Wanda had cooked that night. Pasta, simple and cheap. Though Toad lit the hurricane lamp, which gave the room a nice glow (and didn’t increase the electric bill).

He reached back to a time when they’d eaten together years ago. In The Brotherhood. She was young then, and beautiful. And so kind to him - or at least he thought so. The only one who was. From the first day he’d met her, he wanted to be her slave. Really. He wanted to stay at her every beck and call and do everything he possibly could for her in hopes of finding some favor in her sight. He wanted to stay close to her, to hear her smooth voice and gentle words.

But he was afraid to be near her, too. Afraid because he worried she might suddenly see how hideous he was and send him away. Or that, worse, she might start to taunt him like the others did. Or worse yet, that he’d see her one day and notice a look of disgust streak her face before she politely hid it from him. It tore him, to want so much to be near her, yet fear her repulsion so much. Some days he would stand away for an hour or more before deciding wether to go be near her or stay away from her. She became his primary thought. What would she think if he did this? Might she be pleased if he did that? Would he see her today? Would she speak to him today? What would he say to her if she did?

He memorized her. Occasionally, when he found the nerve, he would watch her secretly. She liked to stay outdoors when she could, and that was usually where he’d see her. He’d find some hidden place to watch her from, making up dialogue in his head. He’d envision himself walking up to her and saying hello. Sometimes, in his fantasies, she’d say hello in return and smile. Sometimes she’d even ask him to sit with her. Often, the scenes ended with Toad vowing some form of allegiance to her and she accepting.

As time passed, he grew bolder in his mind. He’d tell her how much he could do for her, and how happy she could be with him. Sometimes, she would be pleased and give him the chance to prove himself. He would, and she would be enraptured by his achievements. When he had enough to offer her, he would ask her to marry him. She would be so dazzled by everything he’d have lain out before her, that she would smile, awestruck, and accept.

At first, he taunted himself for thinking of such things, and he’d rewrite the endings with something more probable - Wanda leaning far away from him and trying to politely excuse herself from his presence. But after a while, he stopped thinking that his pretend scenes were so impossible. They became his goals. If he could earn enough for her, she would be able to accept his ugliness and marry him.

What a riot, Toad thought to himself now. She’d wanted a fake man more than him. One who kept getting disassembled and whose memories kept getting wiped. One who’s touch wasn’t human or mutant. She’d wanted a thing that, given only the knowledge, any real man could recreate. But then she ended up killing him, so who knows where her heart really was.

He looked across the table to her. He was surprised to see that she looked ready to cry. For an instant, he wondered if she’d been able to see his thoughts. But he knew she couldn’t.

“Wanda?” he said.

She responded only by crinkling her forehead more and trying to fight back the tears. After a moment, she managed, “I’m sorry...”

This was new to him. Wanda didn’t cry. She was the one who kept her head (with notable exceptions) and took charge when everyone else fell into a panic. Now, however, slow, clear tears ran down her cheeks and over her hands when she wiped them away.

“Here, don’t cry,” he said, “Things are all right. You’re doing all right here, with your apartment and job. Don’t cry now.” Timidly, he got up from his place on the floor and scooted over to her. He didn’t touch her, but he tried to be as comforting as possible by just sitting near her.

Head in her hands, she leaned her elbows on the table and her shoulders shook silently. He wanted to put an arm over her shaking back, but he was far too afraid to seriously consider it. He didn’t want to gross her out. He just wanted her to stop crying. To stop being sad. He wanted to see the Scarlet Witch that she’d always seemed to him. Strong and graceful and what he’d wanted to make her: happy.

“Here now, Wanda, don’t cry. Things can only get better, right? Things won’t stay this bad - not for you. You can always make things turn out better.” Reverse affect, he realized too late. She took a sharp breath and started weeping harder.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t cry. Don’t be sad. What can I do? Is there anything I can do to make things better?”

“No. I’ve already ruined everything. You can’t fix anything.”

She was talking about the Avengers, he realized. How should he respond to that? He saw small streams of tears running down her arms. Very slowly, he moved his hand - webbed and slightly slimy - toward her arm. He held his breath, praying to Whomever that she wouldn’t jump away from him, and softly touched her arm. She didn’t move, so he brushed his fingers on her skin until he had wrapped his fingers around her forearm. Still, she didn’t move.

“Don’t cry,” he said quietly. “Don’t be sad, Wanda. If you can’t undo it, then it’s over, right?”

“It doesn’t go away just because it’s over ” She finally looked at him, yelling at him. He withdrew his hand immediately.

“I ... I know ...” Damn it. He said the wrong thing. Damn. Damn you, you stupid Toad.

Wanda was crying without reservations now. “They were my friends. My family. The only family I had left.” She stopped yelling only because she couldn’t speak anymore. Her face shimmered with smeared tears as she cried, seeming not to care that Toad was still there.

“But Wanda ... you didn’t mean to. You would never have - never have hurt your friends like that on purpose.”

Sobbing, she laid her head on her knees and choked, “Then why did I do it?”

‘This curse,’ he thought. ‘Because we were born with this curse.’

He had a clean rag in his pocket, and he handed it to her. She looked up at him, took it, then wiped her eyes and nose. “Thank you,” she said through shaking, but slowing, sobs.

He watched her patiently as she grew calmer, with the patience he’d learned while hiding from his childhood tormentors, the police, and while watching her secretly. Accepting that there was nothing comforting he could say to her, he was still. She was quietly weeping, holding his makeshift handkerchief to her face. She looked like Toad had felt for most of his life. Trapped in his own personal prison. Not only of his body, but his mind as well. He thought Wanda must have felt the same way. A mutation she could hardly control ruled her body, and her tormented mind ruled her soul.

A blaze of anger arose in Toad. It was wrong. They shouldn’t have had to live this way. Not he, nor Wanda, nor anyone else. He wanted something to blame, but he couldn’t find anything. Humanity, maybe, but that was too vast of a target; he’d learned from experience. Here, Wanda had spent almost her entire life so far with powers she could never fully control, and vicious memories given to her by an uncaring world. They’d both been nothing but little children when people hurt them. Little ones who couldn’t protect themselves. No one should do that to children. Their lives were ruined before they’d had a chance to live for themselves.

Wanda was still crying. She was ruined. Everyone had thought so. There was no hope. Spoiled goods. A sad waste of a beautiful woman and great power. Not even the eternal optimist Xavier thought she could be salvaged. Mort had done his homework on the situation. Xavier, Magneto, Strange. They’d agreed to let her out in the real world, but they were really just waiting for her last strand of sanity to untwine. Then ... who knows? They’d put her out of her misery or let her do it for herself.

Bastards.

No one should be left alone like this. No one should be shoved in a room to cry. The same anger burned in him again. They were mistreating her like they’d mistreated her as a child. Just set her aside and go about your business. Nevermind that she’s dying alone and in pain.

Toad had no idea how to be comforting to anyone, much less to the shattered Wanda. What had she used to say to him, long ago? What made her seem so kind?

“Here, Wanda,” he stood and tentatively held out his gruesome hand. “Let me help you up.”

She looked up and held back her tears for a moment, then took his hand. He helped lift her to her feet and then let go. “Come here, let me get you a glass of water and some tea. Come sit down in the kitchen and rest a little.”

Wanda let him lead her to the single kitchen chair, where she sat down and watched him fill a glass with water and put some on the stove for tea. He handed her the water. She drank it, and felt the cool water calm her slightly. Her breathing slowed back to a normal rate and she’d stopped crying. Surprised by his actions, she watched him as he took out a tea bag and set it in another cup. He seemed so caring, so suddenly. He could have been disgusted with her and gotten up and left, but oddly he chose to make her tea.

She looked at him, at his changed appearance, and wondered if he was the same Toad she’d angrily defeated in the house in Leona. Had he always had a gentle side? Accepting the cup of tea he held her, she began to wonder what else she might have missed in him.