Chapter Text
Rio moved from New York City to Westview for one very simple reason: she wanted to work less – no, not exactly less, she was working the exact same number of hours as all police officers were required to in the state of New Jersey – she merely wanted work to be easy, and what is easier than a small residential town where nothing happens?
She had not once regretted her decision, much too happy to leave the chaos of the city behind. She neither missed the traffic nor the people, she thought, driving down Main Street in the middle of the day.
Rio waved back at an elderly couple crossing the street and smiled at a kid holding a nice labradoodle on a leash under the careful eye of his mother. She loved Westview. It was quiet.
She parked the police car and walked into the coffee shop. She could waste five minutes of her patrol on a Tuesday afternoon: nothing would happen.
“Looking good, officer.” She heard. When Rio turned to the voice, she was met with the one and only Agatha Harkness. The bane of her existence. The harbinger of chaos.
“Hello, Agatha.” She replied simply.
The older woman winked and walked away. She was wearing business-casual clothes: a shirt and high-waisted pants that fit her so well Rio could hardly tear her eyes away from them. She was probably on her way to scam upstanding Westview citizens, the officer guessed. She really had no idea what Harkness did for work, probably something illegal, if she even had a job.
That woman was trouble. A very attractive sort of trouble who would relentlessly flirt with her. It took everything Rio had not to cave and wipe that smug smirk off her face with her own lips.
Rio sighed and shook herself awake from her Agatha-induced daydream; a coffee would do her good.
She cursed the woman under her breath – Rio refused to jeopardise her position in this quaint city by sleeping with a known-player and criminal.
The barista who made her coffee smiled at her politely and wished her a good shift. She would never give this up, not for a few hours of pleasure between Agatha Harkness’s thighs.
Not ever.
She spotted the she-devil sitting on a bench with a lit cigarette in her hand not far from where Rio had parked. She looked deviously proud which the officer found suspicious, but she could hardly arrest her for smiling too smugly.
She chose to ignore her and simply made her way to her car. Her spotless, beautiful police car that had been vandalised in the five minutes she had spent away from it.
Rio stared at the pair of breasts drawn with what she assumed to be a black marker.
With the napkin the waitress had handed her with the coffee, she tried to wipe it off. It worked instantly. The ink was merely whiteboard marker.
“Seriously?” She said.
Behind her, Agatha started cackling. “Why did you do this, Agatha?” She asked, turning to her menacingly.
“Moi?” Agatha brought a hand to her chest and gasped in feigned shock. “I would never do anything like that.”
“You’re saying I won’t find a whiteboard marker in your pockets if I look?”
“You can frisk me whenever, officer. You don’t need to accuse me of anything for that.” She smiled.
Rio just exhaled. “Get a job, Harkness.” She said before getting in her car. She could still hear Agatha’s taunting cackling even with the door closed.
That woman was infuriating, always causing trouble, but never quite enough to be charged or convicted of anything.
On Rio’s first week in Westview, Agatha had started a bar fight: a man had, allegedly, touched her hip and grinded too close so she broke his wrist and punched his two friends who had come to his defence. She was arrested and kept in custody for the entire night after threatening the men with more bodily harm. The three idiots did not press charges and Agatha walked free after having spent hours flirting with Rio.
A month later, Agatha had set fire to a family of four’s bed of tulips in the middle of the night. She had followed Officer Vidal to the station in handcuffs, making raunchy comments that bordered on sexual harassment. Rio had filed no complaint. How hypocritical of her to do so when she had silently pictured the very same things all night.
The family had not pressed charges, in fact, the husband claimed he had accidently set fire to his own flowers even though Agatha was caught red-handed by firefighters and Rio herself.
A fortnight later, Agatha was arrested for egging the mayor’s home. She was let go on the orders of the mayor herself. Rio had no idea what that had all been about, all she knew was that Harkness had spent the whole time winking and blowing kisses in her direction.
It had happened a few more times: petty crime (harmless vandalism of her neighbours’ cars), disorderly conduct after a night out (bar fights), theft of public property (road signs) – and every time, Agatha had walked out of the station free of any charge.
Rio’s colleagues merely shrugged at her antics, offering to drive her home instead of arresting her. What was the point, really? She did not always accept, preferring to threaten them with more disorderly behaviour if she were to be released early.
Agatha Harkness was as obnoxiously unbearable as she was attractive. And to Rio, that made her dangerous. She had always loved the crazy ones, the morally reprehensible, the psychos. If “her type” could be personified, it would be Agatha.
But instead of succumbing to the she-devil’s charms, Rio pretended to be irritated by them. (She really hoped her colleagues did not suspect anything; she would hate to lose this perfectly boring job.)
Officer Vidal’s shift ended early enough for her to stop by the library after picking her card up from the townhall. Why the library itself did not deliver them was a mystery to her. Apparently, the person who ran it was perfectly rude and deterred anyone who tried to sign up for one. Rio could not imagine who would be off-putting enough for that.
She entered the building and was surprised to find it empty: no one to greet her at the counter. She imagined the librarian had to be busy somewhere. It didn’t matter.
Rio was also surprised by the collection: an entire section on witchcraft. She picked an old spell book to go with the botanical anthology she wished to borrow. The LGBTQ+ shelves appeared well-stocked too, she promised to browse them next time.
And finally, after one last look at the well-arranged books and studious teenagers at the computers, she walked to the counter.
That’s where she saw her, her worst nightmare, Agatha Harkness, sitting on a highchair behind the computer. She had a nametag that seemed purposefully indecipherable.
“What are you doing here?” Rio asked, suspicious.
“I work here.” Agatha shrugged.
“You’re a librarian?” Rio asked again.
She looked bewildered which riled Agatha up.
“No, I’m a drug dealer and this is a great spot.” Harkness replied sarcastically.
“Is this community service or something?” Rio questioned again. It just did not add up: Agatha Harkness, the troublemaker, running the library.
“Jesus, are you actually here for a book or just to waste my time?” The other woman bit back.
Rio almost stepped away, looking at Agatha with her wide doe eyes. She was intimidating, it made her heart start and her insides clench on nothing. She willed herself to ignore this reaction. Now was not a good time.
“I’d like to borrow these.” She said, handing her the two books.
“Plants and witchcraft. That’s hot.” Agatha commented.
“Okay.” Rio sighed. There she was, good old Agatha.
“Do you want to join my coven? Everyone keeps saying no. Apparently dancing naked around a bonfire in the forest is not appealing to the community.” The woman offered with an innocent smile. She handed Rio her books and card, batting her eyelashes comically.
“Have a good day, Agatha.” The officer replied, ignoring her once again. She hurried out of the library.
“Come again soon, officer.” Harkness called from the counter. “Love, Simon, really? You’ve read it four times. We have plenty of other gay books.” Rio heard her say.
“It’s my favourite.” A teenager replied sheepishly. It was one of the Maximoff boys, the one who wore eyeliner and drank too much iced coffee.
It took everything in her not to tell him stop being so stereotypically gay. Thankfully, she knew to keep her comments to herself. As well as other things, she sighed, closing the door behind her.
Note to herself: never go to the library, instead destroy the small bookshop community and your own savings account by buying off Amazon.
She drove home, a one-bedroom house across town with a yard consequential enough for her to plant all the flowers and vegetables she wished and even a little bit of weed in the greenhouse she had built herself during her first week there. All of that for half the price she would pay to rent a bedsit in the city.
Rio loved Westview.
She had recently unpacked all her belongings: it had been five months. Her furniture was functional but not particularly tasteful, all surfaces were covered in plants.
There were no pictures on the walls, no knick-knacks anywhere, it was plain, plain and comfortable for her.
She now had twenty-four hours of free time before her unsurmountable nightshift on Friday. She sighed in anticipation: she really wished Agatha was going to behave.
Rio busied herself easily: working in the yard, tidying her bedroom, grocery shopping, laundry… And maybe, just maybe, she opened the spellbook she had borrowed from the library and looked for a spell to cast and cause general unpleasantness.
Not that she had anyone special in mind – even if she did, she was lacking the essential supplies anyway.
Friday night arrived much too quickly for her liking and with it, the inevitable call at midnight: disorderly conduct in a bar. The owner did not bother mentioning the name of the patron causing trouble.
Rio grabbed her utility belt and followed the officer she had been paired with for the night: Alice Wu Gulliver, her favourite.
Alice was sweet, a bit of a disaster but Rio could not really judge anyone’s professionalism. Most of the time, she did not care what crime had been committed: she arrested people because it was her job, not because she found it in anyway morally reprehensible.
The bane of Vidal’s existence was sitting outside the local bar, seemingly restrained by the owner.
“Okay, what did she do now?” Rio asked, slamming the door behind her.
Agatha’s eyes were red and swollen, she had a glass in her hand – the officer assumed she was both high and inebriated.
“She pickpocketed some guy.” The owner replied.
“I did not.” Agatha protested. She was not even trying to sound convincing.
“Open your purse, Agatha.” The owner said.
“I told you, you can’t make me.” She said petulantly.
“Sure I can’t, but they can.” He pointed at the two officers and walked back inside. Not his circus, not his monkeys.
The potential victim of theft left the bar to join the officers and give a statement. He had felt Agatha reach into his pockets and his wallet was coincidentally nowhere to be found since.
“Open your purse, Agatha.” Alice ordered.
“No way.” She said.
“We only have to arrest you to legally look inside, you know?” Rio reminded her to no avail.
The smirk on Agatha’s lips was almost carnivorous. “Fine, go ahead and cuff me, daddy.” She replied, holding her joint hands towards Vidal.
The officers sighed, Alice dealt with the handcuffing and Rio grabbed the purse. She opened it to find nothing but Agatha’s phone, a credit card in her name and a tube of lipstick.
“There’s nothing there.” Rio realised.
“What? Are you kidding?” Alice frowned and checked for herself.
“Just frisk her, it might be in her pockets or something.” She replied.
Agatha remained still, smiling smugly as Alice looked for the stolen wallet everywhere on her person.
“You should try looking up my vagina.” She snorted.
Rio rubbed her face in annoyance.
“Seriously? Did you even take anything?” Gulliver asked.
“Your mother’s butthole virginity.” She replied.
Rio just stared.
“I don’t care that you’ve allegedly fucked my mother, Agatha.” Alice merely rolled her eyes.
“She what?” Rio asked.
“It was a fun day.” Agatha told her with a wide smile.
“We should just let her go, Rio. She’s just being annoying.”
“Please, do.” Harkness cackled.
“No, it looks like she’s on a roll. She’ll make our shift hell if we don’t get her into custody. We can keep her in for drunkenness. And I’m pretty sure she’s high.” Rio noted. Her eyes were quite bloodshot.
Alice appeared reluctant, which was strange for her, she never minded taking suspects into custody. “Fine.” She finally said.
“I’ll consent to a cavity search if you’re the one performing it, handsome.” Agatha told Rio when she grabbed her arm to get her on the backseat.
“Jesus.” Rio whispered. Another terribly long night for her.
They drove in silence. In the rearview mirror, Vidal could see the smugness on Agatha’s face turn into something unreadable.
“Alright, Agatha, how about we drive you home?” Alice said after a moment of silence. They were nearing the city centre, only a few streets away from Agatha’s home.
“What?” The wannabe criminal asked. She frowned, upset by the very idea.
“Why?” Rio questioned next.
“Come on, you should spend today at home, not in a cell.” Alice said. Her tone was full of compassion for a reason unknown only to Rio.
Agatha bit the inside of her cheek. “No way, if you drive me home, I’ll just do worse. Want to see me destroy that bitch Hart’s petunias?” She threatened.
“Who’s Hart?” Rio asked.
“Mrs Davis.” Alice replied.
“She has azaleas.” Vidal corrected. She had complimented the old woman on her flowers several times.
“Okay. Nerd.” Agatha snorted.
“Agatha you’re one to talk. You used to be a teacher.” Alice replied.
“You did?” Rio was once again bewildered by Westview’s worst citizen.
“Yeah, she did.” Gulliver nodded.
“Damn, what happened? Did you show up drunk?” Rio joked.
Agatha looked offended. “Yeah, sure. Something like that.” She mumbled, looking away quickly.
The look on Alice’s face was enough for Rio to realise it may have been an insensitive joke to make. She continued to drive in silence.
Agatha knew the drill: she allowed them to take her shoes, her personal belongings and her jewellery – everything except her necklace which she was allowed to keep, Rio had realised the first time she had arrested her (Agatha had lost her mind at the mere suggestion of her taking it off for the night, a superior officer had to intervene and tell Rio to leave it with her).
Alice refused to take care of the paperwork, the drug test and the breathalyser, not wanting to hear another joke about Agatha having sex with her deceased mother, so Rio took care of it.
She stared at the negative test and ran it three more times. When the breathalyser told her Agatha could not have had more than two drinks, she turned to her.
“You’re not actually high. You’re not even drunk. Why won’t you go home?” She asked.
“I don’t feel like it.” Agatha replied. Her tone lacked its usual snarkiness, she would not even meet her eyes.
Rio was puzzled.
“Can you walk me to the cell now, officer?” She asked after a long silence.
“Right.” She nodded and led her to her resting place: the good old cell. Agatha stretched out on the cold hard bench and stared at the ceiling.
“Okay… Yell if you need anything.” Rio called.
She frowned when she was met with silence. No witty retort, no flirty comment, no nothing.
She sat at her desk, staring at the paperwork she was meant to fill: the suspect was accused of pickpocketing but no proof of theft, the suspect was taken in custody for disorderly conduct under the influence but she was neither inebriated nor on drugs, the suspect claims she will commit more crimes if left to her own devices but appears to be in a catatonic state.
Rio put down her pen and stared at the cell a while longer. There was something terribly wrong with Agatha, something she could not quite understand. She was used to the loud, obnoxious Agatha, furious Agatha, insane Agatha, rude Agatha… Not this Agatha who looked like an entirely different person.
A call from the owner of the bar informed her that the man’s wallet had been found on the floor.
Rio walked to the cell and unlocked the door. Her colleagues did not bother looking up from whatever they were doing; she had done so multiple times. She was a moth to flame, always finding a reason to talk to Harkness while she was in custody.
“You’d rather sleep in a cell than in a comfortable bed.” She said, sitting on the bench where Agatha laid.
“I didn’t want to go home today, okay? I can’t do it.” She replied. She sat up next to Rio, not even close enough to touch her which she would have usually done.
“Why not?” Rio pushed.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Agatha said.
The officer merely frowned. It seemed people in this town knew everything about everyone and expected her to do the very same after five small months. “I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right…” Agatha stared at her, not sure whether to believe her. Rio’s doe eyes shone with sincerity and worry, it wasn’t the pity she was used to seeing in the rest of the town’s.
“Seven years ago today, I… lost my kid.” She admitted, looking down. She had not talked about it in so long. It hurt all the same, especially on the anniversary of his passing.
“Oh I’m… I’m so sorry.” Agatha could tell Rio wasn’t used to comforting people. She struggled to find the right words and she hesitantly reached for her arm in a gesture that was meant to be full of compassion but ended up being an awkward pat.
“What… How…? If you want to talk about it.” Rio dropped her hand back on her own lap. Idiot, she thought.
“He was six and he’s been dead longer than he’s been alive so that just…” Agatha bit the inside of her cheek. Speaking it aloud make it worse somehow. She felt like crying again – she hadn’t really stopped today.
“Sucks.” Rio completed for her.
She turned to the officer, ‘suck’, such a juvenile word from the mouth of a woman only ten years her junior. Rio was not well-spoken in emotional situations. “Sure.” She just said, snorting silently.
“Why don’t you go home, Agatha?” The officer asked.
“Because he’s everywhere.” Agatha sniffled. “Sometimes I just don’t want to be in there.”
Rio nodded and it seemed to click into place.
“So, you make sure you end up here?” She completed for Agatha.
“Here or at someone’s place.” Agatha shrugged. “Whatever, you’ve heard the rumours.” Her mask was back on, the sardonic town whore.
“I haven’t, actually.” Rio frowned.
She had seen first-hand what Agatha was capable of: the heavy make out sessions in the streets, the walks of shame on Sundays, the unnecessary flirting in line at the coffee shop; but she had not heard the rumours from the rest of Westview.
Agatha did not answer.
“Do you want to tell me how it happened?” Rio offered.
She wondered whether she should, whether she should put herself through the agony of speaking the words aloud and appear vulnerable in front of the one exciting thing this town had to offer. But Rio seemed so sincere, empathetic.
“It was my fault, I was careless. He was playing in the yard. I told him not to leave the property, you know? But he’s a kid so of course he didn’t listen.” She started. A tear rolled down her cheek, she wiped it, hoping the officer hadn’t seen it.
“I must have turned around for two minutes to get him a juice box and he sent his ball flying down the road, I guess, and ran to get it without me because ‘he’s a big boy now’, right?” She laughed mirthlessly. “A car hit him. It was going way too fast, he just… died on impact.” Her voice broke at the word and the sob she had been holding finally made it past her lips.
Rio grabbed her hand, it wasn’t anything she had learnt during her police training, not professional at all and she couldn’t care less. Agatha breathed in and scooted closer to rest her head on her shoulder.
“Did they find the driver?” Rio eventually asked.
“Oh yeah, he’s in prison but it kills me to know that he might be getting out in a couple of years.” She replied, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
Rio reached inside her pocket with her free hand to offer her a tissue and Agatha almost wished she had not. Being sexy was one thing, it could justify relentless pursuing and attention-seeking behaviour, but Rio being kind was another entirely, it unlocked Pandora’s box.
“I’m sorry. It’s unfair but it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself. It was the driver’s responsibility.” Rio said.
“Yeah.” Agatha breathed in and removed her head from the officer’s shoulder lest she did something reckless like hug or thank her. “I guess I’ll just have to find him and kill him.” She joked.
“Right.” Rio said. She stared at Agatha, trying to figure out if there was any truth behind her statement.
“Anyway, here’s the sob story.” Harkness said. She rolled her shoulders and wiped the rest of her tears, her expression as smug as ever.
“Thanks for telling me.” Rio replied. She smiled weakly.
Agatha was relieved not to see pity painting her features, there was sympathy and something else, something close to affection. It looked terribly inviting.
And then, Rio stepped away without another word. Agatha tried to bury her disappointment deep inside, storing it away with the rest of her emotions. Rio had a job to do, she knew that.
But then, all but five minutes later, she walked back in carrying a steaming mug.
“Here you go.” She said, holding it out for her. The Westview Police logo seemed to taunt her.
“Is that coffee?” Agatha asked, surprised.
“Hot chocolate.” The officer.
“Why?” She frowned.
“Because it’s comforting.” Rio replied. She sat back on the bench.
Agatha smiled. “Thank you.” She muttered. It was unnatural on her tongue. She did not thank people much.
“So, you were a teacher?” Rio asked her after a while, smiling with strange curiosity.
“Yeah.” Agatha nodded. She had quit after Nicky’s death. She just could not focus anymore, could not handle disruption without snarling and tearing teens to pieces or wishing to physically hurt them.
“What did you teach?”
“Literature in Westview High.” She shrugged.
“Were you a bitch with the students? Or were you the passionate one everybody had a crush on?” Rio smiled.
“A crush on? Am I starting to wear you out?” Agatha joked.
“Never, Harkness.” The officer rolled her eyes but the blush on her cheeks belied her lips.
“Never say never, officer.” Harkness promised. “And for your information, I was a fucking bitch. They called me the Wicked Witch of English Department.”
“I’m sure you loved that title.”
“I sure did.” She smiled.
Rio drove Agatha home the next morning at the end of her shift and could not quite stop smiling even as the older woman told her:
“Thanks for last night, darling. I must admit, I did expect our first walk of shame to be a bit different than this.”
She stared, biting her bottom lip, making sure Agatha unlocked her door safely before driving off. The Maximoff boy waved at her with a knowing look in his eyes. His smile was wide, his eyeliner smudged… It took everything in her not to flip him off.
Rio drove home and collapsed in her bed. She stared at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.
She would now be haunted by the terrible dichotomy of Agatha Harkness: the devilish menace to peace and order had proven to be a sensitive English teacher turned librarian. The officer could not quite wrap her head around it.
Simple attraction she could handle, but whatever this was? Oh, she was in trouble.