Before she opened the door she realized something had changed. The door handle wasn’t loose in her hand. Wanda readjusted her grip on it, opened it, and went inside. Setting her purse by the door, she turned to close and lock it.

That was when she noticed the second new thing. The lock worked without having to kick it into the doorjamb. Her first thought was that Toad must have fixed it. She looked closer. The vertical crack running through the middle of the door had been sealed as well.

“Toad?” She turned around and called, but heard no movement or response. Wanda walked to the end of the hallway and glanced down its length. The bathroom and her bedroom door both stood open and undisturbed. He wasn’t in the kitchen either.

Thinking that he’d probably gone out, she stepped up into the hallway and went to her room. She took her shoes off at her bed and let down her hair. It smelled like grease. So did her uniform. So did her skin. Her body ached, and she wanted little more than to go to sleep, early as it was. But she left her room and went to turn on the shower in the bathroom.

The water had not turned warm before she heard the front door open and close again. Toad, she knew. She’d given him her spare key before she left that morning. She reached into the shower and let the water run over her hand. Still cold. As soon as it turned lukewarm she’d get in and start washing away the smell of fried food.

The floorboards in the hall creaked. Wanda sighed. She just wanted a few moments of peace in the shower.

“Wanda?” Toad’s timid voice came through the bathroom door. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” she replied, drying her hand on her uniform.

“Want me to make somethin’?”

“Go ahead.” She listened to the loose floorboards warp under his weight as he headed back to the kitchen. Wanda held her fingers under the running water again. Satisfied with the temperature, she shelled herself of her clothes and stepped under the shower head. Pulling the curtain closed, she let the water work her hair out of its ragged formation. Water that was hot enough to produce steam would have been nice. But for the moment, she welcomed just the massaging spray.

- - -

When Wanda opened the bathroom door, she was confronted with the burning smell of the stove. It needed to be cleaned, but she had used it once since she’d moved in. Wrapped in a fraying towel and carrying her filthy clothes in her arms, Wanda went to her bedroom to dress. It was ten degrees colder in her room than the rest of the house, as her window still didn’t close properly. She dressed quickly and went out to the living room with a book that a co-worker had given her. She turned the light switch on and, surprised, looked up. The light fixture had both bulbs instead of one.

“You replaced the bulb?” she said to the kitchen.

“Yeah, while you were out.” Toad replied.

Wanda walked into the kitchen. “I noticed the door, as well,” she said.

“Yeah, only took a minute or so.”

“Thank you.”

“S’ no big deal.”

Wanda went back to the living room and sat down in the metal folding chair with her book. If nothing else, her life was routine. If it lacked bells and whistles, she at least knew it was real. If she still felt its pain, then she knew she was awake.

The smell of food began to overpower the smell of the burning food particles left in the stove. Of course, she acknowledged, glancing over to the bills on the table, routine didn’t mean stability. Wanda had started to believe that stability was an unreal thing. Places changed, morals changed, people changed and died. If none of these could be counted on, what then was stability comprised of?

Wanda shook her head. She needed to stop puzzling over the mysteries of the universe. She’d only lead herself into confusion or depression. She opened her book. It was no good to think too deeply about issues she didn’t understand. And she had to admit she didn’t understand a lot of what she once thought she understood. So for now, all she could do was live each day as it came to her. Maybe, after a while, she’d be able to think about things again, and even work a few things out. But at this moment, she had a house, a roommate, a job, and food.

Well, at least she had a house for a little while longer. Wanda looked again at the bills. They were still neatly sealed in their envelopes. Of course, things might not be so bad with Toad living with her. He’d already bought food and lightbulbs. She didn’t know where his money came from, but as long as he was willing to share it with her, she didn’t ask.

Giving in to temptation, she set her book on the floor and reached for the bills. The rent and utilities opened easily under her fingernail. As expected, the figure was as high as ever.

“Need a bit of help with that?”

Wanda looked over her shoulder at Toad. “I can’t afford this apartment much longer,” she said.

Toad set the serving plate down on the coffee table. “I’m more than willing to pull my own weight. I’ll pay you rent.”

“I suppose.”

“How’s your job?”

“It’s ... a job. It’s not very bad.” Wanda took a roll of bills from her pocket. “It’s a busy place; I made $60 in tips my second day.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“No, it’s not. I think this might work out.”

“You should eat this before it gets cold,” he said.

Wanda set the stack of letters on top of her book and sat down to the table on the floor.

Surprisingly, Mortimer could actually cook.

- - -

Today Dr. Strange made his way from his sanctum in New York to Wanda Maximoff’s small apartment in Philadelphia. Since the day she’d come out of her cloud of misery on Genosha and moved back to the United States, Dr. Strange had made a point of checking in on her as often as she would allow. It had been against his wishes to let her leave Genosha and live on her own, but he’d little choice or say in the matter once Magneto made his decision.

On such visits as the one he made today, Stephen tried to get as much information from Wanda as possible. Did she still have flashbacks? Were her nightmares still so vivid? How often did she make it through the day without shutting herself in her room to cry? His job was not easy. Wanda, if she didn’t ignore him outright, often avoided his questions or changed the subject. She had yet to bring up the subject of her former children or the Avengers, and Stephen knew better than to ask.

To his concern, he hadn’t seen her for more than two weeks, due to the unpredictable nature of defending the universe against any mystic threats. On his way there, his mind wandered incessantly to the little apartment and to what Wanda might be doing. In his darker thoughts, there was always the premonition that he would someday find her body in the bathroom with her wrists cut open. When things didn’t get better, they got worse, and things were not getting better with Wanda.

In his youth, if he had a patient he could not cure, it didn’t bother him. If Dr. Strange couldn’t help someone, help was beyond the scope of human technology. Now, however, he felt the same feelings no healer could ignore. His broken patient seemed beyond all hope of recovery. The youthful, proud Wanda Maximoff had somewhere disappeared, leaving behind a lifeless doll. As he walked down her street, he knew that the greatest reason he still came to see her every week was to see whether he’d find her bleeding in the bathtub or hanging from the ceiling.

Cloaked in an illusion of normality, Dr. Stephen Strange passed several of the city’s poorest on his way up to Wanda’s apartment. It was to his immeasurable surprise that someone else answered the door, and it was someone he knew at that. Mortimer Toynbee: The Toad.

“I take it you’re Doctor Strange?” he said.

“I am ... Is Wanda here?” Scores of possible scenarios concerning the presence of Toad were racing through his mind.

“No. She’s out. But she said you might stop by, and she told me to let you in. She’ll be back soon.”

Stephen stepped inside the apartment. “Toad, I’m rather surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you and Wanda were on good terms.”

Toad glared at him. “What do you mean by that?

“Nothing offensive. Could you tell me where Wanda is?”

Toad looked like he had taken offense. “She’s out working.” Toad shut the door. Dr. Strange stood by the chair and noticed the folded blanket on the couch.

“I didn’t know she had a job.”

“Got it a few days ago. She should be back soon.”

Wanda arrived shortly, relieving the two of there uncomfortable silence, apologizing for being late. Toad went outside.

- - -

Slowly, Wanda poured the steaming water over the tea bag and into the cup. The water colored instantly. She placed the kettle back on the stove and carried the two small teacups and saucers out to her humble livingroom. Dr. Strange sat on the couch, his composed demeanor demanding more focus than his remarkable attire. Wanda set the nicer of the two cups down in front of him, seating herself on the folding chair.

“You look much better, Wanda. Are you sleeping well?”

“I am, actually. A little better than before.”

“Are you still having nightmares?”

“Not every night.”

“That’s good to hear.” Stephen took a sip of his tea and continued, “I’m surprised to find the Toad here, Wanda.”

“So was I. But he needed a place to stay. I don’t think he means me any harm, so I’ve been letting him stay. What? You don’t think that’s wise of me?”

“I can’t say that I do. The two of you haven’t had the most peaceable of pasts.”

“I know that. But those things were a long time ago. We’re both a bit different now.”

- - -

Later, when Dr. Strange left the apartment, he saw Toad sitting on the wall. He paused and looked up at him. “I don’t know what your intentions are, Toad, but for both yours and Wanda’s sake, I hope they are good.”

Toad scowled at the doctor’s back as he walked away. No one ever trusts the Toad. He couldn’t possibly be there because he cared for Wanda. No, of course not. He must have some dark, ulterior motive.

Angry, Mort leapt down from the wall and watched the doctor leave, imagining what a good, swift kick would do to his spine. Like the stupid magician really cared about Wanda. He was only interested in keeping her from becoming a threat. If he cared so much, he shouldn’t have left her alone with two fake kids in the first place.

Doctors were always such asses.