Chapter Text
Rio’s chest tightened as she watched Agatha, the flicker of desperation in her eyes igniting a familiar ache that had haunted her.
"If I deliver Billy," Agatha placed a finger against her lips. "You let me go."
Rio's breath hitched involuntarily. She couldn't do that. No. She couldn't let Agatha go, not again, not after centuries of yearning and waiting.
"You will eventually die." She said matter-of-factly. "Agatha-" Agatha think this through, Agatha think of how this will affect me, Agatha please don't.
"But I want you to stop pursuing me."
"I want you to stop making my life hell."
"And when I die, a long, long, long time from now." Agatha said slowly, the words absorbing into Rio's skin like daggers.
"I don't want to see your face."
Rio clenched her jaw, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The weight of Agatha’s words hung heavy in the air, a suffocating silence punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves outside
She was taken aback. How could she do this, how was she expected to stay away from her? It was torture, complete and utter torture. But she'd do it.
Anything for Agatha. After all these years, decades, centuries, she owed her that.
Rio took in a shocked breath and let it consume her, looking at Agatha, a final time before she'd have to do something bigger, something destructive, she closed her eyes.
She let the image sink into her mind, keeping it one final time, the hurt only intensified.
"Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper, but it crackled with pain.
The wind on her back passed by her, making her tremble. It was tiring being Death, but this? This had made her fucking exhausted.
Death ventured further into the woods, refusing to look back at her lover, unshed tears shining in her eyes.
She hoped Agatha was in disbelief. Hoped that she regretted her decision and wanted to retract her words, but she knew that wasn't true.
Agatha Harkness doesn't make a split second decision like that. She wanted this all along.
She wanted to be free of Rio.
Her knife cut through the flimsy plastic of the Road's fake wall as she looked back at Agatha, trying to motion her silently.
Rio only hoped the sob that was threatening to leave her throat could stay contained for a few more moments.
The shadows danced around them, and the silence felt heavy, like a thick fog that suffocated any remnants of their shared history. Every step Rio took away from Agatha felt like she was shedding a part of herself, leaving fragments of her heart scattered in the underbrush.
Each twig that snapped underfoot echoed the breaking of promises unspoken, of futures that would never be.
The back rooms seemed to go on for years, but they eventually got out, Agatha a solid 10 metres away from her.
She still couldn't cry.
Not here. Not with Agatha.
Rio picked up her crown, her death crown. She twirled in on her fingertips, questioning what to. Does she put it back on, vanish into her realm to escape this turmoil and let it out before rejoining or fucking suck it up like death should.
"Rio."
No .
"Rio."
"It’s not fair, Rio.”
Rio closed her eyes again, envisioning the life she had wanted with Agatha—the small moments, the laughter, the shared secrets under starlit skies. But the image was marred now, painted over with the ache of impending separation.
"Yeah." Her voice was quiet and laced with grief.
She honestly thought that once she re-emerged back into Agatha's life they could be back together. They could go into her realm, despite needing Agatha to die and have a life together with Nicky.
“It's time we stop fighting,” she said, her voice almost a plea. “You need to let me go. It’s the only way I can be free.”
Rio’s heart thundered in her chest, the conflict raging inside her like a tempest. “Free?” she scoffed, the bitterness souring her words. “What you call freedom feels like a death sentence to me.”
“But you have to,” Agatha said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, laden with a quiet intensity. “You've made my life hell. All of it. I need you to go away, stop pursuing me, not face me. Because if you don't I'll never be free."
Silence fell again, thick and suffocating, each heartbeat echoing the reality that neither of them wanted to face. Rio looked into Agatha’s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, any flicker of the love that had once shone so brightly. But all she found was resolute determination.
“I’ll always love you,” Rio said finally, the confession slipping from her lips like a prayer.
"Then stop." Agatha’s breath stuttered. She didn't mean it. She didn't mean it. She didn't-
Rio shook her head with a humourless laugh, her hand resting on her dagger, needing the support.
"Okay." Rio muttered. "It's a deal."
“I need you to do this Rio-”
"It's. A. Deal." Rio landed on. "You get Billy to sacrifice himself, I'll leave you alone, even if you die, I'll stop pursuing you. I'll forget you."
Rio felt the world shift beneath her feet as she turned once again, a chasm opening up between them that felt insurmountable. She closed her eyes once more, allowing the tears to fall this time, each drop carrying the weight of a thousand unfulfilled dreams.
As she turned away, a part of her felt like it was being ripped from her soul (if she even had one).
She reached a clearing bathed in moonlight, the silvery glow illuminating her path. There, in the centre, lay a small, ancient tree—a twisted, gnarled thing that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. It was a place of transition, a threshold between worlds.
Rio approached the tree, her fingers grazing its rough bark. She had come here countless times, a sanctuary where the pain of existence faded, if only for a moment. But tonight, it offered no solace.
Agatha Harkness would die, and she couldn't help. Not this time, not ever again. A part of her would be shattered over and over again. A life without Agatha was hardly a life at all.
There was no escape. Death wouldn't come for her. She couldn't harness her own power to end this nightmare. She was stuck.
–
Agatha leaned in, pressing her lips against Rio’s. The kiss ignited a fire that burned deep within her, a bittersweet farewell filled with all the love she had tried to contain. As their lips met, Rio did all she could to keep it going, not let her slip into the veil.
She could feel her and Agatha’s tears flowing on their cheeks, hands cradling each other's faces. Then, a cold, consuming darkness enveloped them both. Agatha felt a shiver run through her body, and she knew—this was the kiss of death. It was both a release and a chain, freeing her spirit forever.
In an instant, Agatha’s warmth faded, her body growing limp against Rio’s. Horror washed over Rio as she pulled away, her heart racing. Panic surged through her. But the light in Agatha’s eyes dimmed, and she collapsed into Rio’s arms, lifeless and serene.
She killed her. She killed the love of her life.
Time ceased to exist as Rio cradled Agatha, the world around them dissolving into shadows. The weight of grief crushed her, and she felt as if the very ground beneath her was falling away.
A grave built over Agatha, covered in flowers, dipladenia blooming at moments notice. She didn't notice Billy, in fact she made a point to ignore him.
He should've died. She didn't care how awful it sounded, she was Death; she made the rules.
It wasn't Agatha Harkness’ time yet. Billy Maximoff should've given himself up to her. She’d never forgive him.
Hours turned into days, and Rio found herself standing at Agatha’s grave, the autumn air heavy with sorrow. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out like fingers grasping for what had been lost.
She knelt before the fresh mound of earth, her heart shattering with each breath. The flowers she had brought wilted in her hands, forgotten as tears streamed down her cheeks.
She couldn't reach her. Agatha wasn’t truly dead, not in the afterlife. A tear fell from her eye.
Agatha had chosen to become a ghost of all things. A torment to her.
She couldn't do this. She’d lost her once, now twice, and soon three times because soon enough Agatha was going to decide she hated being a ghost and banish herself.
Only time would tell how long that’ll take. But for now, she’ll let tears fall over Agatha’s grave, letting all her regrets out and then go back.
She’ll hide her tears in time for Nicholas to give her a hug and lead her inside. Just in time to play checkers with him and explain that he can't just make up the rules.
He hadn't aged. No one had. It was a curse. She was a curse. Nothing would ever change.
Rio hated this.
Agatha was a ghost. She couldn't get to her, couldn't really see her. If she was a lost soul she could guide into the afterlife, everything would be better. She hated ghosts.
Rio turned away, feeling the gravity of Agatha’s final words during their fight weighing heavily on her heart. “Goodbye, Agatha.” The words felt like a dagger, sharp and unrelenting. Agatha had been clear in her last moments — she had begged Rio to forget her, to leave her alone after death.
As she walked away from the grave, a deep ache settled in her chest. The ghostly flicker of Agatha’s presence lingered in her mind, haunting her every step. It was maddening. How could she just forget? How could she pretend that Agatha hadn’t shaped her existence for centuries
“Why did you have to go?” she murmured to herself, the emptiness of the early morning air pressing down on her. Each step felt heavy, weighted with the memories of laughter, love, and the heated arguments that had defined their turbulent bond.
The promise she had made clawed at her insides, the demand echoing like a ghostly refrain: “Forget me. Leave me the fuck alone.”
Rio wanted to scream, to break the silence of the morning with the fury of her grief, but she bit back the rising tide of emotion. Agatha had made her choice, and now, it was Rio’s turn to honour it. Still, every fibre of her being resisted that idea. Agatha was a part of her, entwined in her essence like shadows in the dusk. To erase that felt like an impossibility.
As she reached the end of the path, the world around her blurred, a surreal mix of dawn light and darkness. Rio paused, staring into the distance, knowing she would never truly leave Agatha behind. But she also knew that to truly honour her love, she had to respect Agatha’s wishes, even if it broke her in the process.
“Goodbye, Agatha,” she repeated softly, feeling the finality of the words settle in the pit of her stomach. She turned away, stepping into the unknown, the ache of her heart trailing behind her like an unwelcome shadow.
She knew Rio would go there to think. To regret her promise (unwilling promise). To cry and sob over her love.
She couldn't go there. And she didn't want to.
Agatha hovered at the edge of the grave, a silent observer as Rio transformed and faded into her afterlife dimension. The ethereal glow surrounded Rio, illuminating the path she took — a pathway to solitude and reflection, far from prying eyes and judgement. Agatha could almost feel the warmth radiating from the place, but it felt like an eternity away.
A part of her yearned to follow, to be near Rio in those moments of solitude, but she couldn’t — she didn’t truly want to. The thought of stepping into that realm, where her love would be engulfed by the shadows of regret and sorrow, filled her with dread. She had insisted on her own release, the finality of their separation, and though she felt the sharp ache of that decision, she knew it was for the best.
She watched as Rio’s form shimmered and dissolved into the distance, knowing that the moments ahead would be filled with tears and heartache. Agatha could picture it all too clearly: Rio, alone in her afterlife, grappling with the weight of her promise — that unwilling promise that had echoed in the last breaths they shared. The image made Agatha’s heart ache, though she also felt a flicker of resolve.
Rio would regret it. She would cry, sobbing over the love that had slipped through their fingers, caught between duty and desire.
Contrary to popular belief, Rio had emotions. Strong ones. Most of them are violent and vicious but others emotional and despondent.
Agatha wished to comfort her, tell her it was okay, that she hadn’t truly meant for it to end like this. But the truth was, Agatha wanted to protect herself from their darkness. Together they were toxic, apart they were worse. Either way was a loss but there was an understanding that this could be for the best.
And in that quiet, haunting moment, Agatha embraced the weight of her choice. She wouldn’t intrude on Rio’s grief. Instead, she would linger here, a watchful spirit, hoping that one day, the sorrow would ease and that Rio would find peace — even if it meant learning to live without her.