A/N: LAST CHAPTER! I have minorly edited a few of the earlier chapters so that little things make more sense and there aren't as many mistakes. But it's nothing too big that will change anything. Yay!

I know that comas can be broken out of, especially if Professor X is one of your friends. But as of this point, the X-men don't know what has even happened, and I'm sure that when they find out, it won't be in this story. I just wanted Wanda to kind of have some closure for now. :)

As for this chapter, I have this to say: JONDA. Please try not to die at my pathetic attempts at romance. ;D Well, this IS the last chapter—sniffle—so reviews will be cherished forever. PLEASE read and review!

Everything was perfect.

Magneto had been taken care of. Wanda was kind of getting along with Pietro. The boys weren't pestering her too much, just simple greetings and basic questions and for now, and that wasn't so bad. Things were getting better, and it had only been a few days. Exactly 3 days, in fact, had passed since Wanda had released John. After coming home from her visit to the hospital, she had slept, ate, and slept some more. All those days had gone down the drain, with no productivity whatsoever, with almost no way to tell the days apart from one another. She had barely even spoken through them. Something seemed off.

And everything did not feel perfect.

Wanda glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. She hated this feeling. The feeling of missing something. She had always been missing something at the asylum, and she shouldn't be now. But there was nothing to do around here. She woke up, existed all day, and then went back to bed at night. There was nothing. It was too cold to roam outside, and no one living in the Brotherhood actually went to school. There was nothing.

She aggressively spit in the sink, and washed her brush off. Boring, boring, boring. Her entire day was practically over as it was. She had groomed herself, and now, all that was left to do was eat and exist for the rest of the day. She was under no obligations to do anything else. And there wasn't anyone worth talking to around here, either.

She sighed to herself and wandered out of the bathroom, absently smoothing the hair that stuck up on her head. She wasn't even hungry. What was the use of gaining twenty pounds when she wasn't even hungry? She had already eaten a respectable breakfast. She was eating like a depressed preteen who had been dumped. That was not the way Wanda Maximoff behaved. She practically hated herself for it.

Wanda found herself in front of her bedroom door, assuming that she must have drifted here subconsciously. She felt like a zombie. There was no more thrill to existing. She didn't have to deal with anyone, or go through the ordeal of taking someone to the bathroom, and her emotions didn't get stirred up. She kind of... wanted to get wound up. She wanted to feel extra angry or pleased or embarrassed or anything. Anything to show her that she was still living, and this wasn't just some long dream brought to her by drugs from the asylum. Oh… she needed those feelings. Her hostage had been the only one who had ever made her emotions twist around like that. And while it was a hassle … it had been kind of nice, too. It was kind of nice to always have someone there, even if they weren't exactly there because of their will. It was kind of nice to have someone who understood what had happened to her, and who fought back sometimes. Without all that… it was dull. Life seemed extremely boring now.

God, she kind of missed him… ugh, how terrible was that to admit! She could never tell anyone—they would most certainly laugh at her. Even John probably. Especially John. What kind of a person got attached to their hostage? A weak one, and that was the last thing Wanda wanted to be when she was supposed to be free. Ugh, she wished she could knock some sense into herself.

Wanda was about to turn away from her door and go downstairs or something, when she heard a scratching sound coming from within her room. Scratching and mumbling sounds. She pressed her ear to the door, frowning thoughtfully. It sounded like a hamster scratching the walls of its cage. What the hell could it be, in her room? It certainly wasn't a hamster.

There was only one answer that Wanda could think of. It must have been a burglar of some sort. A stupid burglar, since anyone with eyes could read the huge "Brotherhood of Mutants" sign outside, and only an idiot would think to rob mutants. Well, maybe the robber had a weapon of some sort and thought they could take on several mutants at once with it.

Imbecile.

She opened and closed her fists, gathering energy within herself to knock down and freeze this burglar as soon as she opened the door. They were going to rue the day they messed with Wanda Maximoff, especially when she wasn't at her best. Stupid depression. Stupid John. Making her feel like pieces of her were missing. The nerve of him.

Wanda threw open her door, and immediately flung her hex bolt right at the person who was standing in the middle of the room, facing the window that they had just utilized to climb in here. It was a man, wearing a dark colored hooded jacket and jeans, and the hood was over his head.

"Aah!" he yelped, as he was knocked down onto his face on the floor. Although she was confident that he would be unable to freely move for a good while, she knelt beside him and pressed on his sides with her fingertips, checking him for contraband. He moaned. There was nothing concealed on his person, from what she could tell. She tugged at his hood, to expose his face.

"John!" she cried, frustrated. "You moron! What is wrong with you?"

He mumbled something inaudible, and she shoved him over onto his back, so she could at least see him, and maybe hear him properly.

"You are so stupid," she sighed to herself, sitting back a little and watching him breathe slowly. "Why couldn't you just use the front door like a normal person?"

"I didn't want anyone else to know I was here," he said, groaning a little bit as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Well, I see you're still as strong as ever."

Wanda pursed her lips, ignoring that. "Aww, were you afraid you were going to get attacked by the almighty Brotherhood?" she asked sarcastically.

"No," he said, leaning back on his elbows and smiling slightly. "I was afraid they wouldn't let me see you if I asked."

"So, you climbed up the side of the house," Wanda said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"It wasn't that hard," John gave a little shrug. "I've done things like that in training before. The hardest part was getting the actual window open and scooting in here. Because I'm still a bit injured from—"

"Why are you here?" Wanda interrupted, fixing her eyes somewhere that wasn't near his gaze, the zipper of his hooded jacket. It was half open, and Wanda was suddenly seized with an inexplicable desire to zip it down all the way. For no good reason. Well, maybe she wanted to touch him a little. See if he was still warm and all.

"Visiting," he said curtly, looking down at his front where her gaze rested. "Just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Whatever," Wanda said skeptically. "There's nothing here to interest you."

"You interest me," John said, and Wanda felt her face get pink, the tiniest bit annoyed that he was doing this again to her. Even though she wanted it. Making her feel these petty little emotions, making her feel her insides squirm. Almost… making her complete again. Making her feel like she had been during those little times when she had been kind of happy.

"You're such an idiot," she whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"But, Wanda, love, I'm your idiot," he said dramatically, grinning crookedly at her.

Wanda's face burned red, torn between striking him and pulling him close… except if she did any of those things, he could easily fight back or reject her… he wasn't tied up and helpless anymore. But then again... he actually was here by will now. That had to count for something.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, glaring at that jacket's zipper for good measure.

"Technically, Magneto ain't dead," John told her, and she could feel his eyes watching her, even though she wasn't looking at his face. "That means I'm still yours, doesn't it?"

Wanda bit on her bottom lip, her eyes searching his shirt. "What are you really here for, John?" she asked, looking up after a beat.

He inclined his head to the left. "I'm just trying to see how you're holding up here with no one to take out your aggressions on."

Wanda frowned, aware of a pang of guilt in her chest. "I didn't take out my aggression on you," she denied, hating that he was right.

"Now, you know that ain't true," John said, smiling affably at her. He sat up and unzipped the jacket, then lifted his shirt a little, exposing the bruises on his torso, marks of her frustration at her abandonment by Magneto. "Saw a doctor about that one," he said, pointing to the worst one. "Fractured two ribs, he said."

"Oh…" Wanda pursed her lips, feeling a bit more guilty, but also a little angry. Damn him for doing that! Making her feel uplifted and pleased, but then making her feel guilty and regretful. She had endured quite enough of that to last her the rest of her life. "Well… I'm sorry. I guess… maybe you'd better go now."

"Wait!" he grabbed her hand, as she began making a motion to stand up and get out. "Don't go! I was just—"

"Why?" Wanda demanded, cutting him off. "What do you want from me? You want to show me how badly I've hurt you? You want me to feel like shit again? Because I already spent ten years of my life feeling that way, and I don't want anymore of it. Is an apology what you want? Well, I'll tell you right now, then—I'm SORRY. I'm sorry for beating you up, for choking you, for trying to make you have an allergic reaction… for hurting you in any way that I did during these past few days. For everything. I'm sorry, and I never meant to ever feel the way I do now about you or anything else. I didn't think that anything would ever happen the way it did, and I didn't think I would ever need y—"

She stopped herself from speaking anymore and glared irritably at him, as if this was entirely his fault. Well, it was, kind of. Maybe not entirely. "Are you happy now?" she snapped.

John wet his lips distractedly, watching her expression with caution. "I kind of miss you," he said quietly, releasing her hand.

Wanda felt her glare dissolve instantly into an expression of surprise, which she tried to blink away so he couldn't tell. She hastily shut her mouth, as it had fallen open at the shock of the unexpected sentiment. "What?" She breathed, unsure that she had even heard correctly.

"I miss you," he repeated, his voice softer, and this time he was the one looking down at his now unzipped jacket. "Kind of."

Wanda swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry. "Why?"

John gave an uncomfortable shrug, as if he hadn't expected her to ask such a thing. "Well, I don't know. I felt kind of bad about Magneto messing up your childhood, and so I knew it was sort of a good cause. And you actually fed me and gave me clothes, and you didn't really hurt me. After how you treated me when you first kidnapped me, I expected you to hurt me a lot worse, but it wasn't that bad. Kind of."

"I was just trying to be humane," she said, in a tiny voice. He missed her. Was that even possible after how she had been to him? Humane. That was a laugh. She had beaten him up because she had been angry at Magneto. Well, that was it. John was insane. There was no other explanation for it. But then… she had missed him too… she must have been crazy as well.

"Plus, you've got a lovely, fiery temper," he continued, grinning. "It's very memorable, and exciting. And you're very pretty, you gave me a lighter, you let me bathe all by myself, and you untied me!" He bounced up and down at that last one. "And you're a fun kisser, too!"

She frowned, feeling increasingly red, and as much as she loved the color, it just did not do for her face to match her shirt. "You tell me what you're really doing here," she said angrily, quite determined to keep away from that topic. "And then maybe I'll tell you something, too."

John's eyebrows rose with perceived interest, as Wanda cursed herself for saying something like that. What could she tell him? That she had missed him too? That she felt bored out of her mind without him to occupy her? That she just needed him, in general? There was no way that she could ever tell him all that! "Like what?"

"Like nothing," she said flatly, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

John leaned back on his elbows again. "I just wanted to see you. That's what I'm doing here. Now you tell me what you want to tell me."

"No," Wanda said, biting her lip, feeling her resolve slipping.

"I told you!" John protested, looking vaguely affronted. "Now you have to tell me."

"No I don't," she snapped, grabbing the front of his shirt in an iron grip, just barely fighting the urge to shake him. "You can't tell me what to do. Now shut up and go home."

He pursed his lips. "You can't tell me what to do, either. I ain't your hostage person anymore. I'm a free bird." He paused, and then dropped his elbows, to lay flat on his back. "And you can't make me go."

Wanda pressed her lips into a line, studying him carefully. She noticed how open to attack he was right now; she could easily punch him right in the gut and take him down—he wouldn't be expecting it one bit, and his arms were at his sides, not on the defensive. He was vulnerable; he was always the vulnerable one, tied up or exposed somehow… he had told her that he missed her. Maybe she should tell him what she felt? About how badly it felt like she needed him …But that was so unnecessary, though! Why did he even need to know? Why couldn't it all just be one big mystery and they could just go on, happily ever after, always wondering what could have been?

There were two things that could be. Either she didn't tell him or she did.

If she didn't tell him, she would have to watch him leave again, and dwell forevermore about how boring things were when she was alone, but how alive she felt when he was with her, the emotions, the warmth, the rage, the passion. All that wondering and feelings of loss just because she didn't want him to know that she just plain needed him; that she wasn't the independent, strong, in-control girl she had always intended on being when she became free—she was dependent on him in some incomprehensible little way that mattered the most. And she would always wonder what could have been.

But then, if she did tell him… who knew? Anything could happen if she told him! But at least she would not suffer the what could have been thoughts that would plague her otherwise.

Wanda watched his face carefully, his eyes dancing with little lights, little lights all keenly focused on her. She could not look at his eyes and tell him something so… foolish; it would just be too intense, too sappy. But didn't she owe it to him, kind of? After everything she had done to him, it couldn't hurt either of them to be somewhat vulnerable, could it?

She glared down at him, hoping to frighten him, just a little, but all he did was shift slightly and smile. She had forgotten. He was not afraid of her, though he had the most right to be. Well, fine then. She would tell him. And she would do it in a way that he wouldn't ever forget, either.

It would probably be best to tell him as quietly as humanly possible so that it might have been passed off as a dream, or the wind, in case he rejected it. Trying not to think about that, Wanda released her grip on his shirt and put her hand up to his face, gently turning his head away as she lowered herself beside him. Eye contact was not for now. Feeling him try to turn his face back to her, she pressed her lips against his ear, feeling his body shiver in response… although it wasn't even cold in here.

Wanda felt a degree of anxiety, because of the knowledge of what she had to do and because of the feeling of her lips grazing his skin with no real reason to do so. She couldn't help but take a small bit of pleasure at the fact that she was so very close to John and he didn't even try to protest. Maybe he didn't want to. He only breathed and trembled at the numerous kisses she placed on the curve of his ear, and Wanda could tell that these weren't unpleasant reactions. She felt a shockwave go through her when the unexpected, light pressure of John's hand patted the back of her head, his fingers burying themselves in her dark hair—he had never really made such a huge physical advance on her before, only those little things, and that kiss—of course, the opportunity had never really arisen… Wanda swallowed apprehensively-she was sure he wouldn't reject her, he just wouldn't

Her voice was at the quietest that it could possibly ever go, and she was glad that she couldn't see whatever lights and expressions were dancing in his eyes. "I kind of… need... you," she admitted, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest that she was sure he could hear it louder than her voice. Ugh! She hated herself for making it sound so… stupid! She briefly wanted to die right there, breathing against him and keeping her eyes shut tight. Oh, she never wanted to move away because then she would have to make eye contact and deal with whatever grave consequences there were because of her blundering words! She could feel him smile against her hand.

"Now, why would you need a mad bloke like me?" he asked, turning his face a touch toward hers, as she didn't seem about to move away.

Wanda made sure to keep her eyes away from his. "I don't know…" she shrugged into him, still sullen about her moronic words, although she felt a sudden inordinate amount of relief at the fact that she had told him as much as she had. She couldn't possibly tell him that he made her feel alive. There was just no way she could express that without sounding like a bigger sap than she already was. That would just have to stay the deep, dark secret it was for right now. "I just don't know," she repeated, turning her face downwards into his warm shoulder.

She liked to be close to him… to feel the bizarre sensation of him running his fingers through her hair; it was something that she had never, ever felt before… John made her feel all these sensations, all the weird feelings, all these new things that she had never been familiar with before… never, ever… was this how normal people were?

"We're just chock-fulla problems, aren't we?" he murmured, and she could feel his lips moving on her hair. "I kind of like you and you kind of need me…"

Wanda carefully dropped her hand against his shoulder. "I thought you just missed me," she said, peering tentatively up at him, her fingers moving back to his wrinkled shirt.

"Well, now why would I miss you if I didn't like you, huh?" John watched her smooth out the wrinkles she had created earlier in his shirt with her free hand. He raised his eyes up to hers again, smiling brazenly. "And if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure you must like me quite a bit yourself. Especially if you need me and all."

"You're just saying that because I kissed your ear," Wanda accused, feeling highly self-conscious for admitting so much.

John grinned and abruptly threw his arms around her, pulling her tight against himself, and before she could even realize that she was close enough to feel his heart beating on her chest, his lips were against hers, pleasant and warm and full of the most overwhelming passion that Wanda had ever known in her entire life. She reciprocated the kiss, re-wrinkling his poor shirt with her fist, and after a long, deeply involved moment, she carefully pulled away, leaning over, still incredibly near.

She felt alive. Things like these were what life was all about, or how else could she feel so alive? There was no more locked up princess in a cold, lonely tower. She was free now, with meaningful arms around her and a room that felt hot with something kind of like passion. She was not trapped, and neither was John. She was not forcing him to be here; he wanted to be here. Maybe that was what really mattered.

Wanda thoughtfully stroked the side of John's face, trying to stifle her smile. "I owe you something, don't I?"

John's eyes went very wide with shock and his mouth moved, but no words escaped. With a wicked, wicked smirk, Wanda bent down and kissed his speechless lips.

THE END!

A/N: Let your imagination work its magic. And please, drop me one final REVIEW. :D

I put a lot of work into this story, as a whole, so thank you all for reading.

-Valoofle-

(PS: If anyone is unsure about what she owes him… read chapter 10 again. ;) )