[time goes with little consequence as wanda studies the myriad of geometrical compounds and angles, remembering a moment when she had been trapped within a similar mirrorscape. she is drawn away from it, though, when she feels peter's presence enter the horizon. he calls her name—

and wanda draws a shaky breath.

yes, she thinks, i remember him. the way he looks, the way his thoughts would ricochet too loudly, so earnestly, the way he would apologize for absolutely nothing of consequence, and for his gentle and careful approach. this is the young man she's come to know, whom she had forgotten her relationship with when she returned to their world, not finding the significance of it until she returned (until he messaged her).]

Peter.

[it's a a mutter of plosives whistling past her lips, for once not held back by her own insecurities and careful measures of affection. she walks to him, hurried, bare feet heavy, and breaches the distance between them to hold him tightly in her arms. she's nodding against his head, a little frantically, trying to get words out.]

Stephen's spell didn't— didn't affect me. I had a hex, and— and I didn't realize before, but now I know, I didn't— [a gulp of air, embracing him tighter, tears flooding her vision, wetting his shoulder as they fall.] I remember you, Peter.