When?
By Indiana J: Years from now, Agatha Harkness sets things in motion.
Dr. Agatha Harkness had sent off the letter a month and a half ago and, confident it would find who she was looking for, had settled down to wait. The museum was comfortably quiet these days and she busied herself quite easily. The small part of her that enjoyed the bit of light and magic show had hoped he'd show up on a dark and stormy night. But considering how close he'd been to Wanda, she wasn't surprised when he shown up on a day that was as clear as anyone could hope for.
Of course he'd be contrary.
Agatha decided to meet with him in one of her personal studies in the museum. There was a fireplace but no fire, despite the chill in the air, and she situated herself in an armchair near it.
When he entered, she gestured towards the chair next to hers. "Dr. Strange," Agatha said, nodding her head slowly.
Strange answered the same, staring at her with interest and a little bit of apprehension.
As well he should.
"Dr. Harkness," he returned, seating himself. Gray was spread liberally through his hair and it would seem that he moved with a slight limp these days. "You...summoned me?" He was watching her every movement, it seemed, studying her almost.
Agatha smiled. "Yes, I did. I have something important to task you with."
"Considering your methods and circumstances of bringing me here and what little I have learned since entering your museum, I am not surprised. But, if I may ask, why?" He shook his head, confused. "We have never met."
"No, we have not. But you were close to our Miss Wanda Maximoff, once, were you not?"
Strange started in his seat and it was the only answer that she needed.
"You see her on a professional basis, now and then, I am lead to believe," Agatha continued. "But you wish for more."
He said nothing.
"I know this because I know Wanda and she wishes for more."
Straightening in his seat, he gave her a wary look, fingers drumming on his knee. "I doubt she would have said as such..."
She snorted, laughing under her breath. "My Wanda does not have to say anything, Dr. Strange. I have known and guided her for over two decades. She lives alone, works hard enough to kill a lesser woman and is miserable, though her life is full enough." Now it was her turn to look uncomfortable, turning towards the cold fireplace. "I fear she learned too much from me," Agatha whispered. "After my husband died, I cut myself off from advances and worked myself to death."
The chair creaked as Strange winced.
Turning back, she composed herself once more. "So, being the busy body that I am, I am staging an intervention. Of sorts. I have a number of objects that I wish for you to transport to her for me. Things of great importance, Dr. Strange, and not all personal."
Strange obviously caught on quickly. "You have objects of power? Here?" He frowned and concentrated, sending out feelers of his magic. "Yes, yes you do. This is an interesting museum, Doctor."
"Thank you, I do try."
"I will not argue that I wish...the same as Wanda, only our lives..."
Stomping her foot in irritation, Agatha stared hard at him. "You two are both stiff-necked idiots but I dare not force your hands. Deliver what I ask to her and simply...be yourself. I believe that will be enough."
He smiled, suddenly, a shy and bashful one that deaged him greatly. It was gone in a moment and he was leaning forward now, hands clasped between his knees, once again ever the professional. "May I ask a question?"
"Of course you may," she responded sadly, as if she knew when this was coming.
"When?"
"When what? When did the sky turn blue? When did I start gathering objects of power? When..."
"When did you pass?" Strange interjected quietly and gently.
The ghost of Agatha Harkness gave him a look that she had graced her students with for years. A look of pleasure masked within a look of 'Now did it really have to take you that long to figure it out?' "A few days ago," she confirmed.
"Ah. I was wondering...this place is deserted."
"Before my death, I sent everyone home. No need to raise a fuss."
"...you have just died, Doctor, and there is no reason to raise a fuss?"
She snorted.
"I knew as soon as I saw you, I could not mistake it for anything else," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still, I am astounded at how long you have held on and are still this solid."
"I have - or had - things to accomplish before I could see my dear Arthur once more. There is a journal among my articles and I want Wanda to have it, among other things. The journal and the umbrella. The rest of the items you and she can figure out the best homes for after that."
Slowly, Strange climbed to his feet. "Is there anything I can do for you now?"
Agatha slowly closed her eyes, her tenacious hold on this realm slowly fading. "No, my dear Doctor Strange, there is nothing that I need now..."
He watched the spirit fade slowly, the outline barely visible in the late afternoon light from the windows, until he could no longer see her. The temperature in the room started to climb slowly back from near freezing to almost normal, though he couldn't help but rub his arms to chase away the lingering chill.
"...ah," he said softly, nodding. It wasn't just a matter of delivering her personal affects to Wanda -- Agatha hadn't wanted the news delivered impersonally to someone who'd been like blood to her.
He reached over and scooped up a brown journal from a near by table. There was work to be done here before he could go and though the news was sad...he couldn't help but smile.
This was one task he would be glad to see through.
