin' on that, love." he spat.
Wanda's eyes were full of boiling rage and undescribable hurt. "Don't you fucking talk to me right now." she hissed. She pushed past him and stormed into the bathroom, feeling another wave of nausea coming on.
John wasn't finished arguing with her. He followed her to the bathroom and watched in horror as she heaved her guts and deposited its contents into the toilet. His eyes were suddenly wide and frightened. "Wanda?! Wanda, what's wrong?!" he knelt down and pulled her from the tiled floor. "God, I'm sorry for yelling! I'm not that angry, honest." he stammered desperately while smoothing her long, raven hair back. "You ain't sick, are ya? I'm so sorry, love-"
She swallowed painfully with her eyes clenched shut. "I'm not sick, John." she croaked. "I thought I was..." John pulled her into an embrace and cradled her head against his chest. "I was just so angry, I didn't want to talk to you."
"I'm an arse, I get it."
Wanda smiled a little against his shirt. "I went to New York." she admitted.
John looked down at the top of her head in confusion. "That's hours away, love. What the hell did you need to go to New York for?"
She sighed, trying to figure out how she was going to break this to him. "I... I went to Xavier's."
He pulled her away a little and gave her a look of disbelief. "Yeah, and me and Pietro are best mates." he laughed.
"I didn't expect you to believe me." Wanda pushed him back and crossed her arms defiantly. "I went and saw Dr. McCoy, alright!" she shouted. "I didn't trust the clinic here."
John put up his hands defensively. "Okay, I gotcha! So, what'd the doc say? Flu? Stomach virus? Food poisoning?"
Wanda frowned and shook her head as she turned and looked away. "I already TOLD you, John. I'm NOT sick!"
"Well, then what the hell is wrong, Wanda?!"
"John, I'm-" she looked up at him and saw the anger in his face. She had second thoughts about her declaration. "I'm not talking to you right now!"
And with that, Wanda went back to their bedroom and slammed the door behind her. John spent the next few hours in the livingroom. He smoked a cigarette and watched the clouds form around his head and disperse in the air. He had gotten into the habit of doing this when Wanda was in one of her 'moods'. Eventually, she'd simmer down enough to talk to him again. However, this fit had already lasted longer than usual. John was getting worried. He stabbed his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray on the endtable and stood from his leather armchair. He knocked lightly on their bedroom door to check if she was ready yet. No answer came, except the sound of soft sniffles.
Carefully, John turned the knob and pushed to door open. Wanda was curled up on their bed with a box of tissues next to her shoulder, and a pile of crumpled ones scattered on the floor and all around her. "Love? You alright?"
She let out a rattled breath and nodded slowly. "You were smoking." she stated quietly.
He lifted an eyebrow at her comment. "Yeah, I do that from time to time, Wanda. You don't have a problem with it, remember?"
"You have to quit smoking inside the apartment, and around me." she said, even more cryptically.
John came in and sat on the end of the bed. "Whatever you say, love." he replied. He was more than a little confused by her behaviour. He placed a hand on her ankle and gently rubbed it with his thumb. "You mind telling me what's wrong?"
Wanda very slowly sat up. Her eyes and nose were red, and John could see the stains on her cheeks from her crying. "I didn't want to tell you. It's just so fucking complicated now, John." she shook her head and took his hand in hers. "Hank told me to tell you right away... but I was so mad then, I didn't... Then we were fighting, and... I'm scared for fuck's sakes!"
He shushed her and rubbed her cheek with his free hand. "It's alright, love. It's stress. Now, tell me why you're so scared."
Wanda stared at him for a long time. The words were on her lips, just waiting to be said, but she was afraid of letting them out. Once she told him, it would confirm it to be true. It would become reality, as if by some kind of magic, or a result of her unpredictable powers. "Promise me you won't leave me behind." she whispered.
"Done."
"John, I'm-"