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Chapter Text

It was more embarrassing than it was painful, or at least at the moment her wounded pride made it feel that way. It wasn't something that hadn't happened in a very long time.

Oh, she had been wounded and scarred plenty of times over the years, even recently, but no one had gotten so close like that, because she hadn't let them. Closer than even weapons usually brought her to her foes.

Gazing in the mirror, The Ancient One delicately touched the skin of her throat, which was now colored deep purples and blacks in the shape of handprints. The damage wouldn't be permanent and it was better to let it heal aside from the basic spells used in the beginning. Still, it hurt and her vocal cords were bruised, meaning it would be a time before she could speak.

She remembered the looks on the faces of her sorcerers when they had managed to free her, the absolute shock. She was the Sorcerer Supreme, she did not get hurt like that. Did not get caught unawares in such a manner. Did not allow anyone to get close enough to do so. It seemed to have shaken them, that such a thing could happen to the Sorcerer Supreme. And it shocked her too, though not specifically because she was the Sorcerer Supreme.

The other masters were handling a good deal of her duties at the moment, because even though she knew many forms of sign language, many of them did not, and that made conversations hard. The collars of her robes were also not high enough to hide the bruises, and before she had delegated things to the others, she had noticed how often eyes went there, how many times they stared at the marks upon her skin showing that the Sorcerer Supreme was as vulnerable as the rest of them.

It had been a simple mistake. A misstep. Not paying attention, really. Fighting a group who thought they could control what they could not- of course- and she had gotten in the thick of it, surrounded on all sides. As she had deflected the weapon of one and cast him back, another had come up behind her and wrapped his hands around her throat, choking her.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel those large, rough hands around her throat, pressing hard into her skin, trying to choke the life from her. The angle wrong for a spell that would not do worse damage to her than to him, lights popping behind her eyes as those hands crushed, stealing her breath before she could regain it.

She shuddered and took a deep breath, swallowing and making her throat pulse with pain. There was nothing to be done for it and she let out a soundless sigh, rubbing her forehead as she studied the papers in front of her.

It was a natural thing to happen to anyone. Even with her experience and skill. She had extended her life, but that did not make her invincible. It was embarrassing that it had happened, especially at this point in her life, and it shouldn't have hurt that much on an emotional front, but it did.

Not that she would ever tell anyone, but she had been having a nightmare or two of it. There was just something so... So primal of being held by your throat like that, to have someone try to choke the life out of you while you writhed and fought and tried to find an opening even as your vision flickered, and your lungs screamed. It had unbalanced her, rattled her, more than she wanted to acknowledge, and she closed her eyes, taking another breath.

She knew it did not change anything between her and her sorcerers. She had not lost their respect, despite their shock. If anything, it had made them realize that none of their order were invincible, and they would try all that much harder to watch each other's back.

The fact that some good might have come from this did not comfort her in the slightest.

Later, a healer would examine her and make notes of how healing was progressing, and even before the healer had told her nothing permanent would come from it, she had known there wouldn't be. She had seen herself in the future, after all.

But for now, she did what parts of her duties she could, and when the healer came to see her privately, The Ancient One was ashamed when she flinched from her hands. Alys was always so gentle, but she flinched all the same, not from the pain but from the action of hands touching her throat.

It was a natural response. It had only been a few days. But The Ancient One was ashamed of herself for flinching away from someone who meant her no harm and who had tended to her injuries in the past when she could not tend to them herself.

Alys took her hands in her own and gave them a squeeze, a look of understanding on her face, but there was silence between them, because Alys knew no form of sign language other than the kind of the Masters of the Mystic Arts used in combat.

The Ancient One nodded when Alys spoke and dismissed her as soon as possible, taking a deep breath and putting her head in her hands when the woman's footsteps were gone.
It was late in the afternoon when anyone disrupted her quiet again, and this time it was Hamir.

He was carrying a tea tray, only slightly aided by magic, and he set it down on the table in front of her.

Hello, Master Hamir. The Ancient One signed.

Hello. he returned.

Though he possessed only one hand, Hamir could sign flawlessly, and was one of the few people immediately around her that The Ancient One could have an easy conversation in the language.

It was oddly isolating not to have the use of one's vocal cords in a place where words, both said aloud and traced in the air, were so important, were part of the foundations of magic itself. Oddly isolating because speech, no matter the language, was so important to the human race as a whole.

I thought you might like some tea, along with some company. Hamir said and then picked up the pot, carefully pouring the liquid into the cups.

Thank you. The Ancient One signed, because both would be appreciated.

Hamir was a good man, and she was comfortable around him like she was only a handful of people, but she still felt embarrassed when she saw his eyes flick down to her bruises for a moment. She took the cup and surprised herself by looking away. He had not been there, but now, all of Kamar-Taj knew what had happened. Such things spread like wildfire through this place.

There is no reason to be embarrassed. It is something that could happen to anyone. Hamir said, setting his cup down.

I have not been 'anyone' for a long time, Hamir. And even without being the Sorcerer Supreme, with my skill and experience, it is... Nothing something that is expected to happen. The Ancient One countered.

You forget your own teachings. Hamir scolded her, giving her a severe look over the rims of his glasses.

He was right, however. She was forgetting some of her teachings. She always reminded her students that no matter how skilled or experienced someone was, mistakes happened, they were natural, and there was nothing to be done for it. They happened to anyone, even to the Sorcerer Supreme, even to her.

For the first time in a long time, not only was her body hurt, so was her pride, and The Ancient One was not quite sure how to handle it. She did have pride, despite everything.

I know. she signed, sighing again.

Though it hurt, both her pride and her body. It would take time for both to recover, and she was not so proud as to not acknowledge that. But for now, sitting here with Hamir and acknowledging to someone what truly hurt, made it hurt just a little less.

Chapter Text

It had been some time since Kaecilius had come to Kamar-Taj, a place of healing, a place that collected broken things.

He could see that in the faces of his fellow sorcerers and sometimes their bodies, in expressions and scars and body language. He was an observant man. He watched more than he spoke, and he had few friends in Kamar-Taj, but he felt the ones he had were enough.

Daniel, Wong, Tina, Mordo. Four was a good number. A balanced number. And he had never had many people, truth be told. Family that had died, friends he had drifted away from. And... Adria.

She was a constant thought on his mind, every night as he drifted off. He pictured her face, heard her voice, and he tried not to do that, because even though he was determined to find a way to fix what had happened, he knew he would not heal if he lingered on that day on Nyhavn, if he thought of the months he had spent in the hospital, hoping, praying, longing... Tragedy after tragedy hitting him again and again.

Some days, he forgot what had brought him here. How had he ended up in Nepal the first place? A mix of memories, alcohol, and needing to get away from Copenhagen, to somewhere that was just so different. He remembered Adria talking of places she would like to visit one day, and Nepal had been one of them.

He had been lucky that Mordo had found him (that The Ancient One had sent him to find him). He was not sure where he would be know if he hadn't. No, that wasn't true. He did know. A mouthful of pills, a slit of the wrist, a leap into water that called to him, some drunken mistake he could never come back from. Before now, before here, it had seemed like the only way to stop the pain. It was the only way to be with Adria again.

But now, he knew, somehow, because of the wondrous things he had been shown here, the things he learned, there must be some way. If only he could talk to her one last time. Not see her collapse in front of him and watch as she wasted away in a hospital bed, still as a doll, in front of him. One last moment with her, of happiness, not of pain and grief and tears. Their son, too. A chance for something he had never gotten, that none of them had.

First, however, he could not achieve any of those things if he did not take care of himself. He knew Adria would have been ashamed of him. And there was something cathartic about the training, of learning weapons and martial arts, meditation and magic, like it could bleed the pain from his veins until he could breathe again.

Today, Kaecilius was training with Mordo, Tina, and Daniel, testing his skills against groups of foes, and he had instructed them not to go easy on him. Injury was not allowed in training, not on purpose, but welts and bruises were nothing. They were part of life. He could take them and bore them with pride, proof that he had learned something, that his skills were growing.

Staves whistled toward him and Kaecilius dodged, deflecting one with one of the short scythe daggers he used, casting a spell one-handed and knocking Tina back. In a turn, he had sheathed the daggers at his back and spun, forming a cat's cradle of dimensional energy, sparks flying as Daniel brought his staff down with enough force to crack a skull. Kaecilius refused to go down and though Daniel weighed more than him and was stronger, being lighter and quicker (they were close enough in height it didn't matter) gave Kaecilius an advantage, even over a more skilled master. He dodged beneath his swing and came up behind him, kicking the bundle of nerves in the back of his knee, felling him like a tree. Next came Tina and she could pull the same tricks on him he had just used on Daniel, but she did have a tendency to attack from the left, leaving an opening that he took easy advantage of. She was 'dead' before she realized what he had done.

Mordo was the real challenge. He had taught Kaecilius much of what he knew, alongside The Ancient One, and he was also using the Staff of Living Tribunal and the Flying Boots of Valtorr, which Kaecilius privately thought was unfair at times, but he did need to learn to fight against unexpected things.

He had yet to beat Mordo when he used both, but today, Kaecilius was determined to change that. When Mordo leapt into the air, moving with the grace of a figure skater on the platforms created by the Boots, he pulled out the Staff and extended it, intending to coil it around Kaecilius's ankle and rip him off his feet.

Kaecilius was ready for it this time and he picked up a fallen staff, using it to block the whip-like transformation, and it coiled around the length. Bracing himself, Kaecilius pulled with all his might, and the tension was unexpected, ripping Mordo down even as he tried to dodge and pull himself. The man flew into the ground and Kaecilius placed a foot on his arm, pointing the end of the staff at Mordo's throat.

"Yield." he ordered and Mordo paused for a second, then conceded defeat.

"Impressive, Kae. You're getting better." Daniel said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Definite improvement." Tina agreed, brushing off her clothing.

"There are a few things that need adjustments, but I think we can safely say that your next exam will be sooner rather than later." Mordo said, approval in his voice, along with a smile.

Kaecilius smiled back.

Later, after meals had been served and Kaecilius had washed the grime of the day off himself, he was sitting in his quarters, studying the spells that were still giving him trouble, trying to understand what he was doing wrong, when there was a knock on his door.

"Yes?" he called without looking up.

The doors opened and Mordo stuck his head in.

"Daniel, Tina, Wong, and I are going into the city. Would you like to accompany us?" he asked and Kaecilius sat back.

The Masters of the Mystic Arts were not confined to Kamar-Taj, of course, but going off into Kathmandu in the middle of the night sometimes felt akin to sneaking off to do some rule-breaking, and he pondered it for a moment.

"The books will still be here when you get back." Mordo coaxed.

"Well, I suppose I must. If Wong is going, of all people." Kaecilius said; he had never known the apprentice librarian to do anything along the lines of rule-breaking.

Mordo grinned and Kaecilius changed into street clothes with a quick spell; it was a basic spell masters were taught so they could easily blend in as necessary. Then he joined Mordo, and they walked through the halls and cloisters of Kamar-Taj, meeting the other three at the doors that led out into the city. There were no guards or anything, so they were simply able to walk out, and they all had a decent number of rupees on them for whatever the night brought them.

It brought them to a bar, it turned out, and Kaecilius was a little uncomfortable with this. He had been lucky to not become an alcoholic, but he had ventured dangerously close, and since Mordo had found him outside that bar, he had made a point of hardly touching the stuff, even at full moon parties.

Only Mordo knew that part of his past, however, aside from The Ancient One. Everyone knew that he had arrived a broken man and that he had lost all the people he had ever loved, but no one knew the ugly details aside from those two.

Mordo argued against it for his benefit, but Kaecilius placed a hand on his arm and stopped, shaking his head. It wasn't worth spoiling the others' fun and he didn't have to drink. One of them should probably stay entirely sober anyway, as sometimes the way back to Kamar-Ta could be difficult to find even with a clear mind.

The bar they went into was clean and a bit dim, some tables packed, others vacant, and they claimed a table for themselves, drinks being ordered.

Kaecilius ordered a beer, rather than something stronger, and he knew some people glanced at them. Despite all the tourists who came to Kathmandu to climb Everest, their group was incredibly unique, not only in race but in the mixture of accents.

They began to talk and tease, and it was relaxing after a day of training, but Kaecilius's thoughts were wandering. He picked at the label on his beer bottle with his nail and try as he might not get caught up in it, he was thinking of the last time he had been in a bar, incredibly similar to this one (but not the same), and why. Along with why he was training so hard, what had brought him to this moment.

It was one of those days, he supposed, but as the fun and talked continued, it became hard to focus on the fun of it, the simple pleasure of sitting with his friends and enjoying time away from training. He drank his beer, much quicker than he meant to, and Mordo put a hand on his shoulder when he set the bottle down with a heavy thunk.

Wong glanced at him and Kaecilius was considering flagging down a waiter or going to the bar, ordering something stronger, because he did not want these thoughts in his mind right, because it hurt, but ordering something stronger were steps down a road he didn't want to go down.

"Kae, are you all right?" Daniel asked and there must have been some look on his face.

"I need some fresh air." Kaecilius said and shoved his chair back.

He jostled into Tina's chair and mumbled an apology, going out the front door and stepping out onto the street

Kathmandu was awash in night lights and traffic, always bustling, and the nests and tangles of electrical lines were sharp black lines against the purple-black sky, and Kaecilius took a deep breath.

He looked down at his hand, at the wedding ring he stubbornly still wore, because he would never stop loving Adria. He didn't think it was possible. He wore it on his right hand now, but he still wore it, and he shook his head.

He took a deep breath and then another, trying to pull himself together. Tonight was supposed to be fun. It had been fun, until his thoughts had decided to go to the places that he had been trying to keep them firmly away from.

When he felt steady enough, Kaecilius went back in and sat down again, mumbled an excuse or two, and he thought he was fine. He was fine... Until he wasn't. The thoughts just kept coming, kept turning, and he was thinking of Adria, of their son, and it felt like his chest was going to cave in from the pain.

He was, quite suddenly, holding back tears and his breath stuttered, a sob building, and he swallowed hard, holding it down, holding back the tears. He was certain the others noticed. Wong especially. The man was often of few words if they were unnecessary, but he reached out and put a hand on the crook of Kaecilius's elbow, giving it a light squeeze. Kaecilius had to close his eyes against the burn of the tears, holding them back, forcing them back, because he didn't want to break down here.

His pain was not for others. He remembered the crowd at the funeral and the sympathy, the words and the hands and the expressions, and it had done nothing to help. No one had understood. His wife, their son... Just gone.

He gripped the empty bottle of beer just to have something to hold and he was grateful that after a falter in the conversation, Mordo picked it up again, trying to distract the others, and they played along. Wong kept his hand where it was and Kaecilius didn't cry. He held it back, a tight bubble in his throat and his chest, threatening to suffocate him. After a time, he was able to join back in the conversation, pretend that nothing had happened, but it was an act.

It was still happening, locked inside him, threatening to burst out, and he was not okay. The tears kept threatening, burning his eyes, blurring his vision, and when they finally left, Kaecilius was glad. It was all he could do not to run back to Kamar-Taj, but he walked with his friends. He wanted to be alone, to somehow release what was inside him, but as they walked through an empty courtyard, he was struck by the realization it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't do anything.

It would release something, but he had spent years crying and it had done nothing, nothing. He was tired of crying, despite his love, despite his grief, because tears did nothing! They wouldn't bring his family back.

He wasn't sure how it happened. One minute those thoughts were streaming through his head, the next moment he was down on his knees and clutching his head, a headache pounding his eye sockets from the effort not to cry, and he vaguely wondered if that was anything like the pain Adria had felt. The pain they had both ignored because headaches were common, they hadn't been bad...

Kaecilius was aware that his friends were around him, kneeling, asking questions, and their gentle touches were at once both welcomed and suffocating. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't cry either, because it wouldn't do anything and because he was afraid if he started that this time he wouldn't stop, that he spent so much time lost in tears and pain and misery, and he didn't want to feel this way anymore.

"Kaecilius. It's all right." Mordo said and Kaecilius wanted to laugh.

The sound that came out his mouth instead sounded equal parts broken and insane, and he surprised himself with his next action. In truth, he had wanted to hit Mordo, to beat his fists against him because then maybe the man would understand an ounce of the pain inside of him, but his fist thumped weakly against Mordo's chest instead.

Tentatively, Mordo reached out and wrapped his arms around Kaecilius and Kaecilius fell against him, panting, his throat so tight, and he felt hands on his back, his shoulders. None of them were leaving him, none of them had left.

He didn't cry. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He shuddered and gasped, tucking his head against Mordo's shoulder, because somehow, even in all this pain, even if he didn't want to see, Mordo, Daniel, Wong, Tina- They all made it easier for an instant. He could breathe. The tears didn't fall, but he could breathe.

Chapter Text

Despite his studies in the Kamar-Taj library, Wong was not sure what it was they fought. Some kind of demon, part spirit, part corporeal, and there was a group of them. They were ethereal and glowing, various shades of blues and greens, some verging on purple, some near white. The only parts of their bodies that seemed truly solid were their talons and beaks.

They were long and kept changing shape, looking like they were formed of fog or smoke that glowed, their heads owl-like masks with eyes that burned solidly, their beaks and talons cruel and appearing to be made of some odd combination of bone and metal.

There were less than a dozen of them, but they were powerful, and masters already bore marks, wounds that kept bleeding despite pressure and spells. Not only did they use their talons and beaks, but they used magic as well, lashing out parts of their whisp-like bodies for powerful blows.

Tina, Sol, Egeria, Mellark, Li- All masters of experience and rank, skilled enough to handle this. But that didn't account for the students and young masters who had been brought along, the misstep in thinking they were dealing with something else entirely.

They formed a ring around them, like herd animals protecting their calves, not allowing them to fight. Six of them, one for each master, whoever had been deemed skilled enough or experienced enough, and half of them were already injured. The smell of blood was thick in Wong's nose, whimpers of pain meeting his ears.

"We need to make a portal!" Egeria shouted, her thrown dagger striking one of the 'masks' with a metallic ping.

"And risk letting them into Kamar-Taj? No!" Tina shouted back, her staff whistling through the air.

Unfortunately, the beasts could flit in between dimensions like hummingbirds to flowers and move almost as fast. It was all they could do not let the students be injured.

Wong glanced over his shoulder. He could see the ashen hue to Dev's lips, Mayaa pressing down hard on a wound that needed more magic than she knew, on a wound no master could currently tend to because there were not enough them.

"We have no choice." Wong said, using a shield to deflect a blow.

They could not allow a student to die, especially when they had so carelessly, however accidental, dragged them into this situation. Not that it would have mattered any other way around, but still. There was an extra weight of responsibility of pulling someone from a situation you had brought them into, rather than pulling them out of their own chosen stupidity.

Quickly, using mind speak because there was no way to know if these demons understood any of the languages they had between them, they came up with a plan.

Wong, Li, and Tina would lure the demons away and, if it worked, the others would get the students back to Kamar-Taj and send help.

"Now!" Li cried and they burst into actions.

Mandalas were thrown, weapons lashed out with, shields made. The three of them antagonized their enemies, and it worked. They began to lure them away and ran further across the soft earth, leading them away.

If their odd eyes were anything to go off of, they had enraged them, the pulsing light within the masks' eyeholes darkened. Wong threw up shields and tried to bind them, and even in the thick of battle, Li had something to say about this.

"Always defensive, little brother!" she teased.

She was six years older than him, more experienced, more skilled, and Wong had always looked up to her. She was perfect at the Mystic Arts, using them with a grace and ease that he envied, and she was quick with the sword she had made her weapon. The Ancient One's preferred style of offensive magic suited her well, and she had elbowed her way into his training with all the attentiveness of an older sister looking after her younger brother. She knew how to keep him focused in battle.

Teasing and banter, calls back and forth, to know the other was okay, to let the other know they were not alone. She had begun that the first time he had been sent to handle something and had been terrified, the beings sucking all the light away and making it impossible to see. Though it had been risky, the sound of her voice had guided him through that battle, and Wong had come to appreciate it ever since.

"On your left!" he called out to her and she whirled, using a cat's cradle of magic to block the talons.

They grasped the hotly glowing magic and yanked, breaking through it even as Li released it, and Wong hurled a spell into the mask, striking not his intended target but right beneath the beak, where it joined to the body.

A weak spot, then. That was good to know, even it if was nearly impossible to hit. That had been nothing more than a lucky shot; Wong didn't think he could do that again if tried. Not from so far away.

Out the corner of his eye, he could see that the others were making a portal, herding the students through it, and it might have worked, had Dev not given a scream of pain as Mellark hauled him onto his shoulders.

The shrill noise attracted the attention of the demons and some of them turned, diving toward the vulnerable group. Without a word, both Wong and Li began to move, racing to intervene, trusting Tina to hold her own, because Kamar-Taj was on the other side, vulnerable students were right in front of them, and they had no idea the true nature of their enemy.

They fought side by side, moving almost as one, two doing their best to shield a portal, to stop these demons from moving any further, to buy everyone, including themselves, time.

But what was unexpected was the explosion of magic from several of the beings joining together, blasting out like a shockwave, and it hurled them all into the ground. The portal disappeared like it had been blown away.

Wong found himself on the ground and as he began to rise, talons slammed down on his biceps, ghostly wings and a shifting body of fog glowing, a chilling mask of a face leaning down. For something part spirit, there was a shocking weight to it, and Wong tried to throw it off, but it was effectively pinning him. His staff had been lost, and his arms were pinned, and he could not get his hands at the angle to cast before they were pinned by the second set of talons.

It felt large needles were being drive into his palms, but Wong did not stay still. He fought as best as he could, because the portal was gone and his allies had also been knocked flat, and out the corner of his eye, he saw Li. She was up and fighting, running for him, and he yelled at her.

"The others, Li!" he shouted.

Familial bonds should hold no weight in this. He could take care of himself, the students could not. He did not see her face, but he saw her turn, running, obeying, and he vaguely thought that was probably the first time his older sister had obeyed him.

A thought occurred to Wong as he struggled, that if these things existed in both the physical dimension and the astral dimension, then rightly, he should be able to fight them on both. It was a lot of risk to his body, but he did it, astral projecting, finding his soul floating free from his body, even with his body pinned beneath the demon.

It twisted its head and neck in a way that would have been impossible had it had bones and screamed at him, body flowing and expanding, even as it kept his pinned to the ground. On the astral plane, it looked much different. Bigger, more colorful, more detailed, and it lunged its beak at him, snapping at his leg. Wong dodged; it had taken a long time to learn to fight in the astral dimension, but he was glad for the lessons now. He could use magic and he did so now.

Creating a whip, Wong snapped it around a taloned paw and yanked, lifting a weight off his hand, yet also giving the being the chance to strike him in the astral dimension. The talons whistled by him and on the second pass they struck, ripping through his shoulder.

The pain was worse here, burning and searing yet shockingly cold, and Wong realized he had made a mistake. Mostly spirit, it seemed these beings could effect the soul differently than a physical body, but in his body, he was all but helpless at the moment.

Still, he knew he could not afford another wound to his astral form, and he might have to retreat to his body to prevent something particularly nasty from happening. They struggled, magic against magic, Wong doing his best to protect himself, to avoid any more injuries at all costs, but as the burning cold dug at him, he knew he had to return to his body. He couldn't risk having his soul trapped or severed in some way.

He vanished from the astral dimension before he could suffer another blow and the burning stopped, signaling that it was the right decision, but his body was still trapped, save for his hand.

Despite the bleeding and the pain, he used it, crafting a weapon from magic, stabbing at the being. They didn't kill them if they didn't have to, but in this situation, he thought it was safe to say that they had no choice.

As he struggled with the furious being, he heard a scream, and it chilled him to the bone. Instinctively, he turned his head, and even the being seemed to have been distracted by it, and though he fought, pinned as he was, all he could do was watch.

Li was struggling against two of the beings, desperately trying to hold them off as another portal was opened, everyone scattered and injured, overwhelmed, and one of them had hooked its beak into her flesh, yanking. But it didn't rip a piece from her body. No, Wong watched in horror as her body crashed to the ground and her astral form was ripped from her body, the form faint for him in this moment, but he could still see.

Wong fought with a renewed fury, stabbing at the creature, even if the part of it he had access to was mostly on the astral dimension, and though he had been thinking about familial bonds before, those were cast aside, because either way Li was his fellow master, and she was in trouble.

Wong couldn't get free, though. He could only hold off the same thing from happening to him and watch from the corner of his eye as his sister was brutally attacked.

It didn't last long, but it felt like an eternity, and suddenly the portal had formed and even as masters went in, more were coming out, including The Ancient One.

Few had ever seen the Sorcerer Supreme unleash her full power and perhaps this wasn't even it, but she knew how to fight these things, or at least had a good guess. Orders were issued and the chaos was suddenly over, Wong finding her astral form above him, wielding a spell, and she neatly dispatched the being trying so hard to rip out his soul.

The talons and mask fell to the ground and on top of him, suddenly dull and lifeless, and Wong struggled up, his hands throbbing and bleeding along with his shoulder and other wounds, but it didn't matter.

"Li!" he cried, rushing to her side.

She was limp on the ground and it scared him more to see the faint shape of her astral form drifting above her body, limp too. He had never seen an astral form lose consciousness before.

Her skin was cold beneath his hands, even though she was breathing, and he watched as The Ancient One arrived at his side, still in the astral dimension. He could only watch, holding his sister, bleeding and terrified in a way he had never felt before, as she gently grasped Li's soul and forced it back into her body.

Color returned to her skin and perhaps she was less cold now, but Wong wasn't sure. He was shaking, he realized, and he followed orders, helping to get his sister to the healers. He didn't want to leave her, but he had no choice, his own injuries tended to with spells and potions, bandaged once the bleeding was stopped. Healing magic was complicated, to say the least.

When he saw The Ancient One again, he rose, anxious.

"Ancient One." he said, all other words stuck in his throat.

He was too scared to ask them.

She came over to him and took his hands in her own.

"She will live, Wong. I promise you. It will take time and there may be unforeseen after effects, but she will live." she told him and Wong's legs felt like they couldn't support him any longer.

The Ancient One gently guided him over to a bench and sat him down, sitting down beside him.

"What sort of after effects?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Scars, for one. But the ones to her soul are the ones I am most worried about. It is possible astral projecting will become hard for her. Just as a body can scar from physical wounds, a soul can be scarred from ones given in the astral dimension, though not often. Those beings are complicated. Even I do not know everything about them, but I have seen them before." The Ancient One replied and let out a long breath.

"They feed on souls. Ripping them bit by bit and absorbing them. They should have been detected sooner. The souls of those who practice magic are particularly enticing. Projecting could also become painful. But until she heals and tries, we do can not know. Her body will be fine. Her mind and her soul... I can not make any promises on that. But we will do whatever we can for Li." she continued and squeezed his hands.

Wong nodded, feeling numb. Eventually, The Ancient One left him. He remained sitting there and though he wanted to go see Li, he could not move, his mind replaying what had happened over and over.

Eventually, their father arrived, and he checked on Li, before coming and sitting beside Wong.

I'm sorry. Wong said before anything else could be, shaking off enough of his numbness to sign.

Why? Hamir asked him.

I couldn't get to her. I couldn't help her. If I had just gotten free-

Hamir placed his hand over Wong's, effectively silencing him, and shook his head.

It was not your fault, Wong. You know it was not. Whether Li is your sister or not. You could not stop what happened. he signed, studying Wong's face.

Wong knew that, of course. There was nothing he could have gone, even if he hadn't been pinned down. But it still felt like there should be.

She will be scarred, in more ways than one. he said, hands shaking.

She knew the risks when she chose this life. As did you. It will be hard, but she knew them. It was a risk she was willing to take. Hamir said and Wong felt like a child again, being soothed by his father when he was upset.

Though it did not help much in this moment, there was a comfort to this that he could not describe. He wanted to get up, to go sit with Li, to watch over his sister, reassure himself that she still drew breath, but his father took his hand in his, looking at the bandages.

Are you all right? he asked.

Wong nodded, because he knew his father meant in the physical sense. But mentally, emotionally...

No.

Hamir wrapped his arms around him and though their family had never been much for hugging, even though they expressed affection for each other, hugs were not so common between them. But Wong accepted this now, the pure comfort of it, and when he was steady, they moved into the room beyond the white curtains.

Li was still on a bed- a healer told him that she was asleep thanks to a powerful potion- and she was more heavily bandaged than he was. Her skin still bore worrying tones, but it was better than it had been, and Wong noticed a long bandage stretching from just below her earlobe down to her collarbone. The source of most of the blood, it seemed.

His hands trembled as he reached out, taking Li's hand in his own, grasping it tightly. That had been the most terrifying thing Wong had ever experienced and he still felt rattled, still felt scared.

It wasn't until the dark hours of morning that Li woke up and she was weak, from the blood loss, from the damage to her soul, but after the healers permitted visitors to come back, she was sitting propped up, her attention on Wong immediately.

"You're okay." she said, her voice not as strong as it usually was.

No, no he wasn't, but he nodded all the same, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Li began to shake her head, but it pulled at the long wound and she grimaced in pain.

"No. It wasn't your fault." she said and extended her shaking arm to him.

Wong came and took her hand, kneeling beside the bed, and he was shocked to realize tears were welling in his eyes.

"I was so scared. I thought I had lost you, Li." he said, his voice breaking.

Though it must have hurt her, Li leaned forward, wrapping an arm around him, and he felt her press a gentle kiss to his head.

"I was scared, too." she whispered, like it was a secret, and maybe it was.

When he had been a child, Wong had believed that nothing could scare his big sister. But now, as an adult, here in the aftermath of a nightmare, knowing that she had been scared too was a strange comfort.

"But I'm still here." Li said, her hair tickling his face, and he realized that she was still scared, her own tears hot against his skin. "I'm still here."

Chapter Text

When he had gone in search of the others, Karl was not expecting this.

When a whole team didn't come back, especially on a relatively easy assignment, it was worrying, but it also did not warrant immediate alarm. It could have been that things were merely taking longer than expected. So he was sent to check, and he was not scared to go alone.

Kaecilius, Daniel, Paloma, and Hoshi had been sent out to investigate the possible lead of a powerful relic. An abandoned manor somewhere in Europe, where it had undoubtedly become part of some collection that was now collecting dust due to neglect.

They had been supposed to report back hours ago, but they had not, so Karl had gone, and now here he was. Sitting on the floor, hiding behind a doorway in the remains of an old stone manor, clutching the bleeding hole in his shoulder.

He had been relieved when he had walked in and found Kaecilius standing there, as if waiting. He had not expected his friend to turn to him, so oddly empty-eyed, his pupils swallowing his irises, and attack him. No words, no reason given. He had just attacked him and stabbed him, and though Karl was trained for this sort of thing, it was hard to react when someone you called friend attacked you out of the blue.

His shoulder burned with pain, but adrenaline was saving him from the worst of it right now, at least, and Karl listened carefully. He cast out his mind, trying to sense what he could, but there seemed to be some kind of magical block of some sort, a spell, and he was essentially getting radio static. He withdrew and listened, knowing he couldn't stay still, because if Kaecilius was acting this way, if something had gotten him, it had certainly gotten Daniel and Paloma. Daniel was more experienced that Kaecilius; whatever had gotten to him had likely had to go through the man first.

A smart sorcerer would have gone back to Kamar-Taj for help. But if some unseen enemy was enchanting the other masters, Karl didn't want to open a portal and risk loosing it in his home. It might not be visible to the naked eye, which would make doing so even more dangerous. Right now, he wished he carried a knife.

Many of them used staves, a weapon that could injury but also incapacitate without breaking the flesh or inflicting life-threatening wounds, and at times Kaecilius had even been mocked for his unusual use of a blade. Karl was just lucky he hadn't used those instead of magic; he knew they were sharp enough to lop a head off with enough force put behind them.

Right now, he wanted a knife to cut through his robe so he could bind his shoulder, not wanting to leave a blood trail or to lose an excessive amount of blood, but ripping fabric was not so easy, and ripping instead of cutting would loud. Still, he had to make do with what he had, and the rip sounded like a boom of thunder as he pulled shirt instead of his robe. With a hole already in the sleeve, it seemed like the best option.

Working quickly after casting a basic healing spell to fix some of the damage and slow the bleeding, Karl bound his shoulder rather awkwardly, employing the use of his teeth to pull the crude bandage tight, and shortly after he heard footsteps.

A light tread- all masters were taught to move lightly- but there was still a unique quality to it, and Karl believed it was Daniel, given the weight despite the lightness. Coming from...

His eyes flicked to the other door in the room and he slid carefully around the edge of his doorway, peering around the edge, watching as Daniel entered through that door. Was he surrounded now? Was Daniel truly acting as odd as Kaecilius? Karl didn't know and didn't move.

There was something off about his movements, just as there had been Kaecilius's, and Karl couldn't figure out what it was other than his friends just weren't moving how they usually did. It definitely had Daniel too.

Moving quickly, lightly, Karl headed away from the room. Right now, the best thing he could do was observe and figure out what the hell was going on. Once he did that, he might be able to go get help.

He hurried through the manor, and he saw Paloma and Hoshi too, and not just them. Animals as well. Foxes, birds, common creatures to find almost anywhere, all acting oddly, all moving with a distinct pattern of movements.

Some of them were in bad states. Thin, starving, drooling, staggering, as if they were starving or dying of thirst. These creatures had a thick green tint to the whites of their eyes and something red that was most certainly not blood crusted around their noses and the corners of their eyes.

Karl took care to avoid being seen, tried to observe. He had thought perhaps a spell was at work, but he decided that wasn't it. Spells didn't manifest physical markers like the substance crusted on these things. It wasn't the relic, unless they had been very wrong about what it was; this relic was supposed to help with powerful ritual spells.

So that left... What? A being of some sort. Or perhaps it was a spell; witches were largely a mystery to Karl, but he knew their magic was different, and they did use potions of sorts. But how would a witch be able to take out and enchant four Masters of the Mystic Arts? Was it more than one? Or was it some other sort of being?

There was certainly a pattern to the movements; everything was patrolling the manor, but some seemed to be diverting, probably looking for Karl himself. They were guards. What were they being made to guard? That was what he had to figure out.

He flew on the Boots, leaping through the air and taking twisting paths, and he noticed an odd plant growing everywhere as he did. Thinly in some places, thicker in others. At first, he had thought it was ivy, but the leaves were shaped wrong, and the color was much, much darker. He was also certain ivy didn't produce flowers. These did, delicate white blooms that looked similar to oleander but were larger, and some of them had stamins laden with... With thick red pollen.

The color matched what was around the eyes and noses of everything he had seen.

So, it was the plant, then, or the plant was involved. Karl knew magical plants could be strange, do things you would not expect a plant to do, but this... This was odd. He knew fungi existed that took over hosts, but he knew of no plant, magical or otherwise, that did this.

Karl found himself suddenly checking that he had no pollen on him and was grateful he was wearing something it would stand out on, but he didn't find any trace. It likely only worked by inhalation, but he didn't want to take any risks, and if he had already been exposed, he hadn't gotten enough through any means of exposure. He ripped more of his shirt and bound it over his nose and mouth, which felt pretty pathetic, but if there was a spell for that, his brain was blanking at the moment.

He snuck through the house, and he knew he couldn't do this alone, so he exited, going to where he had first opened a portal, where there was clear ground and no sign of the plant. There was nothing here, a startling lack of life, and he guessed the local wildlife had started wising up about the area. Karl hastily made a portal but did not step through, looking at those who had been waiting for the whole team's report or his return.

"What has happened, Master Mordo?" The Ancient One asked; masters Ravi and Li were standing with her.

"I am not entirely sure." Karl replied and hastily explained.

He didn't dare step through, just in case he had any pollen on him, and The Ancient One's expression shifted as he described the plant.

"Some visitor from another world must have brought it when they passed through at some point or another. That is not of our world. You are right about the pollen. Merely brushing a laden plant is enough to send it into the air. It enslaves more intelligent beings and uses them to guard itself." she said, and Li was nodding.

Li had a fair amount of knowledge in botany, of Earth and otherwise, and she was off to the library at The Ancient One's nod, Ravi running off to deliver a message to someone else.

"What is to be done, Ancient One?" Karl asked anxiously.

"It needs to be handled carefully. It is not a plant we can burn out; we must freeze it first. The only way to free them is to destroy the plant itself, and not just its far-reached tendrils. The root plant must be destroyed. We will be able to care for them afterward, but not before. And they will be dangerous, Mordo. Incredibly so. Their brains are now wired to protect the root at all costs. It will have also likely... Enhanced them in some manners." The Ancient One replied and grimaced.

"It will be able to call them all together, at once, and have them work perfectly. It will be difficult to achieve, especially with four masters under its thrall. As soon as Li returns, she and I will accompany you." she continued and Karl nodded.

It did not take Li long to return; she had Wong looking for treatment of those who had been affected by the pollen in the library, as well as supplies The Ancient One had ordered.

Karl refused to stand down despite his injury and The Ancient One accepted this, giving him a pair of gloves that went up to his elbows and a better mask. Protective eyewear was also given, to be safe, and then two women stepped through.

Karl closed the portal and they went back into the manor, The Ancient One saying the 'static' he had encountered was either someone's spell or the result of the relic that was supposedly here.

They split up after orders were given. The root plant was likely in a hard-to-access location, but it needed sunlight and water, and therefore wouldn't be underground. The thicker the growth, the older it was, and that was what would lead them to where they needed to go. They were to freeze only the root plant; an attack on any other part of it would alert it and those under its control to what was going on.

The Ancient One planned to work as a distraction while sending Karl and Li to find the root and Karl knew this was for the best; she was a powerful sorcerer and would be able to handle all four masters who would come after her, as well as anything else.

Staying alert, Karl hunted through the house, and he didn't like splitting up like this, but he knew it was for the best. A huge group of masters descending on the house was also not a good idea; the more people around the more likely it was that an accident would happen.

He used the Boots to his advantage, dodging around thicker patches of plants, but he knew he had been seen. There were animals he couldn't see tucked into dark niches and hiding places he couldn't guess at, and he felt the back of his neck prickle as he traveled further in, toward the near-middle of the manor (of course). The plant was getting thicker, its flowers more frequent, the pollen becoming heavier as well.

It was all Karl could do to avoid the plant and he felt like he was roller-skating through the air, almost, with the way he had to move, because the floor was almost entirely swathed in it, save for a narrow path through it. Had the others gotten this far before they had become infected? He could see some damaged, snapped stems, a few cuts, and he wanted to snort. The only member of the team who wielded a blade was Kaecilius. Yes, he hadn't known any better- none of them had- but the fool. He had likely cut down a swathe of flowers and exploded the pollen over everyone.

A weight suddenly slammed down on Karl from above and he crashed to the ground and into the leaves, grateful for the protective gear The Ancient One had made sure was secure. Red smeared his clothing and his breath was gone, stifled by the mask, and his lungs screamed as he realized Kaecilius was picking himself up across from him.

He had his blades drawn and his eyes were just like before, his face not as crusted as the animals Karl had seen; he guessed the plant controlled its slaves to breathe in the pollen on a regular basis to ensure they didn't escape.

"Kaecilius, I don't want to hurt you." Karl said, pulling the Staff from the holster on his back.

Kaecilius's only response was to dart toward him, blades flashing, and Karl barely managed to dodge, the blades cutting swiftly through a bunch of leaves and flowers. Kaecilius snarled and Karl ran, not away but further in, running spells for cold and ice through his head.

He wondered if Kaecilius was merely a coincidence, that perhaps he had been summoned by whatever it was The Ancient One was doing and come across Karl by accident. He hoped so. If Daniel, Paloma, and Hoshi all came after him, he would either be a thrall of the plant as well or killed. As The Ancient One had said, Kaecilius seemed faster than normal- and he was a fast man- and Karl knew he was rapidly gaining on him, even with him using the Boots.

He leapt and flew over thicker vines and patches of leaves, Kaecilius crashing after him, and Karl was certain he was almost close to the heart because animals started appearing from seemingly thin air, joining the chase.

Kaecilius caught him again moments later, as they entered a large room almost completely engulfed with the plant, the flowers numerous, and a red haze filled the air as Karl was kicked solidly to the ground. Kaecilius coughed, not immune to the dust, but Karl cast a spell, clearing the air, and he shouldn't have done that. It gave Kaecilius the chance to attack him and they began to fight, Karl not wasting his breath trying to talk to his friend.

He wondered if he got pollen in a wound if he would be infected, or if it had to be through the respiratory system. He didn't want to find out, but he would in a minute.

Because Kaecilius came at him mercilessly and he was clearly a target to be killed, not enthralled, and his blade sliced deeply into Karl's rib cage. He cried out in pain and snapped out the Staff, cracking it against his friend and downing him with the pain it inflicted. Blood poured down his side and Karl felt shocked, not from the pain itself, but from the fact his friend has just so severely injured him.

Kaecilius was up again, and they faced off, the animals not attacking, not yet, but some of them had teeth on them.

"Kaecilius, I mean you no harm, my friend." Karl said, cracking the Staff like a whip.

Nothing in the room even flinched and Kaecilius dove at him. They knew each other; Karl had taught him much and they trained together, but that didn't mean Karl was going to be able to save himself from this. Unlike in training, Kaecilius was relentless, and Karl hit him with the Staff and spells as many times as he could, but Kaecilius's scythes forced the fight in close. Soon he was too close for Karl to go anything.

The blade bit into his flesh again, opening a thin slit in his forearm, and Karl hissed through the pain. His knee cracked as Kaecilius kicked it hard, the blinding pain and the injury itself sending him crashing to the ground. He scrambled back, striking out with the Staff, and he got up, swinging it with all his might. The relic cracked against flesh, but that wasn't all that cracked. He was fairly certain he had just broken Kaecilius's wrist with such a vicious downward hit, but the man didn't blink or react, attacking as if he had not taken any injury at all. And though he believed in killing your enemies before they could kill you, that death was something that happened in a fight, Karl couldn't find it in himself to badly harm his friend, especially when his friend had no idea what he was doing.

Unfortunately, he was going to pay the price for that, it seemed. His leg shook, his injured knee unable to support his weight despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he went down on one knee. He had to hold Kaecilius off long enough to use the spell, because if this was the root plant, then without a doubt all the other guardians would be racing this way.

Karl snapped the Staff around Kaecilius's ankle and though the angle was bad, he yanked with all his might. He didn't fling Kaecilius away neatly or as far as he wanted, but he still hurled the man into one of the vine-covered shelves, where he lay stunned.

Casting quickly, Karl worked the spell, and it wasn't a spell that he used a lot, making him pause to make sure he was doing it correctly. He only had one chance. He could hear Kaecilius staggering up, heard his snarl, but he ignored it, and as leaves rustled, he finished. He blew out a strong breath to finish and ice exploded across the room. He had done it quickly, carelessly, and he was blasted with the magic too, feeling ice glaze over his skin as he was knocked over.

Struggling up, struggling to find the fallen Staff, Karl paused, seeing that all the leaves and flowers were blackening, curling, and withering before his eyes. Kaecilius let out a ragged cry behind him and Karl flipped around, looking, staring, and saw that his friend was on his knees, his blades on the ground in front of him.

Soon all the plants in sight were dead, nothing but blackened husks, and Karl swallowed against the pain. He needed treatment. He was bleeding badly, and he knew he wouldn't be walking out of here easily on his own. Still, he crawled over to Kaecilius and realized he had strained his injured shoulder in the process.

The older man seemed frozen, breathing raggedly, and Karl reached out a cautious hand, placing it on Kaecilius's shoulder.

"Kaecilius?" he ventured, a grip on Staff, just in case.

Kaecilius looked at him, looking dazed, but his gaze was no longer foreign, at least, and his gaze was quickly clouding with pain.

"Karl." he gasped, wincing as he moved his arm.

"You're going to be okay. The Ancient One and Li will be here soon." Karl promised and sank back with a groan.

He wasn't going in the field for a bit, that was sure.

He didn't mean to, but he flinched when Kaecilius began to touch him, looking at his injuries, and the man pulled his hand away quickly.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to-"

"I know. I know. It wasn't you." Karl said, but he knew already it would take some time to shake what had happened from his head.

Of Kaecilius's blank look, of the fury and intent to kill in him, of how he had injured him. It was more damaging than any of the wounds, to be attacked like that by someone you considered a friend, even if they had not been in control of themselves.

"I have to touch you. I can slow the bleeding, at least, but I need to look." Kaecilius said and his voice was strangely small and shaken.

He was such a proud, arrogant man that Karl was almost convinced that he was not free from the plant's thrall at all, but he knew that wasn't true.

Karl nodded and gritted his teeth, knowing he flinched again, and there was the glow of spells. The bleeding slowed and his strength didn't leave him as fast, but Karl stayed where he was. It still hurt.

Kaecilius did not ask questions; instead he lay down beside Karl quietly, staring at the ceiling too, which was webbed with dead, iced stems. Karl probably wasn't walking out of here without assistance anyway, and the ice insured that. Their breath steamed the air and despite the layers of his robes and the protective gear, he was glad for the heat from Kaecilius's body.

The others soon arrived. The Ancient One, Li, Daniel, Paloma, Hoshi. Everyone would be okay, though Karl was certainly the most injured. Those who had been affected by the pollen would need a few things to ensure that they were fine, and later, masters came and frozen the entire house before burning it to the ground. Others went around and found the animals.

Karl was healed, stitched, and given crutches, pulled from missions for the time being. It was a few days before he saw Kaecilius again, walking from the library that Karl was heading toward, and his wrist was in a cast, books tucked under his other arm.

"Hello, Karl." Kaecilius said, looking almost awkward.

"Hello." Karl said and they exchanged some small talk, Karl latching onto the subject of the books beneath Kaecilius's arm.

However, when Kaecilius reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, the move made Karl flinch, and he knew that hurt them both.

Kaecilius dropped his hand limply and nodded stiffly, walking away without another word. Karl did the same.

Chapter Text

There was someone in the Sanctum. There shouldn't have been anyone else here, and the Sanctum hadn't alerted him to anything.

Daniel could have sworn he had seen someone, though, and he searched the old house physically and with magic, just to be sure. No one.

Had it been someone messing around in the astral dimension? Not unheard of and would explain why the wards hadn't detected anything. Or... Maybe it was a ghost.

Ghosts were such a complicated subject among the Masters of Kamar-Taj. Some of them believed in them, others didn't, and proof was difficult, in all honesty. Different belief systems also played in there, and Daniel's own belief system was... Complicated.

But he did believe in the possibility of ghosts. He did not, however, believe the Sanctum was haunted. He would have noticed by now.

In the end, he shook his head, deciding perhaps he had seen a curtain move or light reflecting off something.

It wasn't the end of that, however.

Late in the evening, as he was doing laundry, he saw something move among the cells and he paused, feeling the back of his neck prickle. He dropped the laundry in the basket and used magic to summon his staff, beginning to investigate the movement cautiously, curiously. He cast a spell, but it detected nothing, and his search found nothing, either. Nothing was in the cells.

Shaking his head, Daniel finished the laundry and went upstairs and nearly jumped out of his skin when arms suddenly wrapped around him. Quick as lightning, his elbow snapped back and slammed into a sternum, and the arms released, someone hitting the floor. He whirled and then gasped.

"Vishanti, Kae, I'm sorry." he said, horrified.

The other man was sprawled on the floor and clutching his chest, heaving for air, and he sat up a moment later with a glower.

"The great Daniel Drumm caught by surprise? This is quite something." Kaecilius said, but he looked a little disgruntled.

"I thought something was in the Sanctum." Daniel said, feeling foolish.

He pulled Kaecilius to his feet and hoped he hadn't injured him too badly.

"That was likely me." Kaecilius said.

"You were in the basement a few minutes ago?" Daniel asked, feeling annoyance already rising.

"No, I was not. I was looking for you upstairs." Kaecilius said, shaking his head.

"Then it wasn't you." Daniel said, frowning.

"Perhaps you are overworked. You Sanctum Masters are often running around. And we all know you like to help out around the neighborhood." Kaecilius said, dismissing it.

He wasn't trying to be mean, but maybe he was right. He had been working a lot lately. Kaecilius rested a hand on his bare arm.

"I think tea is order, hmm? A meal as well. Perhaps a shower." he said and headed toward the kitchen without waiting for a response.

Daniel followed him and shared tea and dinner with him, welcoming a home-cooked meal. He had been going out into the city to eat or buying something that required little effort from the local bodega a little too often lately. Kaecilius was a good cook, and his company was good as well.

He was an arrogant and proud man, but underneath that was someone worth knowing. Kamar-Taj did need a refresher sometimes, someone who asked questions and challenged things, but sometimes Kaecilius was just a little too bold, in Daniel's opinion. He knew some of it was a mask, a type of armor, masking the pain he carried buried in his heart. Still, he was good company, and Daniel did care for him.

They ate dinner and spent some time together, Kaecilius enthusiastically browsing the library, always hungry for knowledge he might not necessarily be ready for. The masters' library held the real danger, so Daniel allowed him to browse the books in the Sanctum library, as he knew Kaecilius couldn't actually access the truly dangerous ones- those were for the handling of select masters only.

He asked a million questions, as curious as a child, and Daniel answered the ones he could, knowing, inevitably, Kaecilius was going to try a spell he shouldn't. Daniel could lecture him all he wanted, but it was going to happen, and he would let it. Maybe then it would teach him something for his arrogance.

He left for the night, leaving a gentle kiss on Daniel's lips, and Daniel went to bed early. Kaecilius was right; he had been working too hard lately.

In the middle night, though, Daniel woke, and he could not figure out what had woken him, until he rolled over and discovered Kaecilius was under the blankets beside him. An unexpected but welcome surprise, Daniel adjusted his position, rearranged the blankets, and then went back to sleep.

In the morning, Kaecilius was gone, not even a note in his place. This pissed Daniel off a little, because he could have at least taken two seconds to write on a piece of paper, but then again, Daniel didn't think Kaecilius had meant to wake him to begin with. Kaecilius was a man who was plagued by nightmares and Daniel knew from experience that a companion in the night could help quell them. He would see Kaecilius later anyway; he was teaching a class later and assisting.

When he arrived, Hamir was watching from the steps leading down into the courtyard and Kaecilius and Mordo were ordering the gathering students into position. These were higher-ranking students, almost ready to take up the mantle of master, and Kaecilius was barking sharply at one who appeared to be having a malfunction with their robes.

Daniel went over to assist and then stepped back, stopping next to the other man.

"You didn't have to sneak out, Kae." he said as they waited for the last students to arrive.

"I do not sneak." Kaecilius huffed.

"You could have woken me. I don't mind having company for breakfast. And if you had a nightmare, I would have been happy to talk about it." Daniel said, still slightly annoyed.

Kaecilius turned his head slowly to look at him.

"Daniel, what on Earth are you talking about?" he demanded.

"I know you came to the Sanctum last night. I woke up after you got into bed."

"That is a clever trick, then, considering I was in my rooms and meditating until midnight, when I went to bed." Kaecilius said and now Daniel was frowning at him.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I am. Why would I lie?" Kaecilius said, now getting annoyed.

"It must have been a dream, then." Daniel said, frowning, but it had seemed very vivid for a dream.

He had touched Kaecilius, felt his warmth, smelt him. He had never had a dream so vivid.

Kaecilius nodded, but the students had arrived and the bell was tolling across the city, silencing their talk. They focused on teaching the students and Daniel had honestly forgotten about the dream. He didn't think of it until a few days later, as he was cataloging the relics in the Sanctum.

He saw something (someone?) move out the corner of his eye and he saw the flicker of their movement through the cases. Not unusual; the Sanctums often had masters going through them for various reasons, and students were often brought for tours and to be introduced to relics who might partner with them. They usually said hello, though.

"A greeting is usually polite when entering a place that is not your own." Daniel called out, making a mark on his list.

There was no response and he grew irritated.

"Kae, if that was you, I swear-" he called out, setting the paper down and moving through the cases.

There was no one and he cast a glance at the Cloak of Levitation, which was floating peacefully in its case. He should have known.

"If you have gotten out of that again, you fickle thing, we are going to have a talk. You know why you are in there." he said to it, not unlike how a parent would speak to a child.

It flared like an attacking animal at him, clearly irked, but he ignored it. Was that what he had been seeing the other times? The fickle relic enjoying its freedom and possibly pranking him? It wouldn't be the first time, but for some reason it irritated him more than it had in the past.

Sighing, he went back to work. A few days later, when he swore he had seen something yet again, Daniel created an illusion version of himself and placed it in the Sanctum, while transporting himself into the Mirror Dimension. He was going to catch that accursed relic in the act and come up with a solution.

It wasn't a malevolent relic, but it was mischievous, and very picky about those who attempted to handle or use it, so it was in the case to keep peace. But being an ancient relic that was sentient and had a definite intelligence, it was no surprise that it had figured out how to escape in the past. It was almost like a game, and Daniel knew it was likely bored. But if it would just consent to anyone who was presented to it... He had been so sure it would pick Kaecilius and he had seen the eager gleam in Kaecilius's eyes when The Ancient One had suggested his presentation to it. Kaecilius wanted to fly, something impossible without the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr, already paired with Mordo, or the Cloak.

It had seemed like the Cloak would pick him, even going so far as to move over his shoulders... But at the last moment it had pulled back and put itself away, and they still didn't know if it had sensed something about Kaecilius that meant their partnership wouldn't be good, or if it had just been teasing him the entire time. Fickle thing indeed.

Only The Ancient One had used it since its last master had passed, and everyone knew that was out of deep-seated respect for the Sorcerer Supreme. Most relics who had to pick a master allowed the Sorcerer Supreme to use them.

He watched for almost three hours, but the Cloak did nothing. Daniel gave up in frustration and maybe the Cloak knew he was watching, maybe it hadn't been doing anything at all. It could have been a cat, he supposed. They were notorious for getting through all manners of wards, even those placed on Sanctums. But he should have sensed it.

Maybe it was someone fucking with him on the astral dimension. He wouldn't put that past Kaecilius, to be honest, or some students who liked to play pranks. If he caught one of them, he would be sure to punish them appropriately.

He didn't see anything again, though, and was even more annoyed. So Daniel went about his duties for the next week or so, and yes, he did see things, but he ignored it. If someone was trying to prank him into thinking the Sanctum was haunted, he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of seeing his irritation. He was a somewhat newer Sanctum Master, and hazing was something the Masters of the Mystic Arts did do. He was probably being hazed.

Kaecilius came to visit, for company, to train, to borrow books, and for other things. Daniel didn't mind. Others came and went and they didn't seem to notice anything, even if he did, and he was now more convinced than ever that it was a prank.

He was in his study, carefully cleaning a newer relic, when there was a soft knock on the door, and he looked up.

"How goes things today, Master Drumm?" The Ancient One asked, standing in the doorway.

She wore her obscenely yellow robes today and she pulled them off, somehow, though Daniel wondered if this was only because she had no hair to potentially clash with them.

"Very well, Sorcerer Supreme. Very well." he said, putting down the brush he had been using.

"Are you certain? You look tired." The Ancient One asked, studying him with concern.

"Nothing I can't handle." Daniel assured her; he was certainly not going to give her the impression he couldn't handle a little prank.

Whoever was doing it would soon get tired of it.

"If you ever need help, there is no shame in asking for it. It can take time to grow accustomed to the role of Sanctum Master. I have seen many of them, and they have all required help." The Ancient One said, stepping into the room and examining the relic.

It was a recent acquisition and they were not yet sure of all its abilities or, rather, if they knew about them all, but it was certainly a relic, and did not appear dark or particularly dangerous.

"I will keep that in mind, Master. Kaecilius has been helping when he has been here. He has a knack with the relics, even if one has not seemed suited to him." Daniel said, gently cleaning off something old and crusted on the metal surface of the relic.

Being the Master of a Sanctum did make him feel something like an archaeologist sometimes, but it was enjoyable, for the most part.

"You are rather fond of Kaecilius, are you not?" The Ancient One asked, guiding his hand slightly to the side so he wouldn't miss something.

Daniel felt an expected heat in his face at these words. Had they been that obvious?

"I am, Ancient One. He may be an arrogant ass, but he also a good man." Daniel said and she nodded her agreement.

"I do care about my sorcerers, Daniel. I pay attention. I wish for all of them to find happiness and peace. I also hope that they do not hurt each other." The Ancient One said next and Daniel knew that.

He knew she felt a great responsibility for all of those in Kamar-Taj and he appreciated it, even if he thought she sometimes took on too much.

They talked as he cleaned the relic, discussing the Sanctum and some of the students in the classes, and then The Ancient One took her leave, Daniel getting wrapped up in his work again.

Kaecilius began to turn up more, silently in the night sometimes, and they would spend more time together, and share a bed more often than they had before. Daniel enjoyed it, but he couldn't help but think that something was... Off about Kaecilius. He seemed... Happier? More content? Not that was a bad thing, but it was abrupt and strange for him, so Daniel worried something was happening deeper beneath the surface than the other man was telling him.

He knew from experience that prying did nothing but make Kaecilius hold things closer and tighter to himself, so he let it be, hoping that Kaecilius would soon be comfortable enough to come to him with it. He suspected it might have something to do with Adria; he knew Kaecilius was still very much in love with her, and he had not been with anyone since her death.

So he let things be, and the movement continued to plague him, little glimpses out the corner of his eye, or sometimes a prickling on the back of his neck. Daniel was determined to ignore it, though. Whoever was pranking him would get tired of it soon enough.

That being said, he did continue his research into ghosts and asked The Ancient One about it. She had no clear answer.

"Ghosts remain one of the largest mysteries of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, Daniel. Souls can be separated from a body and remain, and yet they are not entirely ghosts, not how they are normally described, at least. They are not usually malevolent, nor are they usually stuck because they have unfinished business. I believe I have seen a few myself, but never how stories of all calibers describe them." she answered, busy writing something up in her study.

"But it's possible?" Daniel pressed.

"Oh, anything is possible. I have learned to expect the unexpected over the years. Why? Do you believe you have encountered a ghost?" The Ancient One said, looking up.

"I am not sure." Daniel confessed. "I have checked the astral dimension and for intruders, but there is nothing. No visitors, no one I could detect on the astral dimension, and the wards remained quiet."

"Hmm... Perhaps it was a spirit of sorts. Or a being as of yet encountered by us. Has anything unusual happened?" The Ancient One said, looking troubled.

"Only that I feel as if I am not alone." Daniel answered, it was more annoying than anything.

"Keep an eye on it. If nothing has happened and it is something, it is likely not dangerous. We do get peaceful visitors from time to time. And if something was endangering you or the Sanctum, she would let you know." The Ancient One said, and he nodded.

"It might also be the Cloak of Levitation." Daniel admitted and she laughed.

"It is a fickle thing. It is an old relic, after all. It needs to have its fun somehow." she said, smiling.

He laughed too and finished his tea.

For the most part, Daniel just continued to ignore it. He enjoyed Kaecilius's more frequent company outside Kamar-Taj and went on missions, taught classes, did things around the Sanctum.

One night as he read a spellbook, he felt Kaecilius wrap his arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to the side of his neck.

"Stop working. You need a break." Kaecilius murmured, his next kiss to Daniel's temple.

"I am busy, Kae. Some of us have Sanctums to run." Daniel said, but the unexpected affection wasn't something he minded.

"And you have a life aside from doing that. Come to bed with me." Kaecilius said, insistent, and Daniel was surprised.

But it wasn't an offer he refused, in the end. Things had been going well with Kaecilius lately and perhaps they had moved faster than expected, but Daniel was letting the other man set the pace. If Kaecilius was comfortable and ready, then he would accept that. He didn't need the wait; Kaecilius had been the one to request it in the first place.

They went up to bed and things went... Further than Daniel was expecting. He wasn't quite sure how they got there. It seemed one minute he was holding Kaecilius in his arms, the next the other man was straddling him, pushing him back, hair brushing against Daniel's skin. It wasn't unenjoyable. It was good, actually, but Daniel couldn't help but think something was off about Kaecilius. Despite his insistence, his gaze was strangely... Blank. Like he was just going through the motions at some points, and Daniel was ashamed that he really didn't think much of that until afterward.

They fell asleep before Daniel got the chance to talk to him about it, and Kaecilius was gone in the morning. If that hadn't been his usual behavior, Daniel would have been worried.

The Ancient One came to talk to him early (or late, he supposed, depending on which time zone you were going off of) and he was surprised by the visit; more often masters went to her rather than her coming to them. But he was a newer Sanctum Master, so he supposed visits were to be expected.

"Hello, Ancient One." Daniel said, bowing to her.

"Hello, Daniel. I wanted to speak to you about the wards that you would be adding today. Make sure you had everything you needed." The Ancient One said, and Daniel nodded.

Adding wards to the Sanctums were routine things, but it was an important day, a solstice, and that meant there were all sorts of energies and beings at work. It was a large task, and the first time, Daniel had had others aiding and guiding. It would be his first time going solo today.

"I believe I am prepared, Ancient One." he said, going through the list with her.

She nodded her approval and offered him a smile, reminding him of a class he would be teaching later before she left.

When the time came, Daniel went to teach, and it was a weapons class, not magic. Students being instructed on how to properly wield a staff, the most common weapon used by the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and Kaecilius was present, swinging a staff through the air.

It was early yet, so no students were present, and Kaecilius glanced over his shoulder. His brown eyes were cold and he turned away, ignoring Daniel. Daniel knew they should have talked.

"Kaecilius, I think we need to talk about last night." he said, coming to stand near him.

Kaecilius laughed mockingly.

"Do we now? I thought you had made yourself quite clear." he said, the staff whistling close to Daniel.

It missed on purpose, but there was anger in the swing, a clear desire to harm.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Daniel demanded.

"Has something happened to drain your intelligence, Master Drumm?" Kaecilius asked coldly.

"Kaecilius." Daniel said, shocked by his attitude.

"If you were busy, you could have told me. I would have accepted it. I would have appreciated... Well, anything, this past week or so. But I can understand silent messages well enough." Kaecilius snapped, thunking the end of his staff on the stones.

Daniel stared at him, confused.

"Kae, what are you talking about?"

"Must I really explain your faults to you? I understand if you do not wish for my company sometimes, but a warning, an explanation, words of any sort would be appreciated. I am not a toy nor a pet to come to your beck and call whenever it suits you. I will not allow myself to be set aside and picked back up on someone's whim, Daniel." Kaecilius said harshly, but Daniel could see the hurt in his eyes.

Daniel, however, was more confused than ever.

"How have I been ignoring you? You have been visiting the Sanctum each day, Kae. And last night... I wanted to make sure you were all right after last night."

"I have hardly set foot in the Sanctum this past week. It became quite clear you were too busy for disturbances. And I was certainly not there last night. I was waiting for you, here, in Kamar-Taj."

Daniel stared, speechless, and Kaecilius narrowed his eyes.

"Just what do you think happened last night, Daniel?" he asked, voice slick and dangerous

"We... Really, Kaecilius? We slept together last night." Daniel said and Kaecilius laughed bitterly.

"We most certainly did not."

"We most certainly did. I was there, and so were you. Kaecilius... Were you drinking again?" Daniel said, thinking of the expression on Kaecilius's face.

He knew the man's prior problems with drinking. He hadn't smelled any alcohol, but that didn't mean anything. Was that why he had been acting oddly?

Rage and hurt burned in Kaecilius's eyes.

"No, I was not. Perhaps you were. If you slept with someone, it was not me. Either it was someone else and you were sorely mistaken, or you were drunk enough to imagine the whole thing." Kaecilius snapped, his fist turning white on the staff.

Before Daniel could say anything, students began to arrive, along with Mordo, and Kaecilius threw his staff at Mordo.

"Master Mordo, I am feeling unwell. I need you to assist Master Drumm in training today." he said without stopping, students clearing a path for him as he strode away.

Mordo looked at the staff in his hands and then at Daniel.

"Lovers' quarrel?" he asked softly.

"More than a quarrel." Daniel said, troubled.

Had it been a dream? Some kind of vision? Hallucination? Or... Had it not been Kaecilius? Glamour spells and shapeshifting were possible, after all, and he thought back to the movement he hadn't seen in a while. He hadn't detected anything, but... He went to speak with The Ancient One after the class had finished.

"Ah, Master Drumm. Precisely the man I wanted to speak to." The Ancient One said, smiling at him when he found her.

"Are you in need of assistance with the wards today? Or have you already done them? There is no shame in asking assistance, and there are masters ready and at your disposal should you need them." she continued.

"I- Excuse me?" Daniel said, stopping.

"I am not doubting your abilities, Daniel. I just wished for you to know there was help available, should you need it." The Ancient One said gently.

Daniel stared at her, and kept staring. This was a different version of the conversation she had had with him just hours ago. Even with her responsibilities, it was unlike The Ancient One to be forgetful.

"We already discussed this, Ancient One." he said politely, but his neck was prickling.

First Kaecilius claiming to not have been in the Sanctum lately, and now The Ancient One repeating a conversation. Something was wrong.

"Have we?" The Ancient One asked with a frown.

"Just a few hours ago. You came to visit me in the Sanctum." Daniel answered.

"No, I did not." The Ancient One said, coming over to him.

"Are you feeling all right, Daniel? Have you seen that movement again?"

"Not recently, no. But I had a strange conversation with Kaecilius just before class." Daniel said, explaining.

The Ancient One looked worried at this, and ordered him to come with her. He followed and discovered she had taken him to the healers, summoning Master Ping, who was skilled in mind magic and curses.

For the next hour, Daniel was scanned magically for spells, curses, anything that might have become attached to him in some manner. There were no results from this and this made The Ancient One look even more troubled. They went to the Sanctum next, and performed various spells. Nothing.

"Are you certain Kaecilius was not lying to you?" The Ancient One asked and Daniel shook his head.

"Kaecilius is an ass, but not in that way. If he is angry with me, he wouldn't make up a stupid reason to be. He is brutally honest, Ancient One. You know that." Daniel said, unsettled.

"Do you think it could be a vision of some sort?" he added.

"It is possible. There are brands of magic that people are born with. There is no way to test for it, either." The Ancient One admitted, and Daniel knew that.

Witches, seers, warlocks, tricksters, all sorts of things. While some were rarer than others, there was always the possibility, he supposed. His family had practiced voodoo, and he had taken an interest, but the Mystic Arts were his true calling. Had he been having disjointed visions of Kaecilius from the future? And had he been seeing what might occur to him involving The Ancient One later in the day?

"Ask someone to stay in the Sanctum with you. Someone monitoring things other than yourself would be for the best. Someone who knows you well and who you trust." The Ancient One instructed and Daniel laughed.

"I am not sure Kaecilius wants anything to do with me at the moment."

"If you believe no one knows you better, then inform him I order it. If this is something else, Daniel, something we can not detect, then for your sake, we need to get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later." The Ancient One said, her voice stern.

Daniel nodded, but first, he had work to do. He cast the wards and spells as needed, and, when dinner was being served in Kamar-Taj, he sought out Kaecilius. The man was sitting on a bench and speaking with Li and Lucius, falling silent when he saw Daniel.

"Master Kaecilius, may I have a private word with you?" Daniel asked formally; they kept their relationship private from most everyone at Kamar-Taj.

"If you must." Kaecilius said icily.

"I must." Daniel said confirmed.

Kaecilius got up and walked with him outside, his arms folded behind his back. He looked at Daniel expectantly.

"I know you are upset with me. I honestly can not explain what is happening. But I need you to listen to me, Kaecilius." Daniel said and Kaecilius remained silent.

So Daniel explained what was going on, the theories and what The Ancient One had said to him, and Kaecilius's anger thawed a little.

"I apologize for my earlier words, Daniel. Are these... Visions... Truly so vivid?" he asked and Daniel nodded.

"I felt you, smelled you, heard you... By the Vishanti, you even left a shadow. I thought it really was you. But if it was a vision or something else... I am sorry I hurt you. There is no need for you to apologize." Daniel said, shaking his head.

"And if this is true, there is no reason for you to apologize either, Daniel. I will stay with you tonight." Kaecilius said, his eyes softening.

"Thank you." Daniel said, glad that he didn't have to tell him that The Ancient One had made it an order.

"Come eat." Kaecilius said and Daniel obeyed.

Later, they returned to the Sanctum, and shared tea. Kaecilius sat in the library. Daniel didn't linger with him, not all night. He watched the news and eventually, Kaecilius came to sit with him. When it was late (in Nepal, Daniel preferred to abide by the time in Kamar-Taj rather than New York), they went to bed. In separate beds, as they were not actually really at that point in their relationship, aside from the occasional time Kaecilius came seeking comfort from a nightmare.

Kaecilius took the room next door and told Daniel to firmly shut his door.

"If it remains closed, then I did not come to look in on you, and I was not here." he said and Daniel nodded.

That was easy to remember.

Kaecilius did not visit his bed that night and was still asleep when Daniel got up in the morning (he checked), so he went down to the kitchen to make breakfast and coffee... And he found Kaecilius already doing that.

Daniel about jumped out of his skin.

"Did you portal down here?" he demanded immediately.

"No." Kaecilius said, and they immediately made a portal.

The bed was empty in the room Kaecilius had used now and Daniel placed his hand on the exposed sheets, but they were cold.

"You were asleep in the bed before I came down." Daniel said and Kaecilius frowned deeply.

"I've been awake for the past half hour." he said and Daniel reached out, grasping his hand.

It felt real and solid, but that didn't really tell him much. Kaecilius had seemed very real the other times.

They checked the Sanctum together, but they found no one and nothing. The wards were undisturbed, there was no foreign presence, and a sweep of the astral dimension turned up nothing either.

"Do you still think it was a vision?" Kaecilius asked, sitting on the main stairs.

"A vision of you sleeping is rather odd." Daniel pointed out.

"Must visions make sense? You can not tell me The Ancient One has not seen the odd and the mundane when she has looked into the future." Kaecilius challenged and that was a good point.

"Maybe it isn't magic at all. Maybe it's some kind of mental illness." Daniel muttered, a possibility he hadn't wanted to entertain.

"It could fit. But it also seems incredibly... Odd for such a thing. Not that I am an expert. It merely seems something more of the magical variety." Kaecilius said, his tone firm.

Daniel wasn't so convinced, but it was something of a comfort to hear Kaecilius be so convinced that nothing was actually wrong with him in that way.

"It will take more than one night to establish anything. I will go to Kamar-Taj and tell The Ancient One what is going on. I will be back soon." Kaecilius said and squeezed his hand.

Daniel did not stop him, nor did he go with him. He drank the cold coffee and Kaecilius was soon back. He assisted with the duties around the Sanctum and seemed to think they were a mix of boring and interesting. He was most interested in the relics at the moment, now. Fascinated by what they could do and such, and he picked up the one resting beside the Brazier of Bom'Galiath.

"I don't recall what this is."

"It's new. I only just finished cleaning it." Daniel said, and it was odd.

It looked more ornamental than most relics, something like a mirror, though according to their records it was some kind of pendant. It was supposed to help with protection and seemed to help boost the wards, which was why it was sitting next to the Brazier in the first place.

"Put it back, Kae. They aren't toys."

"They are meant to be handled and used. If you handled it and cleaned it, then this little trinket will do me no harm." Kaecilius said, tilting it this way and that.

"If it was sentient like the Cloak, it would kick your ass for calling it a 'little trinket'." Daniel pointed out and Kaecilius laughed.

"I am certain you would protect me."

"No, I would let you learn your lesson." Daniel said, and he would.

"Odd. I can't see my reflection in this."

"It is a relic. It is not supposed to act as you would expect it to. Either that, or you have no soul, like a vampire."

"You have been consuming too much pop culture." Kaecilius said, putting the relic back. "The runes on the edges are interesting."

Unfortunately, the 'visions' continued to happen. Over the next few days, Daniel experienced more. Seeing Kaecilius in places he was not. Talking with people who were not there. Twice Kaecilius had to fetch him to Kamar-Taj. Magic or mental illness, he didn't know. But reality was becoming warped. If it was something in the Sanctum, it was not effecting Kaecilius. Daniel decided he needed to schedule an appointment with a doctor outside of Kamar-Taj.

He was talking to Kaecilius about this, worried, hoping that perhaps the other man would go with him; Jericho was busy and Daniel wasn't sure if he wanted to include his brother in this just yet. If it was some kind of mental illness, the odds were that Jericho had it as well, because twins often had the same illness like that. He wanted Kaecilius to go with him because the man was not just someone he was involved with, he was first and foremost Daniel's friend.

Kaecilius touched him lightly on the shoulder, a comforting gesture, and Daniel smiled.

Later that day, Daniel paused as he went to check the Rotunda, as Kaecilius was already standing there.

"Did you do the spell already? I don't want the ocean crashing down the hall." Daniel asked, pausing.

Kaecilius was not moving. He was standing oddly and a chill went down Daniel's spine. Vision or whatever the hell it was, or reality?

"Kae." he said loudly and Kaecilius turned.

He was oddly blank and stared at Daniel uncomprehendingly, Daniel wary. He still couldn't tell if this was real. He felt like that this wasn't real- for once- but he still wasn't...

"Daniel." Kaecilius said and his hand closed on Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel turned, seeing that Kaecilius was standing behind him, and a look down the hall showed him that Kaecilius was no longer standing there.

"Vishanti, Kae." he whispered, but not because the other man had scared him.

No, because he was feeling as though he couldn't trust his own mind anymore, and that made him feel more unbalanced than anything.

Daniel felt a panic in his chest, a tightening, the need to scream, because he had enough. He had enough of seeing things and thinking it was something else, of having conversations and such with friends and fellow masters that weren't real.

"It will be okay, Daniel. We'll get to the bottom of this." Kaecilius soothed, but even as Daniel took comfort in him, things... Changed.

Kaecilius held him, but Daniel felt something press into him, solid, too solid to be Kaecilius. Looking down, Daniel saw that he had one of his blades held to against his stomach, and he almost laughed. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real, because Kaecilius would never do this to him. He almost laughed in relief. The only reason he didn't was because Kaecilius buried the tip into his flesh.

It hurt. The pain was real, the blood flowing over his skin was real, the scythe blade pushing further into his body, and Daniel stared at Kaecilius, shocked. But even shock, even the possibility that this wasn't real, didn't stop Daniel. He summoned glowing strands of magic and began to fight back, Kaecilius matching him blow for blow. Daniel ignored the pain exploding in his body, even forgot this might not be real, focused on the battle in front of him, trying to subdue Kaecilius, something, anything, and he wanted to think this wasn't real. That whatever was going on with him was playing with his mind, but the pain, the blood, his weakening strength, his mind and body told him otherwise.

And then suddenly there were two of Kaecilius, the fighting him with that odd gleam in his eyes, and then there was one directly in front of him, reaching out, unarmed, no magic.

"Daniel! Daniel, it's all right. It's not real. It's the relic, Daniel. Its magic isn't what we thought it was. The Ancient One and Hamir are handling it. It was the new relic this entire time." he said rapidly, urgently.

Daniel could still see two of Kaecilius and he slammed magic into Kaecilius, hard, trying to get them both to go away, because why would this Kaecilius be any more real than the other two? Or why would he be the real one?

Kaecilius let out a muffled cry, but he did not raise his hand, did not pull out a weapon or use a spell even as Daniel tried to attack him and the first Kaecilius tried to.

He reached out and captured Daniel's face between his hands, gentle, eyes scanning his face, and then...

Then suddenly the first Kaecilius vanished just as his scythe would have cut into Daniel's throat and he was staring at one Kaecilius, whose eyes were overflowing with worry and concern, and who he had definitely hurt.

"Kae?" he breathed.

"I'm real. I'm here. It will be all right. It was just the relic. The new one, the runes... It was messing with your mind." Kaecilius said and everything suddenly drained out of Daniel.

His legs felt as though they couldn't support him any longer and he dropped to the floor, Kaecilius going with him, still cradling his face.

"It's all right. I'm here. I'm real. It will all be all right, Daniel. I swear." Kaecilius whispered, resting his forehead against Daniel's.

"I hurt you."

"I'll recover. It's you I'm worried about." Kaecilius said dismissively, but there was pain in his voice, well concealed but not entirely.

"I..." Daniel began, but he couldn't speak.

Something in him broke and he just sat there, tears streaming silently down his face, and Kaecilius cradled his head, whispering to him, reassuring him, and thought Daniel accepted it, he wasn't sure if this was real, either.

Chapter Text

He had gone with very little sleep before. Doing college and medical school at the same time didn't do wonders for a sleep schedule. Neither did residency or climbing your way through the ranks through hard work to become a great neurosurgeon. Sometimes surgeries lasted for hours and he reveled in every minute of it, until he came out and realized how tired he was. This, however, was different. Very different.

He literally could not sleep. His body was being forced to stay awake, and Stephen felt like hell. He wasn't even sure he was getting bursts of mircosleep. He could shut his eyes, but his brain didn't turn off, and even staying still didn't do anything for him.

Of course it was his own fault. It was his own fault and he knew it, and it was some kind of damn karmic payback, but he didn't care about that.

His brain felt like a shaky limb that had been forced to do something for too long and that it might give out any second. He knew how bad it was to stay awake this long. How damaging it could be to a body. But he didn't have a choice.

"I am going insane, Wong. My body is going to shut down or my heart is going to explode or I'll- I'll burst something in my brain. Maybe that would be best. I could sleep then, at least." Stephen complained to the librarian, partially sprawled over one of the tables.

He couldn't read anymore; his eyes and brain were making the words vibrate. But he also couldn't sit around and do nothing, because then he was reminded of how tired he was, how impossible it was to sleep, and he felt ready to scream and throw a tantrum like a two-year-old.

It had only been three days, but soon enough he would start hallucinating and questioning if things were really happening or not, among many other unpleasant things.

"Your body is not going to shut down, nor is your heart going to explode, or your brain. The spell and the potion are taking care of things. The Ancient One would not have left you like this if you were in any true danger." Wong said without glancing up from the books he was reshelving.

"And you brought this on yourself, Strange. You have been told before not to use spells you have not been deemed ready for. One would think you had learned your lesson with astral projecting." he added.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" Stephen groaned, thunking his head on the table.

"It is not apology that is needed, it is learning from the consequences of your actions." Wong said and Stephen almost pulled his lips back in a snarl.

"I don't need lessons or scoldings or anything else right now, Wong." he snapped and Wong gave him a look.

"No, I suppose not. You're learning a very important lesson right now." he said thoughtfully, and Stephen groaned again.

"The effects should be wearing off in the next few hours, or tomorrow at the latest. It will take some time to feel better, but you will recover." Wong said a moment later, more gentle.

This didn't make Stephen feel any better. He closed his eyes just to give them a break, trying to trick himself into thinking that he could actually sleep, but that failed. His brain and body refused to sink into unconsciousness. Thoughts whirled around his mind, bumping into each other like leaves swirling down a stream, and Stephen let them come. Of course, the prevailing thought was of how tired he was. He could feel the exhaustion pulling at him like weights and his body felt heavy, beyond his control. The chair was really uncomfortable and so was the table, but he didn't have the energy to move himself.

Until Wong poked him and reminded him that he needed to eat. Between the nausea plaguing his stomach and the headache pounding like hammers in his head and behind his eyes, food was the last thing Stephen wanted, but he was very aware that he needed it right now. So he hauled himself from the chair and staggered after Wong, following him to the hall where most of the students and masters shared their meals.

People looked at him; not everyone knew what had happened (or did they? Rumors and news spread fast in a place like this), but they could certainly see that he felt like hell. Since he had been unable to fall asleep, Stephen had let some of his self-care slip and he hadn't showered in three days, nor had he really bothered to brush his hair, and he didn't trust himself with a razor near his face. He probably didn't smell very good, at the least; he felt grimy.

Wong guided him forward with a gentle hand on his back and Stephen numbly accepted the plate the other man gave him, though the smells made him equally hungry and feel like he had to vomit. It quickly became clear that giving him a plate was a bad idea; between his already shaky hands and current state, he could barely keep any food on his fork before it got to his mouth. He already hated eating in front of other people, but this made it feel worse.

It would be rude to eat with his fingers, so Stephen set the fork down and didn't bother to try a spoon or chopsticks (chopsticks were especially hard now). In the end, someone- Wong? Master Drumm? Someone else?- brought him a cup of broth, filled to a point where he wouldn't immediately spill it on himself. He choked it down and his body was certainly grateful for it, even if he still wanted to gag.

After dinner, Stephen wandered Kamar-Taj. What else was he supposed to do? If he tried to read again, he was pretty sure he would go insane or throw up from the vibrating, squiggling words. He couldn't train and though he had been pretty dumb about some things, he wasn't that dumb. And the last thing he needed was some other side effect from performing a spell wrong layered on top of this.

His head was pounding and he wondered if aspirin would help, then tried to remember when he had last taken aspirin, and how much he had taken. His eidetic memory seemed to be failing him for once in his life, because he actually wasn't sure.

Stephen went to his room and stared at the ceiling, and part of him wondered if astral projecting would bring any sort of relief. Then he decided he didn't want to try that, in case he messed that up somehow. He lay on his bed and while it was comfortable and his body relaxed against it, it didn't do anything for him.

He tried messing around on the internet for a while, but the light from the screen hurt his eyes and he snapped the laptop shut. In the end, he took a bath. The hot water felt good and though falling asleep in the tub probably wouldn't be a good thing, he wanted to. The 'few hours' looked like they would be heading into tomorrow.

By the time the sun rose over Kamar-Taj, Stephen felt like a zombie.

He caught a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror, and he looked terrible. Pale, drawn, ungroomed despite the bath, his eyes bruised, red, and swollen at the same time.

When he went to the healers to get the potions he had been ordered to take, his vision began to get flickery on the edges, and he let out a pathetic whimper. God, he was sorry. He had certainly learned his lesson now. His head was pounding and the potions felt like they dried his mouth out instead of anything else, and he must have looked really terrible because a healer who wasn't even treating him came over to him. A motherly-looking woman, she rubbed his back and let him lean on her, and Stephen felt like an overgrown child for allowing it, for giving in, but he also didn't care.

They did not share a common language, it turned out, but the kindness of a random stranger, even if it was her job to take care of people, about did him in. He somehow had enough pride left not to bawl like a toddler, but only just. They offered to let him use one of the hospital beds, but Stephen declined. He didn't want to sit around and watch the sick and injured come in, especially when there was nothing he could do to help. Part of him also very much hated being in hospitals now, after being cooped up so long waiting for his hands to heal, waiting after all the operations he had tried.

So he slunk out and decided to go to the library again, because even if he couldn't read maybe he could just talk to Wong. Not that the man was one for conversation. Maybe he could just talk at him.

Stephen was walking in the very wrong direction, wondering if the hallucinations had started yet because he could have sworn the library was this way, when he ran into someone he swore hadn't been there two seconds before. Maybe he was hallucinating now, because it seemed next to impossible that he had missed seeing The Ancient One in her bright saffron robes.

"Ancient One." he said and even to his own ears his voice sounded a little slurred.

"Hello, Stephen." The Ancient One said, looking him over.

She did not say he looked terrible or anything like that, but she asked an equally stupid question, in his opinion.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like hell! M-My vision is flickering, my whole body feels heavy, my brain won't stop, and my head is killing me, and everything hurts my eyes and-" Stephen began to stream out.

If he had had any dignity left, he probably would have been horrified, but he only stopped talking because he broke down crying. His overwhelmed mind and body gave up and he just started sobbing like an inconsolable child in front of the Sorcerer Supreme, of all people. He didn't care at this point, though.

The Ancient One touched his shoulder gently and he was surprised when she wrapped her arms around him. They were nearly the same height and he was able to lean on her, the tears and snot pouring down his face without a doubt staining her robes. She let him, though, and the fact that this warrior sorcerer woman, so old no one knew her name or her age or even how long she had been leading them, was holding him like a mother might their child surprised him and made him cry harder.

She didn't say anything, didn't scold him for the thousandth time, just let him cry until he was wrung out. She produced a handkerchief from somewhere and gave it to him, Stephen using it to clean himself up. He didn't return it; he'd wash it and give it back, because it seemed quite rude to return a handkerchief full of snot.

"It will be over soon." The Ancient One promised him.

He said nothing and she guided him to the library. He didn't think when it was over that he would be able to sleep. He thought he might just die (he knew full well he was being a drama queen but couldn't manage to care about that either).

But, as promised, it was finally over late in the evening. Wong had tolerated his presence and completely wrecked behavior for a lot of hours and performed a simple spell to check if the one on Stephen had broken. It had, after several checks, and Stephen almost cried again. Except he felt wrung dry and there was nothing left in him to do that.

Wong had been reading for him, since his eyes and brain couldn't take reading himself, and he indulged Stephen by finishing the last three pages before preparing to escort him to his room with a portal.

"Let's go, Strange." he said, snapping the book shut and going to replace it on the shelf.

There was no response, no mumbled word or chair legs sliding across the floor, nor rustle of clothing.

"Strange?" Wong repeated, turning back to the other man.

Stephen was sprawled over the table, head pillowed on his folded arms, and fast asleep. Even with the spell having been broken for a limited time, it obviously wasn't having any lingering effects. Most of the time when people fell asleep in the library, Wong roused them and sent them on their way.

This time, however, he sighed quietly and fetched a blanket from his own quarters, draping it over the arrogant student's shoulders and leaving him where he was.

Chapter Text

She had thought she had seen every possible way this could go. She had seen every moment leading up to this, every moment afterward, every moment to not being able to see beyond watching the snow with Stephen at her side.

But she had not accounted for Stephen Strange and his endless possibilities, the possibilities that numbered so many that even she hadn't been able to see them all.

As she fell, The Ancient One did not reach for her slingring. She merely braced herself for the impact, her brain not focusing so much on her fall as the pain of the stab wound Kaecilius had inflicted on her. She didn't think alone it was enough to kill her, even with Kaecilius's intentions. He had stabbed her through one of his Zealots, after all, and even with the force and the sharpness of the dark blade, stabbing someone through another would throw off things.

Breathing hurt, though, and she was bleeding. Perhaps not in her lungs, at least not yet, but she wasn't sure.

As she fell, what she didn't expect to see was Stephen and Karl leaping out of the portal above her and diving after her, Karl leaping sideways and down with the Boots, Stephen diving with the Cloak flaring out behind him.

He was diving downward, still trying to figure out how to fly with it, his speed and control, even with Cloak lending its help, messy, and she would never be entirely clear on what happened next. She would be told, but she wouldn't remember.

What did happen was as she fell, Stephen created a whip of magic and lashed it out, trying to catch her, slow her, anything, but they were both moving too fast, even with the magic of the Cloak and the way it could instantly halt someone's momentum if needed.

He caught her around the waist clumsily, slowed her down, but she still hit the glass awning below. Not as hard as she could have, but she struck it solidly all the same, the glass shattering, and she slammed mercilessly into the concrete. Stephen was thrown a little further down the sidewalk from the force and releasing the whip, but he rushed to her side all the same, Karl with him.

She was vaguely aware of them. Most of what she was aware of was the pain. Her body was torn and broken, and her mind was overwhelmed with the pain. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, even in all her years, and unconscious hovered and pulled at her, but at the same time it wouldn't take her completely.

The Ancient One felt Stephen's hands on her, checking her pulse, applying pressure to wounds. His deep voice barked orders she was barely aware of. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and at the moment, she couldn't even slip into the astral dimension to find some kind of relief.

It was a blessing when unconsciousness finally took her, even if it spat her back out and swallowed her up in random intervals.

She woke up in a vehicle, Stephen talking, issuing instructions, voice stern and commanding, as sirens screamed.

She woke up in the hospital, Stephen's hand on the rail beside her, the pain lessened by drugs, his other hand on hers. She was conscious but not entirely there as they rushed her into emergency surgery, Stephen and the doctors he trusted, had once worked with, rushing around her. She could hear their voices but floating in the pain and the drugs, she could do nothing.

It was a relief to finally be able to slip into the astral dimension, away from it all, and face what was coming. Even if she was afraid. She had known this was coming and she had accepted it, but fear was not something she had managed to conquer in her many years. The truth was, she was afraid to die. And she felt guilty for it as well.

Stephen followed her. She had known he would, but she was still grateful that he did. He was confused, furious, ordering her back in her body, seeming to think that her soul returning would make a difference. Even with the drugs, all it would do was bring her pain in her last moments. Here, it was peaceful. With the man who had so many possibilities ahead of him, who was meant to be the best of them, who was finally learning that it wasn't all about him.

"Death is what gives life meaning. To know your days are numbered." she said, and yet she was a hypocrite, because she was here with him, not yet willing to let go.

The Ancient One knew she wouldn't have a lot of time left, and she had to use it wisely. So she told him the truth of it all. It was such a relief, after all these years, to finally tell someone the truth. How many times had she wanted to tell someone? So many masters and friends over the years, she had looked at them and wished she could tell them the truth but knew she could not, for the sake of the future? She told Stephen all that she could.

And she watched the snow with him, holding his hand, taking these last moments, stretched into an eternity, before taking a deep breath. Then she finally let go.

But it was not, as she had thought, the end.

No, she came back into her body in a haze of pain and lights, of words that floated near but weren't exact, and kept flickering back in. She saw Stephen. She heard his voice, speaking to her. She couldn't hear what he was saying. She slipped away again.

She flitted between her body and unconsciousness, and kept slipping into the astral dimension, beyond her own control, her body forcing her out so she could see, try to do something, try to help herself survive. This was not a future The Ancient One had ever seen. But it was almost impossible to see Stephen Strange and all his endless possibilities.

Looking down at her broken body was strange as the surgery was performed. Her skin was lacerated from many cuts, the wound Kaecilius had inflicted on her having turned out to have punctured her lung. She could hear what the doctors were saying as she hovered there, her bond to her body threatening to pull her back and then expel her again. Even thought she was not a doctor, The Ancient One knew this wasn't good. Stephen was right about her dying. The question now was what would kill her if they didn't manage to save her.

The blood loss, her punctured lung, the pressure on her brain, the damage to it, a complication from one of the many broken bones. It was hard to hear, hard to watch. The only thing that stopped her from going to the balcony and watching the snow again was Stephen. His shaking hands prevented him from participating in the surgery, but he was here anyway, issuing instructions, displaying his medical prowess even without a scalpel in his hands. He also talked to her.

Whether or not he knew she was hovering there, she wasn't sure. She stayed beside him, gripping his hand, wanting to tell him that it was all right, that he could let her go, because she had been waiting hundreds of years for this. But he could not hear her now and whether he thought it or not, Stephen was a hero.

The Ancient One watched as her mangled, broken body was opened further and put back together, as the doctors worked on what she was sure was a lost cause, and her body kept trying to pull her back, to trap her beneath the haze of the drugs and the eventual pain. She wanted to tell Stephen to go, to deal with Kaecilius, because there was so little time left, but he stayed despite all she had told him, despite everything he knew.

And then, finally, she couldn't ignore the pull any longer, and she slipped out of the astral dimension again, and for the last time.

But The Ancient One didn't die then either.

She woke up in a sterile room, her conscious floating on painkillers, and she was so confused. Even with the drugs, she did feel the edges of pain, and she heard someone gasp softly.

"Ancient One?" Stephen moved into her line of sight. He was more beaten and scabbed then he had been, but judging by the scabs, he had several days of healing under his belt.

She couldn't speak. Her mind felt... In all her years, her brain had never felt like this. She wanted to speak but the words wouldn't form and whether that was from the drugs or something else, she didn't know.

"It's all right. It's just... I'm going to call the doctor and have them look at you, because they'll want to be professional about this? Then I'll explain, if I can." Stephen said and his words took a minute to register in her brain.

There was... Something hovering out of reach and she wasn't sure what it was, but before it could do anything, the woman she had seen during the surgery appeared, her red hair pulled away from her face.

Her name was Christine. Had she known that? She felt like she should have known that. She was examined, quiet remarks made to Stephen, and then she left again, Stephen saying something that didn't register.

But Wong came into the room and then rested a hand on her chest, and he pushed her soul from her body. And strangely everything felt right suddenly, no pain, no haze of drugs, no... No oddity in her mind.

Stephen joined her, and the first thing he did was throw his arms around her in a hug.

"Kaecilius?" she asked, but she already knew the answer.

"He and his Zealots are taken care of. I made a bargain." Stephen whispered, Wong joining them.

"With Dormammu?" The Ancient One asked and he nodded.

"You brave, stupid man." The Ancient One said and she hugged him back.

The future had been right about him. He really was the best of them all. Or, he would be. He still had a lot of learn. But this was the beginning of true change for him.

"Ancient One, we need to talk... We need to talk about you." Stephen said, releasing her after Wong had cleared his throat.

She nodded, already knowing whatever he said would be monumental, even if she had survived when she was not supposed to.

He led her away from her body, out to another balcony where they could see the city. No snow now, but it was night, and the city lights shown like the missing stars.

"Thank you, Stephen." she said as they stood at the rail for a second time.

"You shouldn't be thanking me. I... Well, most people probably would have preferred it if I had let them die." Stephen said, looking ashamed.

"As I told you before, Stephen, I thought that moment watching the snow with you was the end. I never saw my future beyond that moment. But I also did not anticipate you." The Ancient One told him gently.

"There was... There was a lot of damage. The wound Kaecilius inflicted and the wounds from the glass are going to scar. You could probably get cosmetic surgery for those in the future, though, if you really wanted. Those are the least of it, though." Stephen said and he switched over to a professional voice, which he had likely used when he was a doctor.

She listened quietly to his description of her injuries. Her head had hit either the sidewalk or the glass awning and that had resulted in injury and damage. What damage, they weren't entirely sure yet. Neurological, certainly, but they would have to test things to be entirely sure. It was likely why her brain had felt odd, in addition to the drugs. There was damage of some kind.

Clearly, Stephen expected this to be the hardest news, and he looked at her carefully. In truth, The Ancient One was not sure how to process it. Not yet. It probably would have devastated some people and yet she felt almost indifferent. She was supposed to be dead, and yet here she was, alive.

Stephen described what would happen in relation to her punctured lung- it looked good, but it would likely take two months to heal- and her broken bones. She had a dislocated shoulder, broken arm, wrist, ribs- Really, she was lucky not to have broken every bone in her body. Stephen also mentioned there was spinal damage and his voice got shaky when he mentioned this. He wouldn't look at her.

"It probably happened when I caught you. I didn't think, I just tried to grab you, to save you, and the force of your fall and the whip pulling against you... You likely won't be able walk to again, or at least very well, through modern medical means. I'm sorry." he said, his voice rough and filled with guilt.

"But you can do what you taught Pangborn to do, so there's-" he began to add in a rush, but The Ancient One laid a hand on his and stopped him.

"Stephen. It is all right. Before, I did not even have a future beyond that fall. Now, thanks to you, I do. There always would have been consequences." she told him gently.

She knew he had never really failed as a doctor. He hadn't allowed himself to. And now he felt like he had failed, that feel of failure driving deep into him like that blade had into her. But she would not allow him to blame himself.

"Now that you are awake, now that we know you are stable, healers are coming from Kamar-Taj. They will do what they can." Wong chipped in, hovering impassively to the side.

"Do they know?" The Ancient One asked quietly.

"No. Mordo was too shocked to tell them, and then we had to save the world. Wong and I agreed it was for the best. I understand it now. You did what you had to do. You picked the best future for the entire world. And in all honesty, you've been punished enough already." Stephen said, shaking his head.

She nodded, grateful, and she thought perhaps she didn't deserve the kindness, to have her secret be kept, but she was grateful for it.

Stephen outlined the rest of what would happen. She would be in the hospital, here or at Kamar-Taj, for a while. She would have a lot of recovery, further surgeries, and physical therapy in her future. Depending on the damage to her brain, other therapies would be in order, and she would very likely have to relearn how to do many things. It would be a long road ahead of her.

Neither of them asked, but she already knew she would no longer continue to steal power from the Dark Dimension. She would not draw power from Dormammu. Letting go, she would live out the remainder her life as if she had not aged a day since she had first cast those dark rituals. She would age and die as anyone else would.

And though she had been prepared to die, thought she had wanted to die, she accepted that. It was... Peaceful, almost. There certainly would be a long road ahead of her, with many challenges and hardships, and she would not pretend it would not be frustrating or discouraging, or anything like that. She knew she would be discouraged, frustrated, and likely want to give up at some point in the future, similar to how she had felt when had first learned to use the Mystic Arts. Her many years had made her wise, but they had not made her inhuman.

The Ancient One's life had never been easy. She certainly wouldn't let that stop her now.

Chapter Text

Thanks to Dormammu, Stephen knew what it was like to die in a hundred different ways. Impalement, being disintegrated, strangled, drawn and quartered, ripped to pieces, blunt force trauma, disembowelment... The list went on and on.

Thanks to all that, he certainly knew what it felt like to bleed out, and he was currently doing that rather well right now.

"I warned you, Strange! Breaking the natural law has a price. The bill comes due, always." Mordo snarled at him, trying to scuff out the glowing ritual lines Stephen had painted on the ground earlier.

"Just shut up." Stephen panted, trying to shift his belts to cover his stab wound and bind them tighter.

After all these months, it had been a joy to see his old friend again. Just for a moment, though. Mordo had not sought him for a friendly visit. No, he apparently had some superhero-worthy sixth sense that told him when Stephen was breaking the natural law and had come to stop him. A fight had ensued as he had tried to disrupt Stephen's ritual and, well, here they were. In Mordo's defense, Stephen was fairly certain that the depth of the wound had been an accident, because Mordo had not hurt him badly before or after that. Still, he was bleeding out, and that could make a man feel rather bitter.

He needed to get proper pressure on this wound now, but he didn't think Mordo was going to let him do that. Not without getting caught, defeated, or killed quicker. Throwing up a shield with one hand, Stephen worked on his belts, cursing the number and how complicated they were, and shifted them directly over the wound, binding them tight enough that his breath was partially cut off. That should hold for now. Better to keep his blood in than out.

Still, he was starting to feel a little dizzy, and he knew that soon true dizziness and cold would follow, along with blurry vision. It wasn't the worst way to go. Actually, it was one of the better ones. But he had no intentions of dying today.

He thought Mordo was being a little extreme in accusing him of breaking natural law this time. All Stephen was trying to do was rescue a fellow sorcerer. Given, that sorcerer was Kaecilius, but still. After all these months since what had happened, Stephen had come to decide that being sentenced to be a Mindless One was not what the man deserved, and why should he give Dormammu more tools, more toys, to use against them in the future in some manner?

So here he was, performing a ritual to rescue the man from Dormammu and the Dark Dimension. Because he had learned about who Kaecilius really was, and Stephen understood it more than he would have liked to. Kaecilius had been driven by pain and grief, and by desperation. Mordo had told him Kaecilius was a broken man, had lost everyone he had ever loved. It was only after that Stephen had learned why Kaecilius had done all he had did. He had just wanted to be with his wife and son again.

And, Vishanti, Stephen could understand that. If he had arrived in Kamar-Taj to heal from grief rather than his accident, he might have... Donna. If his place had been swapped with Kaecilius, Stephen knew he honestly couldn't say he wouldn't try to bring his little sister back. Or Victor. His older brother still burned in his mind, though admittedly not as much as their sister did. Or Christine, even if he didn't love her romantically anymore. If he had been different, if things had been different, he knew he couldn't say he wouldn't have moved heaven and Earth or dived into dark magic to see them again.

So here he was, performing an ancient and borderline dark ritual to save the man (not his remaining two Zealots, admittedly, because he had poked around and they had been it just for power and world domination, so no redemption for them), and being interrupted by the man who had once been his friend. But he didn't think this was breaking the natural law, and he didn't think Dormammu would particularly care if he took one of his new toys back. He would get more in the future, one way or another, with or without his deal.

He was certain this would work, if only Mordo would stop messing it up. He wasn't even sure if Mordo knew what he was doing, but he was performing a ritual from The Book of Cagliostro, so maybe that was enough for him.

Belts tightened enough that it would hopefully hold for now, Stephen conjured up a whip in one hand and lashed it out, trying to work the ritual with the other. Even for him, even with all the experience he had gotten from fighting Dormammu for all those years, this was difficult. It was hard to fight someone and perform a complex ritual while bleeding out, but Stephen was determined to finish it.

Rituals like this could be dangerous if left half-done. That would be the real price here. Mordo countered is whip with one of his own, surprising Stephen, because he had never really seen his friend use magic so directly, had only ever really seen him use physical combat or the Staff. Stephen didn't want this to turn into a whip fight (he had done that during training and it was almost stupid), so he dropped his and cast a quick shield, using the time to continue with the ritual. Mordo's whip lashed off the shield and Stephen completed another chunk, getting so close to the finish, but Mordo had taught him a lot of what he knew.

Which meant he did know some of what Stephen would do and dodged around the shield, vaulting by on the Boots and snapping out the Staff like a whip. He coiled it around Stephen's ankle and yanked his foot out from under him, the Cloak the only reason Stephen stayed upright. The next hit from the Staff sent shocking pain coursing through Stephen's body and he cried out through gritted teeth, the Cloak shielding him from another blow.

He landed on his feet and reached up, grabbing the Cloak.

"Distract him." he said, and the Cloak obeyed.

Shooting away from him, their red fabric enveloped Mordo's head and knocked him from the air, Stephen beginning to work the ritual. His adrenaline was pumping through him from the battle and that was not what he needed right now, because each quickened beat of his heart was forcing the blood from his body faster.

His belts were only a temporary solution, not a fix, and he tried not to spill blood on the lines, worried about how that might effect the spell. Magic began to flare from the lines in a very supernatural-movie way and Stephen heard the popping of seams as Mordo tore at the Cloak, making him cry in outrage.

Next stage of the ritual complete, Stephen could breathe a little easier, because he was almost done, he could do this, and Mordo wouldn't stop him. Unfortunately, even with how good a fighter the Cloak was, Mordo was able to overpower it. He snapped the Staff around Stephen's ankle again and flung him away, sending him crashing over the ground. He struck his wound on something, and his breath left him as pain exploded like a supernova from the spot, stealing his breath further even as he tried to get it back.

Mordo came toward him, his boots sounding loud against the stone.

"Are you going to kill me?" Stephen bit out, struggling to get up.

"If I must, I will, though I do not rejoice in it. There are too many sorcerers. Too much breaking of the natural law. I let it go once, Strange, because you were new and unlearned. But you should have learned from that time." Mordo replied and Stephen growled.

He took back his previous thoughts of Mordo not having stabbed him like this by accident. The man was fucking insane. Something had happened to him, too, though Stephen wasn't quite sure what it was. Mordo seemed... Almost like Kaecilius had been. Caught up in his own plans, determined to see them through, no matter what it was or the cost. And yet it was different somehow, not in a way that Stephen could understand and maybe not even one he could forgive.

They began to fight again and Stephen could feel the blood continuing to pump through the ruined vessels despite his binding, and he didn't have long. He had the grim determination of finishing what he had started, that old fear of failure driving him to finish this, because if he was going to die, he was going to die finishing what he had started.

Minutes ticked by as they fought, spell against spell, spell against Staff, Stephen casting what parts of the ritual he could. He was afraid Mordo might mess it up, that some stray magic from their fight might interfere with the ritual and cause something unexpected or unwanted to happen. But so far, everything seemed the same, and Stephen was carefully safeguarding what he could.

He hoped it would be enough. It had to be enough. He hadn't come this far to fail now. But he was starting to feel cold and his strength was beginning to flag, and he realized he might not be able to. He wasn't quite sure what Mordo had hit, in all honesty, and while it wasn't as bad as it could, it was definitely not to his benefit. The blood was still flowing and it needed more pressure.

Flinging spells and gritting his teeth, Stephen went at Mordo with everything he had. He had faced Dormammu countless times, for years on end. He had gotten stronger, he had pressed on despite everything he had endured, and he had served it. Given, he had used a time loop for that, but if could survive that without going insane, he could make it through this.

And Mordo would call him a coward, say he was whining like a wounded dog, but he was not going to kill or even seriously harm his former friend. He had taken an oath to do no harm and while Mordo had, perhaps, been right that he should not have been upset about Lucius, even if he hadn't been sure the other man would die, he would do the least amount of harm he could here. Subdue, incapacitate.

Blood seeped through his belts despite the bindings and Stephen cast another shield, giving the energy and time he could have spent likely binding Mordo to the ritual, because he didn't want to leave it hanging, he didn't want to risk it going wrong.

Chanting and casting the figures, Stephen slammed the glowing runes into the ones he had painted and finished the ritual, the Staff snapping around his throat and cutting off his air. Mordo pulled and twisted and Stephen was brought to his knees, clawing at the glowing relic.

The Cloak flew at Mordo, beating against him, but gave up the attack quickly in favor of hauling Stephen out of the way as the ritual surged with magic. Purple-blue runes spun in the air, written in the same language as The Book of Cagliostro, and Stephen wanted to laugh even though he was struggling to even breathe.

He had done it. Now to see if it would really work, because a complete spell didn't always mean it would work. The powers of the Dark Dimension or Dormammu, or both, might be too great.

And he couldn't focus on that now. Between the relic coiled around his throat and the blood he was losing, not just from the stab wound but from other little injuries he had acquired from this fight, meant he wasn't going to last long. He was down on his knees and pulling fruitless at the Staff even as the Cloak flew to his defense again, and he knew if he passed out, he would not be waking up.

"Mordo... Please..." he croaked, hearing the flapping of the cloak and the hiss of magic.

Black pulsed at the edges of his vision and he was starting to feel cold, magic suddenly bursting from the ritual. They were all knocked back and Mordo mercifully dropped the Staff, allowing Stephen to paw off the coil and collapse. He sucked in oxygen, trying to fight off the black, pressing his hands to the wound, feeling the heat of the blood that coated them.

But he struggled up, hearing the Cloak beating the hell out of Mordo even as he fought the relic off, and staggered to his feet. Was he beginning to feel cold? He wasn't sure. It was chilly anyway, so it could have been that, but he wasn't sure. As soon as he saw if the ritual had worked, he would flee. He didn't like to run, but running was the only choice he had, and he would take Kaecilius with him, because he was certain a ruin between him and Mordo wouldn't end well.

As the magic solidified and then winked out, Stephen almost smirked despite the pain and the shaking of his body, because it had worked. It had worked, because Kaecilius was standing in the middle of the ritual and as he watched the man collapsed backwards, landing hard enough that his tailbone would probably pay for that later. He contorted and cried out, curling into a ball, and Stephen worried with a jolt that he had performed some part of the ritual wrong.

He lurched forward, but Mordo grabbed him from behind, holding him against himself as he had when they had trained so long ago.

"No, Strange. It is admirable to try to save your enemy, but you chose the wrong enemy to save." he said, almost scolding, and Stephen slammed his elbow with all his might into Mordo's sternum.

He hadn't done it this hard in training because that was training, of course, and he was pretty sure he might have just busted some bones, because pain exploded through his joint and there was a sort of cracking sound he didn't particularly like.

Mordo let out a gasping cry of pain, all the breath knocked out of him, and Stephen spun, wanting to rush to Kaecilius and see if he was okay, but he had to deal with Mordo before he couldn't do anything at all. If it came to it, the Cloak could take care of Mordo.

They kept fighting, spell against spell, Mordo conjuring some blade like he had used to stab Stephen with in the first place, Stephen with mandalas. But he wasn't going to make it. Mordo was going to win, because his body was being pushed to the limits and the adrenaline was being his friend and his enemy in ways, because even though as it contracted things it just pushed the blood out that much faster.

But Stephen fought and felt the Cloak settle on his shoulders once again, pulling him away from blows and blocking them, helping him in the way he needed it to most right now. In the end, though, it wasn't enough. He was too dizzy, too sluggish to continue, and his magic fizzled out, Stephen dropping to his knees. He looked up at Mordo and wondered if the blood he was tasting on his lips was from an internal injury or an external one.

"Make it quick." he whispered, though bleeding out would be peaceful enough.

Maybe Mordo wasn't actually going to kill him. Maybe his old friend would call off this madness and heal him. Stephen would never know, because a bolt of magic struck Mordo and sent him flying back, and the Cloak wrapped tightly around Stephen.

It was Kaecilius. He strode by Stephen, summoning another spell, and Stephen idly noted that it wasn't anything like the magic he had seen Kaecilius use before. It looked very much like his own. Stephen was too busy trying not to die, trying to think of the healing spells he knew that might let him fix this, trying to recall all his medical knowledge and wonder if it was worth the risk of unbinding his belts to try to fix the damage.

He didn't see how the fight went, his vision out of focus, a cold seeping through him, and as he tipped, something other than the Cloak caught him, strong hands that were not necessarily steady but supported him all the same.

"Hold still, Mister Doctor." Kaecilius, then, and Stephen tried to speak.

"I told you my name." he slurred, the pressure suddenly releasing from around his middle.

Hands pressed instead on his wound and there was the glow and sizzle of magic, and Stephen vaguely wondered if his astral form was about to be launched out his body. He could help then, maybe.

But it did not and he was not sure what Kaecilius did; it wasn't a fix, but it was enough to hold him now.

Words were spoken, but he didn't get them all, nodding yes at the words Kamar-Taj.

He leaned on Kaecilius, thought the Cloak took most of his weight, and they stumbled through a portal together, Stephen's knees buckling as his vision gave out.

When he came too, he was warm and his head was fuzzy, a haze that kept everything from his mind for a few blissful moments, but then he remembered it, and he bolted upright.

"Son of a bitch!" he cried, his voice ragged, and a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder.

"Settle down, Strange." Wong.

Stephen took in his surroundings as the librarian eased him down against pillows he rearranged with one hand. He was in the hospital of Kamar-Taj, curtains billowing in the breeze on either side, and he groaned. He must have gotten a blood transfusion because he felt remarkably better, but that wound was not the only injury he had received.

A healer was called, he was checked, and then Wong, still in the chair, gave him a severe look.

"You are lucky. You were near Death's door when you arrived here; that spell merely slowed things down."

"I've been there plenty of times before. Went through most of them, actually." Stephen said, trying to smirk, but it failed.

"What happened to Kaecilius?" he demanded, glancing around as if the man might be hiding somewhere.

"Right now, he is being held within his rooms. The high-ranking masters are conferring on what to do with him." Wong answered and Stephen sighed.

"They won't... They're not going to execute him, are they?" he asked, realizing even after more than a year, he had no idea how the justice system in Kamar-Taj worked.

His breaking of the rules had been punished in unorthodox but probably appropriate ways to the situation. He didn't know what murder and dark magic might earn you, but he hadn't been punished for breaking natural law, at least, or for stealing the Eye of Agamotto.

"No, they are not. We do not usually execute people. There is a lot to consider and two debate over. For now, he restrained from doing magic, and confined to his quarters. He has not spoken much, and The Ancient One is likely the one to speak to about these things, but..." Wong answered, leaving that rest hanging in the air.

Despite the months and magical aid, The Ancient One probably wasn't entirely ready for that. Her secret was safe, unless Kaecilius revealed it, and while she could communicate easily on the astral plane, there really was no predicting how the future might go. Stephen was not yet skilled enough to navigate the future as she had.

Wong alone had known what his plan was, though, and while he hadn't helped, he had agreed to support Stephen with the outcome. Even after all this time, however, Stephen wasn't sure of Wong's exact feelings about Kaecilius. But he had told Wong in detail what he was doing, what he was planning, and Wong had not tried to stop him.

He was confident, however, The Ancient One would help. He would do what he could, but the word of a new master, even one chosen to run a Sanctum, probably would mean little, especially when he had never known Kaecilius.

"Did Kaecilius tell you about Mordo?" Stephen asked softly, a sudden sting coming that had nothing to do with his injuries.

"He told us what he could, yes. Mordo fled and disappeared again. You are lucky your spell for Kaecilius worked, or otherwise Mordo certainly would have finished what he had started." Wong said and then the silence stretched out.

Stephen knew that soon, when he was deemed strong enough, a lot of masters were going to come to talk to him, about what he had done, about Kaecilius, about Mordo. But for now, the healer had ordered rest, even if he seemed to be doing well, and that was an order that would be respected.

A lot of unspoken words hung between him and Wong and, after a moment, Wong placed a hand on his shoulder for a quick second.

"Rest, Stephen. Nothing will happen until you are well." he said and got up, apparently deciding Stephen didn't need his company any longer.

The Cloak replaced Wong and as Stephen assured his companion that he was, in fact, okay, he felt confident in what he had done. No matter the outcome, he had done the right thing.

Chapter Text

He owed his life to Stephen Strange, and yet part of Kaecilius wished that the man had left him to the Dark Dimension.

He would have deserved it. He did deserve it. He had killed a fellow master, destroyed a Sanctum, and harmed people he cared about, and people he didn't. One murder and the destruction of a Sanctum, along with the technical destruction of another and the dooming of the world, should have been punished in more ways than... This.

Magical binds so he couldn't use magic, no access to weapons, being monitored carefully, and being treated like a pariah by his fellow masters. It was deserved and yet it felt like not enough. Stephen Strange had fought for him, despite the fact they had not known each other, and The Ancient One had, too, because of the future she had seen the choices she had made to bring them to here... It had been a long, complicated process, and this was the outcome, for now, at least.

Kaecilius did not feel his pain any less. He still missed Adria, still missed Aleksander, still wished to see them again. He had done all that for them... Or rather, for himself, in their names, and he felt guilt for that. What sort of love was that? Committing such crimes and performing such dark magic all because he had missed them. They would be ashamed of him.

Kaecilius spent his days doing simple chores around Kamar-Taj and his old self would have chafed at being assigned student duties, but the work gave him something to do. Sweeping the dead leaves in the courtyards, making tea, picking the fruits and vegetables that grew in Kamar-Taj, and more. It was all good work, work that distracted him, and he felt good for being of use, and tried not to think too hard about many things most days.

Wong, Hamir, Tina, Daniel, Stephen... They all banded around him, too. They did not allow him to sink into depression or anything like that. Daniel, Tina, and Wong knew his past and that he had once been suicidal, and despite everything, they were still his friends. Kaecilius was grateful for them. But still, some days were hard.

He was working pickings apples off a tree one autumn day when he heard the soft thud of boots, and he didn't glance over his shoulder. It wasn't exciting work, but it was something to do and Zarina had wanted to make an apple pie, and he had the time.

"Hello, Mister Doctor." he said, knowing it was Stephen.

His tread was always light, as if the Cloak of Levitation was always lifting him just slightly off the ground, and the rustle of the sentient cloth was unmistakable. He knew what Stephen's name was now, of course, and he called him by the mistake of his name just to annoy him. They were very similar, the two of them, and Kaecilius also had to alleviate his boredom somehow.

"Hello. Are you almost done?" Stephen asked, stopping behind him.

"I should think so, yes."

"I want you to come with me to the Sanctum when you are." Stephen said briskly and Kaecilius turned toward him, whacking his head on a low-hanging branch.

"Why? I am certain after everything, the Sanctum does wish for me be there." Kaecilius said, frowning.

It was an odd request, and he was immediately suspicious.

"Because... Look, I'll explain when we get there, all right? I've talked to Wong, Hamir, Daniel, The Ancient One, and it's not exactly within the rules, but it's not against them, either." Stephen said, twitching his hands as he spoke.

Kaecilius was even more confused, but he picked the last of the apples and went to deposit them in the kitchens, where Zarina actually thanked him. A lot of people didn't often speak to him these days.

He followed Stephen because he was curious and had nothing else to do, and Wong nodded to them as they passed him in the library, heading for the doors of the Sanctum. Kaecilius glanced at the Eye of Agamotto as they walked by and shut down those thoughts immediately. If he had thought, if he had known... No. No, he wasn't going to think like that.

They walked into the dark Sanctum- it was night, of course- and into the foyer, where Kaecilius found a lot of candles lit, no electrical lights on here. Burning runes and symbols had been drawn with magic on the floor in a circle, interweaving, and Kaecilius knew a spell, a ritual, when he saw one. Sitting in the middle of the circle was a book, not The Book of Cagliostro but definitely something from The Ancient One's collection. There was also a knife and a horn, both relics, and Kaecilius frowned.

"What is this, Doctor Strange?" he asked.

"It's Samhain."

"This is not a ward ritual."

"No, it's a summoning ritual. Tonight is the night when the barriers between the worlds of the living and the dead are thinnest. I don't think I need to explain the rest of it." Stephen answered, the Cloak smacking him.

"I believe you do."

"I know why you did all that you did, of course. And I understand it, Kaecilius. I understand the pain, the hurt, and how that can really fuck with your mental health. I won't help you create a place beyond time and I think you and I both know that Dormammu gave you promises that weren't going to turn out like you thought they would. I can't give you your family back. But I can let you get the goodbye you never have." Stephen said and Kaecilius's heart stopped.

"Necromancing." he whispered, understanding suddenly.

"Yeah. I checked with everyone- everyone I knew wouldn't give me an earful- and it's not against the rules, not like this. It's sort of a gray area, which is my specialty. The Ancient One said I could even unbind you. She understands." Stephen said, looking him over.

Kaecilius's heart was doing something strange in his chest, as if it might stop working, or something else. He had tried, he had tried a few times, though he did not recognize this ritual, likely because it had been withheld from him, and...

"If you do not feel you can do it, we do not have to. I just wanted to offer. I did the prep ahead of time, just in case, but the spell hasn't started. I've lost people. My siblings, my parents, and I... Vishanti, Kaecilius, I get it, all right? And I know freeing you from being a Mindless One brought back a lot of pain it erased and since I brought you back, you're my responsibility." Stephen explained, rubbing his cheek.

"I..." Kaecilius said and it was a struggle to talk. "I want this."

The words surprised him and he sucked in a deep breath, but he did want that. If he couldn't be with them again in any way but death, if he couldn't bring them again, seeing them again, speaking with them... It was the best he could hope for. And he wanted that badly. So badly.

Stephen nodded and strode over to him, taking his hands in his own and running a spell over them. The magical restraints broke and Kaecilius knew this was showing a lot of trust in him, trust he felt he had done nothing to earn. He could easily attack Stephen right now if he wanted, and Stephen might be too slow to stop him. But he didn't want.

Stephen began to walk him through the ritual and Kaecilius listened, kneeling with him in the center and reading the book. It was straightforward, as rituals went, and he could read the language. It was not dark, nor was it not dark, and Stephen was right. It would summon their spirits, their souls, allow them to pass through the barrier on this Samhain night, and they would have some time together.

They began to cast the ritual and it involved blood, a sacrifice, a connection, and a way to guide the spirits to whoever was summoned. Nothing but a firm thought of who you were summoning was needed, and Kaecilius was glad, because he had so few physical things belonged to Adria and Aleksander. They cut their hands and mixed the blood together in a bronze bowl, chanting and casting the symbols, drawing the burning shapes in the air, and despite the months as a Mindless One and the months with his magic bound, Kaecilius had not forgotten what it was like to do magic.

He was as good as Stephen, he thought smugly, and Stephen Strange cast like he had been born into the Mystic Arts.

The spell was cast and the last step was to use the born, The Horn of Wild Hunt, and while it was used to collect the souls of the damned, it was also used to summon the dead.

Stephen blew it first and it wasn't exactly a sound that was heard, but Kaecilius felt it resonate deep within him. Stephen passed it to him and Kaecilius blew it as well, feeling the magic deep within him.

He kept his eyes closed and set it down, waiting, the blood, the knife, the book, and the horn all resting at cardinal points. And then...

"Kaecilius." Stephen murmured and Kaecilius was afraid.

What if it hadn't worked, what if it was not what he had thought it might, what if...

"Kaecilius. Kaecilius, open your eyes, my love." a sweet, familiar voice said, a hand touching his shoulder, and Kaecilius trembled.

Adria. It was Adria's voice, and he had almost forgotten it in ways, forgotten the way she said his name like no one else did, not quite as sharp as everyone in Kamar-Taj did but softer, more flowing.

He got up slowly, eyes still closed, and turned around, taking a shaking breath, and then he opened his eyes.

Adria was standing in front of him, looking more like she had that last day than that day, months later, when he had lost her, and she was dressed like she had been then, too. Pink blouse, white jeans. Her blue-black hair swooped around her doe-like blue eyes (everyone told him that he couldn't describe them that way because they were not brown, but he did not care). She was smiling and it was a sad smile, and Kaecilius wasn't sure he could breathe.

"Adria." he whispered, his voice choked.

He reached out and cupped her face in his hands, and he could touch her, though it felt almost like touching someone's astral form. But he could touch her, hear her, smell her, and his vision began to blur.

"Papa?" The tug on his robes and the voice made him look down, and there was Aleksander as well.

He was so small, so young, and Kaecilius felt that old guilt. He had failed Adria, though there had been nothing he could have done to stop the aneurysm. He had failed Aleksander as well, or so he felt. He had been born prematurely and had fought so hard for his life, but in the end, he hadn't been strong enough. He had been so tiny, he had fit in Kaecilius's cupped hands. It had been Kaecilius who had most often gone into that sterile room, because Adria had been recovering, and eventually she had gotten to meet their son, but it had been Kaecilius who had been holding him when he had finally slipped away.

Kaecilius had pictured for years what Aleksander would look like, and he had not been wrong. He had Adria's black hair, but he looked more like him than he had pictured, with the same brown eyes and sharp features, though there was a good dose of his mother in there.

"Are you real?" Kaecilius asked, staring at the little boy, looking to be perhaps five or six.

"Yes!" Aleksander said, beaming at him.

"Spirits exist with our own rules." Adria told him and Kaecilius felt his throat tighten.

The son he had never known and the love of his life. He wanted to sink to his knees again and sob. Tears began to leak from his eyes and Adria used her thumb to brush them away.

"Mama has told me about you, Papa. And we watch." Aleksander said and Kaecilius's heart stopped.

He looked away in shame, wondering why they had come if they really knew the truth. He caught a glimpse of spirits in front of Stephen, but he didn't look, that group on the far side of the large circle, and he didn't want to invade their privacy.

"I'm sorry." he breathed, feeling ashamed of himself.

"You were in pain. You didn't understand how to heal. I am not saying I approve of what you did, Kaecilius, but there is no undoing it. I know there was no way to stop it." Adria said gently and Kaecilius shook his head.

It felt like an excuse.

"Do you understand how to heal now?" Adria asked and he shook his head.

"I miss you. I've missed you both so much. You've gone where I can't reach you and I... And I..." Kaecilius said and broke down into tears.

Aleksander hugged him tight, arms around his middle, and Kaecilius gripped him. He had never gotten to really hold him, either, let alone hug him, and he hugged him fiercely. Aleksander should have gotten to live. He should have gotten more than a few months before coming into the world before he was ready and then slipping away from them. Babies, children, there should have been no way for them to die.

Adria wrapped her arms around him too, binding the three of them together, and they let him cry. They gave him some time, but they would not have too long, and Kaecilius needed to speak to them. He couldn't wrap his head around Aleksander now, but his son was more than happy to tell him about himself. It seemed that he got some semblance of a life now. He was more than Kaecilius ever could have imagined.

"I don't blame you, Papa." he said, suddenly far too serious for a six-year-old.

"How do you...?"

"I've been watching. And Mama told me. I can remember. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Mama's fault either." Aleksander told him, too serious, too wise, and Kaecilius swallowed.

"You should have gotten to live. If I had paid more attention to your mother, if I had done something-" Kaecilius began to protest, vaguely realizing he was trying to argue with the spirit of a child.

"Maybe you can talk to the woman." Aleksander suggested.

"The woman?" Kaecilius echoed.

"The Ancient One." Adria supplied softly.

He had never thought of that. Never thought to ask if there had been a way to stop things, if there had been anything he could do... Part of him wasn't sure if he could take the answer. What if there had been? And... What if there hadn't been a thing for either of them he could have done? No, that was an answer he didn't think he could handle, either way.

He shook his head. Adria held him tighter, and he gripped them both. Oh, this had been a bad idea. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to let them go. It hurt, but it also felt so good, and he tried not to cry so much, because he wanted to see them, to memorize each detail.

He felt foolish for his next words, because Stephen was without a doubt listening, but then again, he wasn't sure if the man understood Danish.

"I'm sorry that I failed. That I couldn't..." he said, thinking of that night in Hong Kong.

"No. It wouldn't have given you what you wanted, Kaecilius. I think you know that." Adria said, her voice suddenly sharp.

He nodded, but he still felt... He just wanted...

"But I did fail you both. If I had just listened to your fears instead of soothing them, then perhaps Aleksander... And if I had listened to you before that day..." Kaecilius whispered, swallowing hard.

He had soothed Adria because the doctors had told them it was fine. A little pain, a little bit of discomfort, that was normal, they said. He had read all the books; it was normal. So often symptoms of something wrong could match symptoms of something normal, until that moment it wasn't. So he had soothed Adria and parroted the doctor's words, and she had called him when he had been at work, saying something was wrong, that she was calling the hospital because it was wrong. He had barely gotten there in time to be with them, and he had stuck as close to their tiny, fragile son as permitted because he never would have forgiven himself if something had happened and neither of them were there.

And then the same thing had happened years later, just before that day on the canal. Adria had been having a persistent headache, so he had given her aspirin and kissed her forehead, arranging the doctor appointment for the next day. The next day. If he had been more urgent about it, done something else, then maybe that was something that could have been caught, too. Caught before she had spent months locked in a coma, wasting away in the hospital, already so far away from him.

"There was nothing you could have done. I don't blame you, my love. Neither does Aleksander. It wasn't your fault. You should speak to The Ancient One because I am sure she will tell you the same." Adria said, her voice firm.

Kaecilius swallowed and leaned against her, a hand still gripping their son. There was so much to say and no way to say it. He couldn't find the words and he thought of all his nightmares, of seeing them again, of picturing their bodies rotting in the ground, and all those times he had wished to follow Adria. He was ashamed to think that it was Adria he had missed more than Aleksander, that she had had a bigger effect on him, but he had never gotten to know Aleksander, and somehow the hurt of losing someone you had never known was lesser, even if you loved them dearly.

Though Adria had been the only reason he had endured that. The last light that could shine into the darkest parts of his soul, the light that could pull from the darkness and make him remember that life had been worth living. Even after all these years, it was a struggle without her, and perhaps it was unfair to think she was the reason she had endured, that they had endured, but he had been so lost without her.

Even as he found a place in Kamar-Taj, even as he tried to love again, even as he sank into his anger and grief and wondered why he just couldn't heal like he had been promised... Even as he lived, he was lost.

"How do I heal?" he asked Adria, because he did not know the answer.

"You live. You remember that we are waiting for you, when your time is ready. And that even if you can't see us, even if you don't know we're there, we are. You've been given a second chance, Kaecilius, and I want you to take it. There are people around you who care about you. It's all right to let go and to live." Adria replied, Aleksander clinging to his hand now.

"I..." Kaecilius choked out.

"Please, my love." Adria said and he shook his head.

Not denying her, but...

"I became so lost without. I know you know that, but... I miss you. I want us to be together. I just... I feel so alone." he tried to explain, trying to explain this tear in his heart that felt like it was bleeding again.

He remembered the drunk nights, the times spent staring the water of the canals, the drinks, a knife, or the edge of a tall building. Thinking that it might just end his suffering, that he could be with Adria, be with Aleksander, that they could be together like they should have been had the forces of the universe not been so cruel. He remembered how it felt when Karl had brought him to Kamar-Taj, and he knew if the man had not come upon him that night, if The Ancient One had not sent him, that he would have died that night or shortly after.

The promise of healing and finding a place, as broken as he was, had been a promise he had clung to, but even as he found healing, the pain and the nightmares and everything else had pushed back, and he had slipped into that dark place only Adria had ever been able to light.

He felt so close to it now and he was trying, but he couldn't see any light now.

"You aren't alone. You know that. And it will be hard, after everything, but the people standing by you now aren't going to leave you. They wouldn't be standing with you know if they were. That man over there wouldn't have done all this if he was just going to abandon you." Adria said, her words true.

He had known that, but her light, that light had always saved him before, seemed to make him truly realize it.

"I'll live. I'll live. I'll try." he promised, because he could not deny them that promise.

Adria smiled.

"I knew you would, Papa." Aleksander said with the smugness only a child could possess.

Kaecilius picked him up and hugged him fiercely.

They had more time than he thought, and he fumbled out what words he could, realizing that they were not ashamed of him. Perhaps disappointed for what he had done, what he had caused, but not ashamed. They still loved him, and he could talk to them, see them, hold them... Soon, however, the ritual began to fade. It was the sort of spell that could only be performed once on the designated night. How Stephen had secured this, Kaecilius didn't know, but he was grateful.

He hugged his son again, glad that whatever forces looked after spirits allowed this, but part of him also furious. Someone who never got to live should get the chance, should be reborn and cast back out into the world. He even said that.

"If rebirth exists, I want you to take it, Aleksander. You never got to live. You have that right. I won't... I would miss you, but I understand." he told his son softly, staring into those eyes so like his head.

"Are you sure?" Aleksander asked and it was not a confirmation, just an answer to his potentially hypothetical question.

Kaecilius nodded and he looked at Adria, who nodded, too.

"All right. If I can, I will." Aleksander promised solemnly and Kaecilius kissed his forehead.

"Good boy. I love you. Oh, by the Vishanti, I love you." he said and for some reason this did not tear him apart.

He had always hoped that rebirth existed for lost children. And he wanted that for his son, if it did.

"Love you." Aleksander said and hugged him tight around the neck.

Then Kaecilius let him go and had to laugh, as watery as it sounded, as Aleksander shouted 'thank you' to Stephen. Then he turned to Adria, and this was harder. He had spent so much of his life with her, and she was the love of his life, his light, the cause of his deepest wounds.

He cradled her face in his hands and she cupped his cheek, Kaecilius seeing the tears trickling from her eyes. He wasn't sure if he could do this. But he also had the chance to say goodbye to her, and that was something he had not had before.

"My love..." Adria whispered.

"I know. I know." Kaecilius murmured and made a strange gasping sound.

"Please, don't come to us before your time. We all will be together, some day. But the universe has other plans for you, and I want you to see them." Adria said, her voice firm, and she placed a hand on his heart.

"You always said I was your light. And my light will never leave you. I will never leave you. Like Aleksander said, we'll be there, even when you don't know. You just need to look for that light whenever you are lost in the dark." she continued firmly.

He nodded and they were kissing, not deep and passionate, quick and repeatedly but no less passionate, both their faces wet with tears.

"I love you, Kaecilius."

"I love you, my treasure. I will always love you." Kaecilius whispered, kissing her one last time.

He was still holding her when she faded away and the barriers between worlds, however thin tonight, resealed, and the ritual finished, all the magic draining from it.

Kaecilius sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. It hurt. Oh, it hurt like the wounds had been carved open again. But there was also... Something. Something in his chest felt broken, like something that had needed to give had finally done so, and he could breathe just a little easier.

They were all right. They were waiting for him. And he had gotten to say goodbye.

He glanced at Stephen, who was smacking at the Cloak, the relic appearing to be in the process of trying to dry its master's tears. Both of them had gotten something tonight.

When they had both composed themselves, or at least weren't crying anymore, Kaecilius managed to speak.

"Stephen?" he said, clearing the tightness from his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

Though she had been practicing magic for hundreds of years, though she had trained hundreds of students and taught somewhat fewer the greater secrets of the Mystic Arts, The Ancient One found herself the student once again rather than the teacher.

Her broken, torn body, repaired by surgery and magic, had healed better than anyone, doctor and healer alike, could have imagined. But it was still damaged and broken, and her mind right alongside it.

She was scarred, but she had long ago stopped caring about scars. The stark marks in her flesh were a testament of trauma and survival, and she had never once looked down on or in disgust or anything like that with someone's scars, not even her own.

What did get her was her broken mind and the limitations of her body.

Teaching someone to channel dimensional energy through their body to restore its use while yours was fully functioning was one thing, trying to do the same to your own broken body was quite another.

As Stephen had predicted and warned, there was critical damage to her spinal cord. She would be able to walk again, to fully function, by channeling dimensional energy through her body. She had not yet mastered it for herself, not in her current condition, and while she was not paralyzed, exactly, motor function in her body had been compromised, and there had been damage to her pelvis as well.

Since she had not yet mastered cleanly channeling the dimensional energy through her body as well as her brain, she could not maintain it as others did at all times, and learning how to do it successfully was exhausting, especially to restore brain function. She knew what she wanted, she knew her intentions, she knew it all, and yet her mind and her body could not come into agreement with it when it came time to do it.

Her fine motor skills were not what they used to be and her grip was often weak, her hands shaking. Her steps were unsteady as well, leaving her to use a cane even when she could manage the energy, just to be safe.

Sometimes words came out wrong or she could not manage them at all. They came out slurred, garbled, or she had to pause. It was like her brain was a box of puzzle pieces that housed the pieces of several and it had gotten shaken up, and she had to piece them together separately before she could use it. Apraxia of speech was the term, and she was receiving typical therapy for that, as well as her physical injuries. Surgery had only done so much. Her body was broken and would remain so, and to rebuild the neural pathways a surgeon could not, she had to practice, physically, mentally, magically, and it was all difficult.

The Ancient One bore it silently, determined to do this, and she knew what would happen, she knew how to do it, knew she could do it given time, but sometimes the frustration gnawed at her like a dog with a bone.

Today she was trying again to fully channel the dimensional energy, and it was exhausting. She knew that; it took time to master it and when you were relearning magic, it was harder still. She remembered what she had taught Pangborn and many others, and she knew how it would feel to succeed, because she had repaired her body in battle that way many times when she had been broken and injured, but this was harder.

Despite all her years, she was still human, still had pride, and still felt frustration, though it was not so much her pride that suffered any more. She had gotten to the point where she could take care of herself well enough, no longer needing to heavily rely on others, and that was what had wounded her pride the most.

Now it was just frustration getting her down, and the effort. Magic always took an effort, but right now, she felt almost like a beginner again, and she got tired much more easily. Hamir was helping her today, one of several masters who were helping her relearn, and she appreciated it, but even as she tried to properly channel the energy into herself, to fully repair her body and her brain as well (which was the difficulty here), exhaustion pulled at her. Her reserves were heavily drained and The Ancient One had to take Hamir's hand in her unsteady ones, shaking her head, because she was too afraid to speak.

He nodded in understanding, and they left it. Her mind felt a little clearer, a little less jumbled, so it had worked better today, but that didn't banish the deep exhaustion that seemed to be etched into her very soul.

It was frustrating, too, because she could not sign clearly to Hamir some days, and some days even her tongue betrayed her, or she did not want to risk it. But he accepted her silence and knew her well enough to interpret her body language, and that was comforting.

He squeezed her hand and told her he would be back shortly, and she was left alone. Something drained from her body when Hamir walked away, and The Ancient One took a deep breath, and then another.

A future she had never seen, a future she could not now. Even after all these months, it was still a shock sometimes. But she had been given a chance to live out the rest of her days naturally, and to watch over those she had thought she would leave behind for longer than she had seen.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the incense Hamir had lit, and it was soothing. Her brain did not have to stumble or trip over itself for this, to bring that sense of peace and familiarity, and actually helped calm her. Scent therapy, Stephen called it, and he had been diving in right alongside Hamir to help her, on top of his responsibilities with Kaecilius and duties to the Sanctum.

She truly got to see Dr. Strange, renowned neurosurgeon, outside of glimpses of the future or from a distance, and though she had told him his fear of failure had kept him from greatness, he had been good. A good doctor, not a great one, was sometimes all you needed.

She knew much of the brain, anatomy, soul, and more, but Stephen gave her a deeper education in ways. She had attended various schools several times over her years, out of boredom and to learn the progress humans had made over her vast lifetime, and Stephen, alongside the doctors in Metro-General, had explained to her the finer details of her brain and how it worked, and how it was misfiring in certain areas.

Stephen was determined, like she was, that the misfiring could be bridged and corrected with dimensional energy. The brain was a fine thing, a network far more precise than other parts of the body, and Stephen had begun to cast figures in the air, magic crafted into a replica of her brain and showing her how the energy should weave into it. Channeling dimensional energy correctly was the key.

Oh, just about any sorcerer could do it, once taught, but channeling it precisely and delicately, to replicate what had been broken and torn, or robbed from a body, was the real work.

Hence her exhaustion. Hence her frustration.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, a door slid open and Stephen entered, glancing around.

"Are you done for the day?" he asked.

He did not treat her any differently, did not mind whatever word might come out her mouth, and she was grateful. So many people treated her differently, and Stephen was refreshing, even if he switched between sorcerer and doctor around her.

She knew part of his help was because of his guilt, and part of her wanted to cup his face in her hands and tell him firmly that saving her, that sparing her from worse, had not been his fault, as she had countless times before. She was not sure how many more times she could say it without exhausting them both, however.

It was always a relief when she could escape to the astral dimension and someone join her, because freed from the constraints of her body, her true self operated just fine, and she could talk freely, even channel magic. She could channel the dimensional energy from the astral dimension freely, but she needed to learn how to do it in her body, on her own plane, and of course she was not as knowledgeable about what her brain needed.

No one could do it for her.

"Yes." she said, the word coming from her mouth slow and slurred, making her wince.

Stephen nodded and folded himself neatly into his chair, so his long legs did not get in the way of the cane propped against her chair's armrest. The Cloak of Levitation had removed itself from him and moved over to her, gently caressing her cheek.

She smiled, though she knew that could seem off too sometimes, and Stephen seemed to be lost in thought at the moment.

"How is it going?" he asked, and she knew he was being careful with his wording.

He wanted to phrase the questions in ways that would be simple for her to answer, so she would not have to frustrate herself or even potentially embarrass herself, and she appreciated that, too.

"Better. Slowly." The Ancient One replied carefully, managing not to slur this time.

Her voice sounded a little strange, but it was better. The therapy was helping her immensely, but time and practice, as with everything, was the key here.

"How do you feel?"

"I... Tired." The Ancient One replied, closing her eyes.

"Do you want me to give you a boost?" Stephen offered, extending a hand.

She shook her head.

"I need to rest." she said, mumbling slightly, though she did not intend to.

"If you're up for it, I've got an idea of how to do this. May I?" Stephen said and she nodded.

He cast a magical diagram of a brain and colored it blue, using the typical magic color to outline the dimensional energy.

"Instead of fixing it all at once, like with your body, instead of flooding every bit with as much consistent energy as you can manage, we should focus on one section at a time. It's not the results we were hoping for, but it could easier and more manageable, and easier to add onto. I know, it's not news to you, you taught Pangborn that, but a brain is much more complex. So something like this..." Stephen said and began to show her a region of her brain.

He wove the magic through like a delicate root system through her brain, repairing and supporting what was there, and then slowly increasing it, letting it spread and grow.

Yes, it was much different than any other part of the body, and The Ancient One had never seen nor heard of anyone using dimensional energy to repair brain damage. Which was making it difficult and exhausting, but she knew, if she could do it, the pay off would be entirely worth it.

One day she would be able to constantly keep the dimensional energy in her body and it would stay there, regardless of her exhaustion with other magic.

She watched Stephen's demonstration intently and she wanted to give it a try. She actually started to, against her better judgement, but even though dimensional energy was drawn from around them, it was much more complex than that. That was why they had relics, after all, and why a sorcerer was not invincible on the battlefield.

She managed some spluttering, weak energy, channeling it into her brain, and for a moment things felt clear, better, more stable, more like herself, even in a small amount, but her exhaustion overcame her and it gave out. It was lucky she didn't let go of what was already in her body.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Stephen said, lurching from his seat and onto his knees in front of her.

The Ancient One knew very well that at the moment, she was slumped in her seat, panting just a bit, and had paled, and she felt more exhausted than ever, the feeling pulling deep inside her.

But it felt good and she smiled an awkward smile at Stephen, who was busy checking her pulse.

"Fine." she whispered to him, touching his cheek.

"Why are you smiling? If you did that any longer, I think you would have passed out. Why do it?" Stephen demanded, scowling.

She felt very much like she was the student and he the master at the moment, which amused her, though she had already learned so much from him.

"I think... It will work." The Ancient One told him, words slow, still, and the corners of Stephen's eyes crinkled.

He refused to smile, though.

"Don't do it again. I don't like hauling you off the floor." he said severely, and she laughed.

She didn't mean to, and it hadn't been because of his words. The look on his face, like an angry teacher, was what had struck her as funny. It had been a bit since she had laughed from pure amusement and the sound seemed to startle them both, but it made Stephen smile.

Hamir soon returned with the tea and glanced between them, summoning another cup, and they had tea together. Stephen helped her to her rooms afterward; she had barely kept from falling asleep in her chair. He offered to help her undress and into bed, but she dismissed him, and Cloak tugged him away.

In the morning, her day repeated in the familiar pattern it had become.

Waking, channeling enough energy into her body for it to function as well as she could manage, having breakfast. Therapy. Relearning magic. Trying to further her use of dimensional energy.

Stephen's idea did hold weight, it did seem to work. But to weave and keep the dimensional energy as it needed to be was extremely exhausting. Even for someone not limited as she currently was, it would have been difficult. It was a broken body and a broken brain to repair and support, not just a broken bone or limbs or nerves. It was more than she had taught Pangborn, and more than Stephen would have had to do to repair his hands.

It seemed that she was in a constant cycle of magical exhaustion, in all honesty. She could feel it weighing her down each day, and sometimes it was hard not to crumble beneath that weight. Even after everything she had lived through.

Exhaustion had that effect, whether physical or magical. There was nothing like pushing yourself constantly to that place where your body and your mind just said, no more.

It was self-preservation and the limits of being human, but it took a tool. It felt like a heavy weight. And it was a weight The Ancient One had to carry alone and become strong enough not to let it drag her down, or this would never work. Even at her age, even with all her experience, she did feel frustrated and worn down.

Frustration with the exhaustion was almost constant, as well as with her mind and body, as much as she didn't want it to be. She did her best to keep the emotions to herself and that was easy, because she had spent hundreds of years doing that.

But when the exhaustion plainly showed, there was always a supportive hand or a few needed words, or a pot of tea there when she could no longer do it. And the fact that it was working, could work, always drove her to it again despite everything.

She pushed herself a little too far sometimes, something she had never learned to not do, but The Ancient One was still herself at her core, despite all the changes she had gone through. She refused to strip more of herself away just because she 'should' be something. Everyone had flaws, even her, and right now, her flaws made her feel like herself in ways her ruined mind was not.

So The Ancient One trained, practiced, pushed herself, and repeated, through the exhaustion and frustration, and today, she really did push herself too far.

For one brief moment she felt it, her brain clear and feeling like all the pieces were in order, at least in the part of her brain she had been focusing, and the feeling made her close her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. But she could not maintain it as needed yet and she found herself crumpling quite suddenly, almost exhausting the energy supporting the rest of her body. Both Stephen and Hamir, who had been helping today, lurched forward and the three of them sort of tumbled together as the men collided, ending up in a heap on the floor.

But her mind was still held together just for the time being and she basked in the feeling even as Stephen swore and checked her, and Hamir touched her shoulder gently to warn her that she needed to stop before she exhausted herself completely.

She let it go and released the bubble of laughter, of pure joy, from her chest, feeling almost like a student again, when magic had been new and hard work and she had finally done something close to right.

Her mind slid back to what it had been as she reluctantly let go, the pieces coming apart, but that was fine for now. She laughed into Stephen's chest despite the exhaustion that felt as though it were coiling around her, wafting around her body with each breath, and she kept laughing until she couldn't anymore.

She was exhausted, and for many more days and weeks the exhaustion would persist, until she finally mastered it, until she had stitched her mind and body back together. It wouldn't be healing. She would never heal. But she could at least be something close to herself again.

Chapter Text

Wong rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache holding steady in his skull.

It was not a hammering headache or a throb, or even pressure. It was like a sore muscle, constantly aching but persistent in the feeling, and it was more annoying than anything. He suspected he might have been coming down with something; he had had the headache for several days and he just did not feel entirely right.

It was annoying, to say the least. He would have to find a replacement to take over his duties in the library, and he hated to do that. Getting sick was inconvenient, for him and for others, but it did happen, so it was something he would just have to accept.

He took his own temperature, as there was no need to go to the healers for that, and it was normal. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something, but the harder he tried to remember, the harder it became. Wong let that go for now and he took medicine for the headache, because it wasn't like he had any other symptoms than a strange headache and general malaise.

Kamar-Taj was busy these days. It had been agreed that The Ancient One could no longer bear the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme, because even though she was progressing with channeling dimensional energy into her body and brain, it was not the best yet and they could not wait for her to recover. So the selection for a new Sorcerer Supreme was underway and Wong himself was in the selection, along with Stephen. Stephen was now in charge of the New York Sanctum, Daniel having chosen to retire after what had happened, but Daniel was in the running too, along with Hamir, Nymeria, and many other skilled and often senior masters. Wong knew his father planned to pull out of the selection, as he had no desire to be Sorcerer Supreme. He would take the role if they really felt there was no other choice, but right now everyone in the running was sort of banding together to serve as a collective Sorcerer Supreme.

It was keeping Earth safe for now, even with the spread knowledge that The Ancient One was no longer at the helm to defend them, but they all knew that a collective of 'Sorcerer Supremes' was not going to work in the long run. There was a reason the other candidates, or the high-ranking, experienced, and/or skilled masters served as a council beneath their Sorcerer Supreme.

Stephen was certainly the 'newest' recruit to be put up for consideration, but he was skilled, powerful, and those of them who knew knew what he had gone through to face Dormammu, and his powers had grown powerful while stuck in the loop. Despite the fact he had brought Kaecilius back and many were not happy with that, it hadn't hurt him. Going back to save a misguided enemy wasn't something a lot of people had done, and it earned him respect.

So, in addition to the usual training, missions, and so forth, there was also watching and testing the candidates, and everyone brushing up on their knowledge, as if they were studying for tests. No one wanted to be chosen and feel suddenly unprepared.

The headache eased a little and Wong tended to the library, though tomorrow he would be going to the Sanctum to help Stephen. While Daniel was an ideal candidate to help, Stephen had asked him personally for assistance while he learned the ropes, and Wong didn't mind. Despite his flaws, Stephen was a good man.

First, though, that morning he had breakfast and tea with his family.

"Are you okay, little brother? You look a little pale." Li asked as she poured the tea into the cups.

"I haven't been sleeping well." Wong admitted.

He had been having strange dreams these past few nights, things he could not explain, and he had also been waking up sore or in his shoes, as well as feeling as though he had not slept as much as he had. Perhaps he was sleepwalking. Not underheard of, though he had never done it before.

Li's hand shot out and felt his forehead and Wong wanted to roll his eyes; she was forever and always going to be his big sister, six years older and never letting him forget.

"You feel fine."

"It's nothing to worry about it. If it happens again, I will go to the healers." Wong said, accepting his tea.

"Or you could have your doctor friend look you over." Li said and smirked at the glare he gave her.

Be kind to your brother. Hamir said, shaking his head at her.

"I was just teasing, Father." Li said, but she didn't pursue the subject of having Stephen examine him after that.

Are you certain you are fine? You have not seemed to be entirely yourself lately. Hamir added to Wong.

"Yes, Father. It has just been busy lately." Wong promised, not wanting to worry him.

He was certain they had given him little rest from worry when they had both decided to stay with the order, but he had never resented them for it. He had taught them and always looked at them with pride when they completed a mission or something similar, even if it was often only in private. None of them wanted their family ties to be reasons used against them, accusations of favoritism and the like.

They ate their breakfast and had their tea, and when Wong went to the New York Sanctum, the time difference was like a slap in the face.

It was night here and the Sanctum was lit against the night, the noises of the city largely contained by spells so it was more peaceful, though Bleeker Street wasn't as busy as some.

"Stephen?" Wong called out, searching the Sanctum and casting out his mind.

The Sanctum was empty and this irked Wong, because they had agreed upon a time, and the man was nowhere to be found. Of course, it was possible he had gone to handle something, and Wong waited. He didn't have to wait long, Stephen walking through the front doors that opened for him in street clothes, a bag hanging from one hand, his other transforming his clothes back into his blue robes, his sweat jacket becoming the Cloak.

"Hey, Wong. I went to get some food." Stephen greeted and the scent seemed to hit Wong in the face, unusually strong.

"I got you a tuna melt, if you want it. It'll last until later. My treat, I owed you anyway." Stephen continued, heading for the kitchen.

He paused and looked Wong over.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"You will not be if you ask that again." Wong said, annoyed.

"Always good for a threat upon my life." Stephen muttered, his nose scrunching just slightly in a way it did when he was irritated. "If you're not feeling well, you can just go back. I mostly asked you to come for the company. That, and to show me how to properly handle some of the relics." he continued.

Wong had no idea why the smell of the food was suddenly bothering him, considering he had just eaten, but it was, and he was glad when Stephen went into the kitchen. He did not follow and instead began to check things while the other man ate, Stephen soon joining him.

"Are you wearing cologne?" Wong asked, frowning at him.

"Yeah." Stephen said, sniffing himself. "Did I put too much on? I'm usually good about that."

"I just... Noticed it." Wong said and shook his head.

They began to work, Wong helping Stephen with the requested relics, but Wong found himself starting to be irritated by his friend. He was not sure why, especially since Stephen was not doing anything particularly irritating. Things had been stressful lately, though, so Wong supposed he was just making Stephen an excuse for all his irritation. He did his best to push it down and Stephen eventually went to bed, though to Wong it was the middle of the day.

He would have to adjust, since he was staying for a few days, and he stayed up far longer than he should have, which didn't help his irritation. In the New York morning, Stephen accidentally spilt coffee on a list Wong had made him, and Wong snapped at him.

Stephen was not a man to take that laying down or let it slide off.

"It was an accident, Wong. You know that. Why would I do it on purpose?" Stephen demanded, slamming the wad of paper towels he was holding down on the table, rattling everything on it.

Wong knew him well enough to know Stephen was mildly embarrassed about it happening, because the mug had slipped from his shaky hand and was lashing out a little because of that, because Wong had gotten mad at him for it, but it didn't make him feel better.

"Just... Go work in the library. You've been annoyed with me since yesterday; if you're staying, we're staying apart until you cool off." Stephen said and strode from the room.

Flew, actually, with the Cloak, and whether that was Stephen's choice or the Cloak being dramatic, Wong wasn't sure. But he went to work in the library, Stephen in the undercroft, and discovered Kaecilius sitting in there.

Wong had not always gotten along with Kaecilius, who was uncomfortably similar to Stephen, but he did not have an issue with him now that he was back. He was surprised by the friendship between the two and Kaecilius was working on translations; he was the best they had when it came to Nordic languages. Stephen must have asked for his help.

He looked up when Wong came in and Wong stared at him for just a moment. In the center of Kaecilius's forehead, the mark of Dormammu burned bright and bloody, carved into his skin and glowing, the shattered galaxy disfigurement dizzying to look at, his eyes having the glint of the power he had once absorbed in them.

Then Wong blinked and it was all gone, faded back to the scars they were now. Curving scars etched into the unmistakable pattern, discolored skin around his eyes and down his cheeks, that part smooth but undeniably scarred.

"Master Wong?" Kaecilius said politely, affording respect he had not in the past.

Of course, he held no rank now and few trusted him, and he was respecting the socially manners of the Masters of the Mystic arts.

"Yes?"

"Is there anything I can help you with? You look as though you saw a ghost." Kaecilius said, tilting his head.

There was the faintest bit of his usual bite in his voice, but that was really just how Kaecilius spoke. He had been a little more civil, a little more mellow, since Stephen had helped him on Samhain, though.

"If you have any pages done, I'd like to see them. They're from the new books, correct?" Wong said, giving himself a shake.

He felt uneasy with what he had just seen, of seeing Kaecilius so clearly as he had once been, but he shoved it from his mind. He had been up for too long trying to adjust to his new schedule, and the headache had returned.

Kaecilius handed the pages over, lifting them over his head for Wong to take, and Wong took them, casting a subtle spell to make sure that Kaecilius wasn't hiding anything, just to ease his mind. But no, Kaecilius was hiding nothing. There was no kind of spell on him, nothing.

Wong scolded himself and went through the translations, finding they were powerful and interesting spells, and returned them with a nod of approval. Then he began to tend to the library, which was so out of order than it set his teeth on edge.

Whether this was Daniel's doing, Stephen's, or a combination of both he didn't know, but he did know why Stephen had run off to play in the undercroft instead of doing this.
Wong didn't actually mind, as he found organizing libraries cathartic and peaceful, and set to work. Kaecilius was companiable, though he did stop Wong a time or two to ask for a better word in English. Once, though, he asked for a better word for the exact word he was writing, and then they both stared at each other.

"Why am I asking you? Why would you know?" Kaecilius said aloud, scowling.

"I do know a lot of languages. I am just not familiar with that particular dialect." Wong pointed out and Kaecilius nodded.

Wong felt better, despite the headache, after he spent a few hours in the library, and was glad to turn in that night (New York night). He had managed not to feel irritated with Stephen, but it was still sitting under the surface, just waiting for an excuse to come over him.

His dreams were unusual again. Like the previous times, he dreamed in odd flashes and glimpses. Wandering the halls and rooms of the Sanctum. Walking in the library of Kamar-Taj. Seeing people, greeting them, but his words were hard to hear in his own ears, and he was certain he was not actually speaking.

Wong woke in a cold sweat and realized he had woken up because Stephen had jabbed him rather hard, and it took him a moment to realize that Stephen was shirtless and staring at him in bewilderment.

"What the actual fuck are you doing in my bed? You scared me half to death!" Stephen shouted at him, slamming his fist down on the mattress.

He was indeed in the large bedroom Stephen had claimed and laying partially on the other man's legs, Wong feeling the heat of embarrassment flush through his cheeks.

He picked himself up properly and sat on the end of the bed instead, clearing his throat.

"I believe I have started sleepwalking. It may be advisable for you to start locking your door at night." he said, feeling awkward.

"Sleepwalking? That doesn't just start in adults for no reason. Did you do it when you were a kid?" Stephen asked, switching into doctor mode quickly.

"No."

"Taking any medication? You said you hadn't been sleeping well... It could be sleep deprivation, or stress and anxiety. Vishanti knows we all have enough of that going on lately." Stephen said, looking him over with intense gray eyes.

"I only took some aspirin for a persistent headache." Wong said and swore Stephen's ears pricked at the words.

"Hmm... I can check you out, if you want. I have gotten pretty good at the examination spells-"

"No, thank you." Wong interrupted and Stephen scowled.

"Wong, something is going on. Master Drumm and Kaecilius both told me about that relic that got him when he first became Sanctum Master. What if it's something like that? It's better to be safe than sorry. Go see a healer and I'll get Daniel and someone else to help me check the relics." he said firmly.

"It can not be a relic, Stephen, because it was happening before I came to the Sanctum."

"Then a cursed book, maybe. You've gotten some new ones lately. If you won't let me do, let a certified professional do it in Kamar-Taj." Stephen said, tossing his blankets aside.

Thankfully, he was wearing boxers, and began to get dressed, Wong giving in. He wasn't wrong; he had gotten cursed with mild illnesses and other odd things by handling books with subtle spells on them before.

Stephen ripped open his curtains and Wong hissed, the light stinging his eyes a little.

"Light sensitivity?" Stephen asked.

"I did not sleep well." Wong said, not wanting the man to spout what it might be symptoms of.

His eyes adjusted anyway and then they were off, the healers of Kamar-Taj available no matter what time it was. They checked him and found nothing amiss, other than he clearly hadn't been sleeping well and was probably experiencing some stress, which was not uncommon even if the Masters of the Mystic Arts were good at taking care of each other and themselves.

He was told to get some sleep, given a potion for the headache, and other instructions, and then released to join Stephen again.

And yet things did not get better, and Wong started missing time during the day, too. One minute he was in one room, the next he was in another, with no recollection of how he had gotten there, a few glimpses of what he had been doing running through his brain.

The lost time scared him, and he went to the healers without prompting, but they could find nothing wrong with him.

Stephen decided he was going to pull favors and get Wong checked out at Metro-General. Wong stopped him from getting that far, but just barely.

He wasn't sure why, other than something in him told him it would be a waste of time and favors. Stephen was irritated by this, but it wasn't like he could force Wong into it.

Wong wouldn't have put it past him, either, but Stephen was either restraining himself or waiting to sneak up on Wong with it.

It was certainly something, though. The headaches, dreams, lost time, and everything else continued, and so did Wong's growing irritation with Stephen.

They both kept getting irritated with each other and Li and their father were expression concern for him, but no one had yet found anything wrong with him. Stress and anxiety was the most likely cause, it seemed, and Wong supposed even he was going to suffer under that at one point or another.

He meditated and tried to reign in his irritation with Stephen, but the more he was around the other man, the more his very presence seemed to grate on every part of Wong.

One day, Stephen came almost sweeping into the Sanctum from somewhere in the city, wearing a pair of headphones, the cord disappearing into the pockets of his jeans, and he was in his own world, beginning to dance with the Cloak as it flew to greet him. Under any other circumstances, it would have been amusing, especially since Wong had no idea what Stephen could be possibly listening to, but he was doing a proper waltz with his relic.

He might have found it funny, had he not heard the slightly tinny sound from the headphones, or the smell hadn't just slammed into him sharply.

"Stephen." he said, almost tasting the scent in the back of his throat.

The man still did not notice him, waltzing through the foyer with the Cloak.

"Stephen!" Wong repeated, raising his voice, and Stephen jumped.

He released the Cloak, ripped his headphones off, and his cheeks were nearly as red as the relic.

"Uh, hi. How... How much of that did you see...?" he said, looking incredibly embarrassed.

"Are you wearing cologne again?" Wong demanded, resisting the urge to cover his nose.

The scent was irritating him, cedar, amber, and bergamot, and it suited Stephen, but suddenly it just seemed too much.

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem? No one ever said anything to me. It's the second time you've brought it up." Stephen asked, frowning deeply.

"Could you please take it off? It is giving me a headache." Wong said, keeping the attitude from his voice.

Everything about Stephen was suddenly bothering him, and he could see his aura around him for some reason, suddenly, even though he was not intentionally looking for it. A warm golden glow, outlining him and shining in a ring around his pupils. It pulsed with his power and something in Wong stirred at the sight of it, though he was not sure why. It was a mix of emotions and part of him wondered if he was jealous of Stephen. He had no idea why; he did not envy Stephen Strange. He admired him and considered him a friend and welcomed his companionship. Usually, at least.

"Yeah, okay. You should have said something before." Stephen said, frowning at him.

"And turn your music down; you should know about damaging your hearing, being a doctor." Wong scolded and Stephen paused.

"How can you hear that? It's not that high. It's on two." he said, pulling the device playing the music from his pocket.

Wong had no response, but Stephen paused the music or turned it off, and the tinny echo of it stopped. Stephen was frowning deeply now and so was Wong, but neither of them seemed to know what to say.

Stephen disappeared and Wong rubbed his forehead, and it wasn't just the music he could hear. He could hear Stephen moving further into the Sanctum even though he shouldn't have been able to, making it clear that it wasn't just his imagination.

He added heightened senses to his list of oddities going on with him and slipped into Kamar-Taj to try to investigate. Unfortunately, so many magical illnesses, side effects from misperformed spells, effects of relics, and more were similar that it was a healer's despair to try to figure out what was wrong. Wong narrowed it down to approximately twenty things and sighed.

He tried some things the books recommended, spells and remedies, but none of it seemed to really help. His sight, hearing, smell, and taste were definitely heightened, though not his sense of touch, which he was grateful for. There was still nothing the healers could diagnose him with, and no one could find any spells on him, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Often, when you did not know what you were looking, it was hard to find it if it was a spell.

Four weeks.

Four weeks from when he had first noticed the headaches, Wong was still suffering from it all, and it was driving him mad. He had sequestered himself to the Sanctum because the noises of Kamar-Taj were close to driving him mad and the scents of everything as well, and the dreams were persisting.

Stephen was able to confirm the sleepwalking, catching him wandering the Sanctum in the middle of the night, sometimes in the library, sometimes apparently just looking at the relics, sometimes opening the doors of the Rotunda. One time, Stephen had to drag him back from one of the locations they had left it on, and afterward switched them to semi-safe places, just in case.

Stephen began to investigate things himself, and Wong was grateful, but the morning of after almost one month of this madness and trying to figure it out, Wong woke up in his bed, confused, body aching, mind feeling hazy.

He raised a hand to rub his face and stared at his fingers, staring at them uncomprehendingly as his mind registered the wetness on him, the taste on his lips, the smell invading his nostrils.

Blood.

His hands were counted in blood and the taste was on his tongue, his face wet as well, with a dryness pulling the corners of his mouth.

Bolting upright, Wong stared at his bloody hands and saw there was blood on the sheets and something clumpy and red on the floor, what looked the remains of something furry there. His stomach churned.

Memories pounded through his head, brief senseless glimpses that did begin to make sense as they strung themselves together.

Going through the Rotunda door into the woods Stephen had left it on. Wandering through the woods, the dead leaves crackling beneath his feet, hearing the skitters and calls of various creatures. Seeing a rabbit. The rabbit in his hands, broken, twisted, bloody. Raising it to his lips-

Swallowing down the vomit suddenly crept up his throat, Wong staggered to his feet, a sense of panic in him. Something was wrong. Something was wrong and he suddenly realized what it was, why no spell had detected it, why no medicine or potion was doing anything.

A demon. It matched. Demonic possession. He had been walking around Kamar-Taj and the Sanctum with a demon inside him, reading books, looking at relics, and who-knew-what-else. He needed to find Stephen, because he could not trust himself now, not when he had a demon, unknown in all ways, sharing his body and mind.

He heard a low chuckle in the back of his mind, taunting him, and Wong knew he might not get the chance to find Stephen before the demon took control of him. But it did not seem have total control of him, if the 'dreams' and blackouts were anything to go off of. It could only take over for a limited time.

"Stephen!" Wong shouted, the Sanctum creaking and groaning at him.

He ran through the halls, looking Stephen's room, but he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere Wong could find, but the front doors of the Sanctum opened and Wong raced down, finding Stephen entering. He had forgotten that Stephen liked to go running in the city on Sunday mornings and he was walking in, unaware, headphones around his neck, Cloak swathing his upper half as a sweat jacket, and Wong opened his mouth-

And then he was himself and he was not.

The scent of Stephen struck him, but for once it did not irritate him. There was something burning in him, but the scent of Stephen Strange struck him, the vestiges of that cologne that hadn't washed out of something he was wearing, cedar, amber, and bergamot twining with salt and heat, and something that was just Stephen, which Wong had never noticed before.

He could see in sharp detail the sweat drying on Stephen's throat, glistening beneath his leaping pulse point, and hear his rapid breathing, hear his heartbeat, and see his aura, the magic he had brought into himself by deciding to be a Master of the Mystic Arts, a mark that was only visible should you choose to see it knew how to look for it.

"Good morning, Wong." Stephen said, looking up as the Sanctum groaned and creaked in warning.

"Wong?" Stephen said, staring at him, shock, horror, and worry blending together on his face.

"Are you hurt? What happened?" Stephen continued, the Sanctum practically screaming at him.

The Cloak began to tug him, and Stephen bolted, heading for the doors to Kamar-Taj, and Wong found himself moving, far faster than he naturally would be able to.

He caught up before Stephen could turn the corner and lashed out with a whip of magic, snapping it around Stephen's ankle and yanking his leg out from under him. Stephen crashed to the floor with a solid smack and a snapping around, crying out, and Wong dragged him back. Stephen clawed at the floor, thrashing, and Wong pinned him beneath himself after flipping Stephen onto his back.

Stephen was saying his name over and over, trying to cast, but Wong grabbed both his wrists in his hand and pinned them above his head, his other hand pressed down on Stephen's throat. Unnatural strength filled his body and Stephen writhed beneath him, the Cloak pinned and stuck even as it tried to drag him away.

"Who are you?! What have you done with Wong?!" Stephen demanded, gray eyes burning with defiance and anger.

His power burned in golden rings around his pupils, his power calling out to Wong, or rather, the thing currently inside him.

"Wong is still here. He just permitted me to use his body for the duration of our contract."

"Like hell Wong would make a deal with a demon." Stephen spat, squirming.

He gasped as his wrists were crushed, one broken from his fall, and the bones crunched together.

"Oh, but he did. He merely is not as good as making bargains as you, Stephen Strange. We bargained that I was not to touch anyone but him, no sorcerers, no friends... But we never said anything about enemies." the demon said, using Wong's voice and body to speak.

" 'Enemies'?"

"Oh, yes. We have crossed paths before you, you and I. Do you even remember?" the demon laughed and Wong tried to get control again, but he just could not pull away from Stephen.

He could do nothing but watch in his own body, his vision fully flooding with the demon's powers, allowing him to see the magical glows and sights of the Sanctum, of Stephen, even himself.

"Molvun." Stephen said after a moment, his expression turning into something of a snarl.

The name bounced around in Wong's skull, his memories struggling up, filling in blanks, giving him explanations, clearing everything up even as he could do nothing to stop this.

He had made a deal with a demon. He had needed to borrow its power to help deal with a threat, to power a spell, and in exchange, the demon had wanted to possess him. Just to see what it was like; demons were prone to boredom, just like humans, and sought ways to alleviate. Wong had carefully worded their deal, their contract, and he had thought he had covered everything, but he should have known better. Demons were excellent at finding the tiniest loopholes and technicalities in their contracts and exploiting them.

He had not known Stephen had had prior encounters with this demon, and if he had, he would have sought another, even if Molvun's power was exactly what he had needed.

"I still hurt from what you did to me, Stephen Strange. Which is why I wanted to possess this body in the first place, to recover. I did not realize there was any sort of connection to you, however. That was just a stroke of luck. Now I have the chance for revenge." Molvun said, smiling with Wong's face, and Wong's hand pressed down firmly on Stephen's throat.

Stephen squirmed and kicked, thrashing, trying to get up, trying to throw Wong off, but he was thoroughly pinned. The Cloak managed to wiggle free enough that they could shift, and they flew off Stephen in a blur of red, transforming from jacket to cloak in a flash. Wong hoped the Cloak would rip him off Stephen, and they did, slamming into him mercilessly and throwing him across the foyer.

Stephen, coughing and spluttering, rolled to his knees and got to his feet, Molvun already manipulating Wong's body with its powers. Stronger, faster, something Stephen might not be able to handle himself, because while he might have faced Molvun, demons could become more powerful when possessing someone, and there was no telling what else Wong might have somehow left out.

Sorcerer and Cloak faced him, the Cloak settling on Stephen's shoulders, and Stephen began to move his hands, but it was clear his broken wrist was causing him some issues.

After a moment of consideration, he and the Cloak suddenly took flight, soaring over the gallery railing, and Molvun/Wong pursued them. Wong tried to keep his thoughts to himself, but he was certain Stephen was rushing for a relic, and he knew Molvun had learned about quite a few of them, wandering around in his body.

Wong was powerless, even as he struggled to overcome Molvun's hold, but they had made a contract, and that could render Wong's efforts useless Molvun broke a specific part of the contract.

Stephen was up among the relics now and he hurled the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak at them before they could even come up the stairs fully. Neither Wong nor Molvun had been expecting Stephen to respond so quickly and the force of the Bands hitting and contorting Wong's body into its prison caused him to fall oddly down the stairs, but the yanking of the Bands probably spared him some injury in ways.

Within seconds, Wong was down on his knees, arms outstretched, muzzled, bound so he could not perform magic or cast magic. Molvun was held too, but not for long. If Kaecilius could break out of them, a demon certainly could find a way.

Stephen raced down, apologies streaming from his lips, and together he and the Cloak rushing off to get things and bringing them back. He was likely going to try to banish Molvun. Wong wanted to tell Stephen there was no point, since he had done this willingly, but even if he could speak, the muzzle effectively prevented. Stephen undid it, though, and scowled down at them.

"You won't be able to cast me out. He agreed to this."

"I'm not casting you out." Stephen said and performed a spell.

Moments later they were in the cells in the basement, contained in the larger one, and Stephen stepped out, glowering.

"You're staying there until you release my friend, asshole. I don't care what he agreed to, but I know Wong was smart enough to set a time limit on that. You've been in him for a month, I think, since that was when he started acting weird. Your time is almost up." he said, and Wong felt an unpleasant ripple of Molvun's emotions.

Stephen was right, of course. Wong felt calm inside with that reminder, because he had set a limit on Molvun, carefully worded and outlined to make sure the demon could not keep his body forever or come take him over without warning. He had lost track of how long it had been, exactly, and he could not tell Stephen about the contract or anything else.

It turned out Molvun had only three days left, including this day, and being locked in the cell by Stephen didn't break the contract. Stephen waited it out. He returned with a cast on his wrist and brought food, worrying about rabbit fever, spewing dozens of medical questions at Molvun.

Molvun wouldn't speak without wanting a bargain, furious that Stephen had gotten the better of them again, and two days later they left Wong, feeling raged and strange in his own skin but otherwise fine. As soon as Stephen was sure the demon had returned to their own dimension, he flew into the cell, and for a moment Wong thought the other man was about to hug him.

"I'm sorry I had to lock you up in there like that." Stephen said, instead standing in front of him, hands twitching.

"You did the right thing. I apologize for that, Stephen. I did not know about Molvun, and I thought I had-"

"Don't apologize. We're both fine and that's what counts. I've done stupid things, and so have plenty of other sorcerers, if those books you've given me are anything to go off of. I didn't tell anyone, by the way. I don't think they need to know." Stephen interrupted with a shrug.

Wong wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had lied for The Ancient One, for Stephen, and for others, but they had never foolishly agreed to be possessed by a demon. He might tell them, in the future. But for now he was glad that it was over and for what Stephen had done.

"Thank you." Wong said, though the words did not feel large enough to encompass that.

"You're welcome. I owed you one, so now we're even." Stephen said, as if this was something he did on a daily basis.

He turned on his heel and began to head toward the 'normal' part of the basement, toward the stairs that would take them back to the rest of the Sanctum.

"Next time you decide to make a bargain with a demon, though, come talk it through with me first. I did get one over on Dormammu, after all." Stephen said, the Cloak swishing sassily around him, adding to the air about him.

"You annoyed him until you got your way, Strange. Don't let your head get too big for your shoulders." Wong warned, but what Stephen had done was amazing, and few others would have been able to do it.

Still, he couldn't let his friend's head get too big for him.

"Oh, dear. It seems I've been downgraded to Strange again." Stephen mourned, but he flashed Wong a small smile.

Then he was flying up the stairs, already having a list of things he wanted Wong's help with, as if this had never happened, and Wong snorted, but followed all the same.

Chapter Text

It had taken some time for Kaecilius to allow Daniel near him again and it had admittedly taken Daniel some time, too. It wasn't entirely easy to forget how Kaecilius has stabbed him, almost resulting in his death.

He had come to learn that the only reason he hadn't died was because Kaecilius had hesitated, hadn't really had it in himself to kill him despite everything, despite his determination to complete his deal with Dormammu.

But in the months since Stephen had brought him back, they had slowly started to interact again and while things were not how they once had been- they had been friends by the time Kaecilius had left, realizing they were more suited to be friends- they were better.

They were friendly with each other again and it was clear that Kaecilius craved company, and Daniel had been missing his.

They were talking and having tea together when there was a knock on the door and they paused, Kaecilius looking at Daniel questioningly. Daniel hadn't been expecting anyone to come to his rooms, so he shrugged and got up.

It was Stephen, the other master standing somewhat oddly on the other side of the door, and he looked like he had gotten on the losing side of a fight, actually. Lip bleeding, the end of his eyebrow cut and adding to the blood, cheek scraped, holding himself awkwardly.

"What in Vishanti's name happened to you?" Daniel asked and Stephen's face turned bright red.

"I got injured. I was just hoping you could help me, there are a few spots I can't reach on my own." Stephen said, not answering the question.

"Why not go to the healers?" Daniel asked, suspicious.

Not that the healers always demanded an answer, but sometimes masters avoided them because they were embarrassed by how they had gotten injured, and Stephen certainly was.

"I didn't want to bother them; it's just a spell or two where I can't reach them." Stephen said lightly, but he was still a bit red.

"Come in." Daniel said, shaking his head.

The Cloak of Levitation flew off its master's shoulders and hovered a polite distance away, Daniel seeing that Stephen was limping.

"Did you pick a fight with something you couldn't win against?" Daniel asked, motioning for Stephen to take off his robe and belts.

"No."

"Did someone attack you?"

"Not technically." Stephen muttered and Daniel and Kaecilius exchanged a look, though words were paused as the man revealed his injuries.

Scrapes, a few little scratches, forming bruises and welts, and, down his shoulder, a cut that was bleeding.

"Stephen!" Daniel exclaimed, shocked. "Violence is not condoned among the masters, as you very well know. Whoever attacked you needs to be punished. We do not allow these things to stand."

"I'm fine, I just needed a little help and Wong was busy." Stephen said and Kaecilius kindly fetched the first aid kit for Daniel.

"I have trained hard enough for people to go to the hospital, but never this badly." Kaecilius remarked, reminding Daniel of the bruised and bloodied students he had sometimes had at the end of a training session.

Those had been low times in Kaecilius's life, as he grappled with grief and pain, but that had been no excuse. It had given him a little leeway, but only a little, because no one had been badly hurt, and he had also likely picked it up from Mordo, who had not always been gentle in his training sessions.

Stephen said nothing and Daniel didn't press him, because honestly, this wasn't the strangest thing that had ever arrived on his doorstep. An intoxicated Mordo with a bleeding head he didn't remember getting and the irritated Kaecilius whose long hair had been turned a violent shade of purple by a spell the former had cast (no one had figured out how to break that, it had worn off three weeks later) in his current state probably topped the list.

Daniel let Stephen sit on the bed and began to clean the gash down his back, noting the clear marks of spells, wondering at the odd flurry of them that appeared to have hit him. Stephen was a good sorcerer, so why hadn't he shielded himself? Had he been incapacitated in some manner? He really shouldn't have been this injured from something that appeared to not have done him that bad of harm.

Stephen winced at Daniel's ministrations, but he allowed them and began to relax after a minute or so. Kaecilius came around his other side to clean his face, a hand being swatted at him.

"I don't need you both to play doctor. I just can't reach my back and shoulder." he said sourly.

"Why leave a job half-finished?" Kaecilius asked, snatching Stephen's wrist and cleaning his face by force.

Stephen sighed but didn't fight them, and Daniel was still curious and mystified by his current state.

If it had been something he had to deal with, someone would have mentioned it or he wouldn't be embarrassed about the injuries. Unless it was something relatively easy to handle most of the time, but every so often you found a creature or a being that could pack quite the unexpected punch for one of its kind.

Daniel didn't pry, but Kaecilius began to rattle of things with curiosity, and Stephen was clearly growing more uncomfortable by the second. And whatever it was probably something certainly embarrassing instead of dangerous, considering the Cloak had a pissed-off air around it, rather than worrying over its master.

"Kae." Daniel scolded, arching a brow at his friend as he continued to rattle off things.

"All right. Keep your secrets, Mister Doctor." Kaecilius sighed, taping up Stephen's cut brow with a butterfly bandage.

They didn't use magic to heal everything, or at least heal all the way, because a body did need to heal on its own when possible, and Kaecilius was still forbidden from using magic. Part of Daniel thought he might have actually been scared to, worried that it might turn him down the path he had been going down, even though he had certainly been much better, had closure and was actually healing, since Stephen had helped him on Samhain.

It didn't take them long to patch up Stephen and his leg was in better condition than Daniel had thought; he had initially been worried that Stephen had done something to his foot or twisted his knee, but all that had happened was he had banged it up pretty well. Nothing some ice, some rest, and possible a soft brace for a few days wouldn't fix.

When he had redressed and was looking better, his pain eased, Stephen paused at the door.

"Thank you, Master Drumm. Kaecilius." he said politely as the Cloak settled back on his shoulders.

"Was it the Cloak?" Daniel asked, because it was a fickle thing, and sometimes it did drop people (by accident, mostly).

"No!" Stephen exclaimed, horrified by the thought, and the Cloak flared out in anger around him.

Stephen kicked the doorway with the toe of his boot.

"If you must know, it was a student." he said and Daniel and Kaecilius stared at him.

"A student attacked you? That is a serious situation, Strange, we need to-"

"They didn't attack me. I said they could practice on me." Stephen's interruption was a mumble, but Daniel heard it all the same, and he paused.

"You did what?" he said, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"I allowed a student to practice spells on me, without shielding, because they were struggling." Stephen said hotly, his cheeks a deep red.

"Oh, Vishanti..." Daniel said as Kaecilius began to chuckle.

"Klaptorsk." he said in Danish, which they both knew Stephen did not speak.

"It worked. The Ancient One left me on Everest and it got the job done. I thought unusual teaching methods were normal around here." Stephen said, somehow maintaining an air of dignity around.

"She left me on some remote isle in Scotland. Among other places" Kaecilius commented.

"She left me dumped in my brother's living room." Daniel said, smiling at the memory.

"But that doesn't mean you need to be such a fool, Strange. You could have gotten seriously hurt. You know unpredictable students' spells can be. And think of how the student would be feeling right now if you had been." he added in a stern voice.

"Trust me, it is not happening again. Goodnight, gentlemen." Stephen said and left, the Cloak swirling out the door behind him.

Daniel shook his head, finding himself laughing with Kaecilius almost the moment the door had closed. This was the man who was in the running to be the next Sorcerer Supreme, who had proven himself worthy of wearing an Infinity Stone around his neck, and he was an idiot.

Chapter Text

Karl had never been the best at healing spells, and of course they didn't work all the time. There was proof of that right now, seeping from his body and between his fingers.

He needed help, and for this kind of injury, he knew that a hospital was not going to cut it. He had nowhere else to go. He had burned so many bridges since leaving the order, and he knew this was likely another burned bridge, but... At the moment, he couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Anyone else to turn to.

The New York Sanctum looked as impressive and grand as always, but there was an opposing air about it now that Karl had never felt before, and he wondered if she knew it was him, even though he was standing, hood pulled over his face, on the other side of the street.

She might deny him. He might not even be able to knock on the front door. But he had to try.

He crossed the deserted street, the streetlights casting pools of light and shadow, and approached the door. Nothing happened, no wards or spells activated, and he wondered if they had not bothered to ward against him despite everything, or if she sensed that he was in need.

She would not let him in, however, so he had to raise his hand and pound on the door, the movement sending jolts of pain through his wound, the slim fingers of it making him sick to his stomach.

He knocked and then waited, wondering if the Sanctum would refuse to open her doors should anyone come, and he wondered if it would be Stephen after all. If not...

The doors opened more quickly than Karl had anticipated they would, and he found himself face to face with Stephen Strange.

They had not seen each other since Karl had found him pulling Kaecilius back from the Dark Dimension and they stared at each other, Stephen's expression unreadable. Karl had tried to kill Stephen, had stripped Pangborn and others of the magic they were so unworthy of, and so much more, and it was probably foolish to come here for help. He fully expected Stephen to bind him with a spell or just slam the door in his face.

But Stephen Strange was not most men, and he was certainly not Karl.

"Mordo? Vishanti, Mordo, what are you doing here?" he said, looking wary and curious in equal measures.

The Cloak of Levitation rippled angrily from his shoulders, no doubt remembering how Karl had tried to kill its master, and the Staff of Living Tribunal felt heavy on his back, as if it did not want to be drawn.

"I need your help, Stephen." Karl said raggedly, swaying a bit.

Stephen's eyes dropped to his other hand, how it was clamped to his side, and spied the blood seeping between his fingers.

Without another word, he took Karl's other arm and tugged him inside, helping him into the kitchen. He flicked on all the lights and sat Karl down in a chair, sending the Cloak off on some instruction. He washed his hands quickly at the sink and soaked a tea towel with water, coming to kneel in front of Karl.

"I need you to remove your hand. Unless some organ is going to slip out or something, in which case you need to tell me that, too." he said briskly, switching from sorcerer to doctor in the blink of an eye.

"Just blood." Karl said and eased his hand away.

More blood began to roll down his skin after he did, flowing faster without the pressure, and Stephen began to part the torn fabric, then paused. Instead, he quickly ripped off Karl's jacket and then sliced off his shirt with an impressively precise mandala, exposing the wound to the light.

It was deep and pumping blood, Stephen using the wet towel to quickly wipe it away and inspect the injury. It was deep and bleeding quite a bit, the evidence of that soaking Karl's clothes and staining his skin.

"Vishanti, Mordo, I can't believe you're still standing." he said, pressing the towel over it.

"Hold that there. You haven't lost enough blood to need a transfusion, but I need to tend to this now. Any chance you can tell me how old this is and what inflicted it?" he continued, rising once Karl had a firm hold over the towel.

"A blade. A few hours." Karl replied and Stephen made a noise under his breath.

The Cloak came back, holding something, and Stephen thanked it, moving quickly.

"I need you to get on the table. I just cleaned it, you'll be fine." he told Karl and Karl nodded.

He laid on the tabled, the wood cool against his bare skin, and Stephen stuffed another towel beneath his head, setting out an array of things.

"You're going to need stitches. Mordo, I can't... I probably could, but they would be ugly as hell and will scar. I could get a healer or Wong-"

"No. Just you, Strange. I trust you to do put me back together. Another scar means nothing to me." Karl said sharply and Stephen nodded.

Karl was quite certain that Stephen could channel dimensional energy into his body if he wanted to at this point, but for some reason he did not. Part of Karl admired that, to be honest. Stephen had certainly grown since he had first arrived in Kamar-Taj.

Stephen began to work, the Cloak assisting him, and no, with his shaking hands, he was not as good a doctor as he could be.

"I would've offered you some alcohol, but something tells me you don't want to lose any mental capacity." Stephen said as he worked, glancing at Mordo.

He had griped a moment ago about not having a mask and gloves (seemed to have used them for something else), but he seemed comfortable with talking despite that.

"No." Mordo said through gritted teeth as Stephen began to swab out the injury.

It hurt fiercely and made him feel sick, and maybe something to numb it would have been for the best, but he wanted his wits about him, just in case. He honestly didn't know if Stephen would attempt to capture him, and that was something he did not want. Even though they were enemies, he had come to him for help, and he was putting far too much trust in someone he had tried to kill and clashed with, whose disregard for the natural law still raked across his skin.

Especially when he saw the Eye hanging around Stephen's neck once again.

"You should really go to a hospital. This is dirty, Mordo, you'll probably need a shot."

"It's not typical debris, it's remnants of magic." Mordo ground out, his hands gripping the edges of the table tightly.

"Explains why it's pulsing, I suppose." Stephen said, humming to himself.

Mordo gasped as he worked a spell alongside the swap and Stephen was more skilled in spellwork than when Mordo had last seen him.

"I need to talk while I work. Always helped me when I was in the middle of surgery. Gets me out of my own head. Of course, if I screw up here, you'll still have a functioning brain to work with." Stephen said and Mordo wanted to roll his eyes.

"Any chance you'll tell me how you've been? What you've been up to?"

"No." Karl said and Stephen hummed again.

"Any chance you'll tell me what made this wound?" he asked next.

"It was not one of the order, Strange. That is all you need to know." Karl said flatly, his nails biting into the wood.

"She's doing well, you know. The Ancient One." Stephen said, still working on cleaning out the magical remnants.

Karl did not care about that. In his mind, it would have been right and just in The Ancient One had died there on the sidewalk or in the hospital. That was an afterthought, though. He had dive out that portal with hoping to save her, and had realized it was futile. Stephen had done what he could not, but even when he had come back with the news that she had survived the surgery, Karl had not thought she would survive afterward.

Her betrayal still stung and angered him, and he was just in what he was doing. They could not have sorcerers going around and drawing power from the Dark Dimension like she had, extending their lives unnaturally and breaking natural law.

She and Kaecilius both should have been dead for their transgressions, and Stephen, too, really. Part of Karl could forgive Stephen for what he had done, because he had saved the world and he had had less than a year of training beneath his belts, had been swayed by The Ancient One, as they all had. But he had broken natural law so blatantly that Karl could not let that go.

"I do not care to know. She is dead to me. I take comfort in knowing that she is no longer Sorcerer Supreme." Karl said and Stephen let the subject drop.

He talked about random things, how things were going around the Sanctum, things he had seen in the city, little magical incidents. Though he was standing here treating Karl, he was smart enough not let anything slip that might be potentially damaging.

The man had Karl silent for the rest of the time, gripping the table and gritting his teeth, and Stephen soon finished cleaning the wound, working on the bleeding next. Then, finally, came the stitches.

"Stitches without a numbing agent hurt on a good day. Stitches given by me now... I'm sorry." Stephen said and gave him a clean towel to bite down on.

Karl nearly screamed as the needle went into his flesh and he knew Stephen had threaded it with magic, but the work had to be done by hand. Several times the needle speared him and made him wince, misguided by the shakiness of Stephen's hands, and an apology would come. Karl did not scream, but he wanted to, yet he did not want to give up any more dignity to Stephen Strange.

Finally, the stiches were done, and Karl's head was spinning, Stephen cleaning things up. He made Karl sit up and wrapped him up with bandages, a magical kind that would help eliminate any lingering magic Stephen might have missed. Stephen gave him a new shirt and while the fit wasn't exact, it was good enough. Karl pulled his jacket and coat, as torn as they were, back on, Stephen having removed the blood with a spell.

As Stephen scrubbed the blood from the table and the Cloak of Levitation hovered menacingly off to the side, Karl decided to take his leave. He had gotten what he had come for and though he was weak, he was no longer in danger of dying.

He could have eliminated Stephen then and there, while his back was turned and his hands full. He would have had the Cloak to contend with and maybe even the Sanctum herself, but he could do it and save himself some future trouble.

He did not. He had come here, vulnerable and wounded, asking for help, and had been given it when he knew he did not deserve it. Karl might have changed since he had left Kamar-Taj, but he had not changed enough to stab someone in the back after they had more generous than they could have been to him.

"You can go. The Sanctum won't keep you in here; I told her to let you go." Stephen said without looking up.

"And why would you do that, Strange? I am your enemy now. By all means, you should bind me up and take me to Kamar-Taj for punishment, if you can." Karl asked, though the answer truly didn't matter, in the end.

"Because you came to me hurt and bleeding pretty badly. It seems unfair to take advantage of you like that. Just go before I change my mind and see the sense you want me to." Stephen said, still scrubbing the table.

Karl took it and strode away, but just as he reached the Sanctum door, Stephen spoke again, and he jumped, not having realized the man had followed him.

"Why did you come here, Mordo? Why did you come to me, of all people?" Stephen asked, his voice soft yet vibrant with curiosity.

There was also pain there and Karl took a breath.

"I don't trust anyone else." he said and with that, opened the Sanctum doors, vanishing into the night before Stephen could call out again.

Chapter Text

Fourteen million, six hundred, five futures from one moment.

Fourteen million, six hundred, five futures Stephen Strange saw and lived in ways, searching for the best one, the only one, where everything could turn out well.

Not everything, he supposed, but the best the universe could them, and he looked far beyond the battle of Titan, into the years that followed, living it all, seeing it all, and trying to find it.

The magic of the Time Stone and the Mystic Arts followed around him, caressing his skin, cradling his mind and body as he searched and lived things, things that felt like an eternity to him but he knew were passing very quickly back in the proper stream of time.

Some futures, he did not linger long, because they were not the way.

Dead Tony, dead Peter, dead Guardians, desolated Earth. Well, desolated in some ways. He could not deny that halving the population was good for their exhausted planet. Less pollution, less destruction, just less of human greed and stupidity. Those benefits didn't make it right.

No one being, human or otherwise, should have the power to bring terror and death such as that to hundreds, thousands, of planets. There was good in the idea Thanos had, but not in the execution. He was so fixed in his ways that nothing could ever change what he had come to. But Stephen could pick the future that saved them from it.

He lived years, as he had in the loop with Dormammu. In them, he got to know Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, and more. He got to live futures with some of them, or a few of them, or none of them. He could return to Kamar-Taj saying that he had tried, and he had failed, and no one would blame him for failing.

Dead or alive, no matter how he manipulated the other Stones in his possession, Stephen's spell would hold, and Thanos would not get the Time Stone. Not like that. There were futures where the spell did break, but they were few and far between, and that was the least likely way for the future to go.

But there were futures where one of his new-found comrades would take it from him and his spell did not hold against them, because he had not spelled it against people like them. Stark, Parker, Quill- Either they could crack or be manipulated, and they could lose.

Stephen could give Thanos the Stone at the wrong time.

Someone could misstep.

A spell might go wrong.

A shot might be misplaced.

Anything, literally anything could happen.

They all might die in the ensuing fight and never make it home, not a single one of them, and Thanos would have almost every Stone, not enough to easily do what he wanted, but enough to still bring about the devastation.

Stephen lived good lives in the futures. He died on Titan. He died in Wakanda. He sat in the Guardians' spaceship, sling ring snatched by Thanos, the ship not fixed as Tony might have done it in some futures, staring out at the expanse of space, using his magic until he no longer could.

In some futures, he sat in the spaceship with Tony. With Peter. With Quill. With Mantis. With Drax. With Nebula. He drifted alone. He used magic to make the broken thing work, and got back to Earth, and yet he was broken, so broken if he was alone.

He left Kamar-Taj. He stayed in Kamar-Taj. Faces were gone. Some in some futures, others in more, a constant mix and match because who would die and who would live was not set in the most beautiful of ways. It was truly random and there was something in that that Stephen could appreciate.

He knew now he was wandering his endless possibilities The Ancient One had told him about, and he kept wandering them, living and looking, searching.

He formed bonds and feelings as the future flowed around him and it was foolish in ways, but Stephen couldn't help it.

He might end up raising Tony Stark's daughter alongside the woman who could have been Tony Stark's wife but could become his.

He might finally channel dimension energy into his hands and go back to being a surgeon, because he had failed as a sorcerer and was not worthy to become the Sorcerer Supreme, and even if he had not been a great doctor, at least he had been a good one.

He could become the Sorcerer Supreme.

The world would be devastated but not lost, and eventually, they would move on. But so many had been lost, not just people but animals, too, species on the brink because of humanity but completely gone because of Thanos.

Soon there would be generations growing up never remembering or even knowing what had happened, who would stare at the memorials scattered around the world and watch the services on TV and be amazed at what had happened, not understand that once there had been even more people in the world.

There would be years of pain, loss, grief, and brokenness, and it would swell Kamar-Taj's ranks when they had been declining for years. That was promised in any future.

More and more years Stephen lived and saw, endless things, one tiny thing changing one branch into a hundred different paths, everything spreading like a great root system from this one moment, this one crucial point in time that once done, could never be undone.

Stephen had to choose carefully, for the entire world and the future of the world. Tony would ask him how many futures he had seen where they won. They would win, could win, thousands of different ways. But there was yet no future where they could truly win. Where they claimed the best future.

Fourteen million, six hundred, five futures.

And finally, finally, he found that one, that one future he had been looking, as the number ticked in his head.

He saw it play out, saw just what they could have to do here, in the time right after now, to make it happen. He saw the years to come, the next five years tumbling by him, and he was not in it. So many people were not in it. But they would be, eventually.

That in itself would cause heartache and pain, confusion and knew devastation, but...

But it was their future, that one shining future he had been looking for. And Stephen saw how it played out for him.

How he handed the Time Stone to Thanos himself and died with Peter, with all the Guardians around them, with millions of others.

He saw how the years would play out after that.

And he saw how those left would never give up, even if they became beaten down and lost, even if it took time. How they would figure out how to undo it all.

He also saw how those left, in their righteousness to educate the world on exactly what had happened, would reveal to the survivors what he had done.

That his giving of the Time Stone was what sent Thanos to Wakanda and allowed him to claim the Mind Stone. How Stephen Vincent Strange gave the Destroyer of Worlds the power to decimate theirs.

Many would hate him, during the years of his death and after his return. He would be praised and hated alike, and while he would never be loved like Iron Man or Captain America, Stephen no longer cared for that.

He would be the monster.

He would be the monster who had brought the world to that future, who had allowed the Mad Titan to do what he did, who might not have snapped himself but was the reason all those people died.

And yet, that was the future they needed.

And since it was, that was what Stephen would be.

He could have looked for other futures, but there was no time.

He dropped out of the future, disoriented, breathing hard, and he knew what he had to. They listened to him despite their prior arguments about plans, and they did it. Tony, Peter, and the Guardians executed it flawlessly alongside him, and every fall, blow taken, and everything else went exactly as Stephen had seen it.

Then Thanos stabbed Tony with his own blade, dealing damage it would be a miracle the man survived, but Stephen knew he would, and he knew it was time. He called out to Thanos and stopped him, gave him the glowing Time Stone.

And in doing so, Stephen knew what was happening, alongside everything else.

He was becoming the monster. And that was exactly what they needed.

Chapter Text

A fickle thing, they called it. Temperamental. Unruly. Mischievous. They called it many words, and they held little meaning to the Cloak of Levitation.

It might have been made by the Masters of the Mystic Arts for the Masters of the Mystic Arts, but that did not mean it had to serve every single one of them that came looking for its powers.

The Cloak had had many masters, partners, and even what you would call friends over the years. And it has seen so many falls.

It had seen falls in battle. Taken down by weapon, by blow, by spell. Allies of it and its master, enemies of them, even its masters themselves.

Many times, the Cloak had been holding them when they had taken that final blow and they had been knocked from the sky, and as it caught them, the Cloak would find nothing but a lifeless body in its grasp. Its master, its partner, its friend. Gone and fallen. And it, though being an inanimate object, the Cloak did have emotions. It had been made sentient by humans, after all, so there was always going to be something of a human in it in ways.

It grieved each master that fell under its protection. Who slipped away in its grasp. For the ones who fell near it, who were not the ones it had chosen but meant something to it all the same.

The Cloak had seen so many different kinds of falls in its many years.

Falls in battle, falls from its grasp. Falls from grace, from friendship, from everything and anything the humans around it could possibly produce.

For a long time, after the pain of another fallen partner, the Cloak had resigned itself to the Sanctum, to the case where they eventually kept it, and it tolerated the masters brought before it to be a potential partner. It would allow The Ancient One, as she came to be called, to handle it, but that was respect it afforded all Sorcerer Supremes. It was fond of her, though, and there was a comfort it found in her that she found in it. They had seen things no one else around them had.

When Kaecilius came, it was almost right. But not... But not what it needed. So, the Cloak put itself away and waited for just what it needed.

That arrived in the form of Stephen Strange. Foolish, arrogant, green, but with so much potential.

It had been there for his first chain of falls, through its case, over the railing, through the Mirror Dimension.

It had been there for The Ancient One's fall, too, and it had wanted to catch her, to dive down and save her from that terrible fall, but it did, it would drop Stephen, and as foolish and green as he was, it couldn't let him fall either.

So The Ancient One had fallen and when they left her, broken and torn but alive and Stephen cried silently, it wiped his tears away, for it, for him.

It took him into the Dark Dimension, and stayed with him through those falls, too, the falls to Dormammu, the falls through the air as they fought.

It stayed with him, because Stephen Strange belonged it, and it would only let him go when he fell, too.

That fall came sooner than the Cloak would have imagined.

He was ripped away from it by strangers, invaders, thieves, and the Cloak gave chase, refusing to abandon it, teaming up with the heroes who so earnestly wanted to save him, too, and not just because of the Eye of Agamotto.

It was afraid that Stephen would fall on Titan and that it would wrap itself around his cooling body on the journey home, acting as a shroud and grieving because another had been lost to it.

They almost won, until the moment they didn't, until the moment Stephen gave the Time Stone away, and the Cloak knew he had seen this, had chosen the future they needed, but that didn't make it any easier. The Cloak felt the sting of grief and pain that it had not in centuries as Stephen turned to ash in its grasp and drifted away, dead and gone.

GONE. Lost. Fallen.

It traveled back with Tony Stark and Nebula, and watched as Tony Stark almost died, as they drifted in space. It watched his recorded messages and appreciated the comfort he tried to offer, because it knew there was nothing he could do. It also wondered which faces it had come to cherish would be gone this time when it could return home.

There was no one waiting for them, for it and Stephen, when the glowing woman brought their ship home to Earth.

There was no one to take it home. So the Cloak flew from the compound and into the night, not lingering for what came after, flying for hours, unnoticed, unbothered, until it reached the New York Sanctum that stood in a city that now looked as though it belonged to one of those movies it had watched with its master.

The Sanctum let it in as soon as it came and it flew to Kamar-Taj, finding Wong. It surprised both of them by flying straight to him and wrapping itself around him tightly, hugging him.

"He's gone, then." Wong said quietly, his arms wrapped around it as well.

The Cloak bobbed and curled its hem gently, displaying the scattering of ashes it hadn't let go of during these many days.

Wong looked at it and his expression twisted, his grief a palatable thing in front of the Cloak.

Soon after, it found which faces were missing and which were still here.

Wong, The Ancient One, Kaecilius, Sarah Wolfe. All still here.

Daniel Drumm, Li, Egeria, Mellark, and many more were gone. Gone and turned to ashes, fallen just like Stephen.

The Cloak wanted nothing more than to place itself in its case and swear off masters for the rest of its existence, even if its purpose, the reason for its creation, was to serve the masters.

The grief, its own and others, was heavy and long. But the Masters of the Mystic Arts still had a duty to the Earth, to protect it, to protect what was left, and they rallied.

Wong became Sorcerer Supreme. No one said it, but they all knew Stephen would have received the title had he not fallen.

Wong bore it heavily but well, and the Cloak considered taking him as its new master, but Wong was not the one who needed that help.

Kaecilius became Master of the New York Sanctum.

There was outrage and talk, but Kaecilius had proven himself since Stephen had brought him back, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts had suffered their losses. He was powerful, he was qualified, and Wong was certain in his decision.

The Ancient One and Hamir ran Kamar-Taj directly beneath Wong, assisting and guiding, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts pulled themselves together.

They continued their ancient duties and they welcomed the broken and lost who came to them for healing and purpose, and, slowly, they all began to settle into their new normal.

The Cloak rode on the shoulders of Kaecilius now and nudged and helped him along in his new role. He was no Stephen. But he was someone.

He got the job done, perhaps not as elegantly as Stephen, perhaps not in the same ways, but he was not the same man the Cloak had once fought against. And it had to admit, even with the pain it felt from Stephen's death, he was a comfort. He had experienced his own pain and loss and the Cloak was shocked to find Kaecilius offering it comfort, but it needed it and accepted it.

The years began to crawl by, a new world order settling in, and the Cloak continued to help Kaecilius.

Until this day. Until this day, when it failed again.

When another master fell.

They had been fighting an interdimensional being, Kaecilius sending quick and clever spells at it, creating shields, determined to send it back to where it had come from or to slay it if he had to, and the Cloak flew, knowing his intentions and needs, and moving him away and protecting him when he needed it. They made a good team.

But then the being hurled magic at them and caught the Cloak and it flailed and pulled, feeling its seems popping, magic wildly going in all directions, and there was a heavy hit and then-

Its broaches were empty.

Twisting, looking, searching, the Cloak saw him plummeting away, tumbling through the air, twisting and still managing to fire a spell at the being.

It ripped itself free with the pop of seams and dove, dove faster than it may ever have. It could not lose another master. It could not have someone else fall. Not so soon after Stephen.

The Cloak dove, reaching for Kaecilius, aiming for his shoulders, his arm, anything-

The Cloak caught him, catching his arm, and it wrapped around him tightly, trying to catch him, and it shot through a portal Kaecilius had made, stopping them from hitting the ground that was now of no danger to them. Kaecilius brushed its hem with his fingertips and then swirled it back onto his shoulders, so similar to how Stephen had.

"We need to finish." he said simply, so they flew back up.

They were able to handle it and send it home after that, with some effort, but with no more falls.

Afterward, they went home, Wong was informed, Kaecilius's injuries treated, and then they went back to the Sanctum.

Kaecilius pulled out a sewing kit and red thread, enchanted especially for repairs to the Cloak. It had been a long time since it had needed repair like this and Kaecilius spread it across his lap, beginning to mend the popped stitches and seams.

He sang softly under his breath in his native tongue, and it was soothing, calming the Cloak. It still felt a whirlwind inside. It had nearly lost another master. It had let Kaecilius fall.

"I know that scared you, my friend. Not as it scared me. You thought you had lost another, did you not?" Kaecilius asked as he lined up a popped seam, deftly sewing it back together.

The Cloak knew better than to really move, so it waggled its collar instead.

"I know you have lost many. I know the pain you must feel. The broken things Kamar-Taj collects are not merely humans, hmm?" Kaecilius said and the Cloak had never thought of itself as a broken thing before.

It supposed it was, in human terms. Though not human, all its losses throughout its existence had affected it, picked at it like the seams that had popped in this battle.

"I do not blame you for dropping me, you know. You are not invincible. Accidents happen. I know you did not mean to. But we are both here. Remember that." Kaecilius continued, the thread pulling it back together.

He hummed the song again, finishing the work quickly enough, and when he was done, the Cloak flew up and flared out, showing him his handiwork. Kaecilius smiled.

"Smuk." he said, and the Cloak preened.

It understood many languages, and it, of course, knew it was beautiful.

But after a moment it let its heavy cloth drop and Kaecilius reached out, running his hand over it.

There was nothing to say, nothing to be done. But Kaecilius knew that and offered comfort, letting the Cloak settle back into place and wrap around him like a blanket.

It held him tight. It had seen so many falls. It did not want to see another, not so soon after the last.

Chapter Text

He should have been happy. The future he had seen had come about, the future he had tried so hard to guarantee, the future he had asked Tony to sacrifice his life for, it had come to pass. It had come to pass even better than he had seen.

There had been a four million, six hundred, sixth future that Stephen had not seen, he supposed.

A future where Tony Stark lived, albeit missing a few pieces.

Others had been lost, but Tony had lived, and those who had died facing Thanos for a second time, or a first time (depending on who they were), were buried with the respect and honor they deserved.

The world was reeling again, and Stephen knew he had created more chaos. People who had moved on suddenly found themselves faced with the loved ones they had let go, and that complicated all manner of things, such as relationships and marriages and children who had been born.

Often, those who came back, feeling as though mere seconds had passed, found those they had loved had died in the past five years.

In all, it was a mess, and somehow, though he had not been the one to travel through time and gather the stones and snap his fingers, Stephen felt guilty for this new chaos, too.

He felt guilty for all the lives that had just been upended again, all the lives that had been sacrificed for that second fight with Thanos.

Maybe it was arrogant or vain, or making it all about him, but it had been his actions five years ago that had brought them to this future, this mess, this storm of joy, pain, and every human emotion in the universe. It had been his fault.

So much had changed in five years and so much had not, and Stephen felt like he was being eaten alive by the guilt, the anxiety, the grief that had decided to make a home inside him.

When he had gotten back to Kamar-Taj, things were different. Wong was Sorcerer Supreme. The Ancient One could, and did, fully and successfully channel dimensional energy into her body and her brain, and the only sign of her injuries were her scars and the cane she used sometimes. Kaecilius had been accepted back into the Masters of the Mystic Arts, and was Master of the New York Sanctum.

He learned that Li, Wong's sister, had been Snapped. Oh, how Stephen hated the terms those who remained had come up with over the years. Snap, Snapped, Dusted, Blip, Blipped. It all sounded insanely childish, and like they were avoiding the real facts. People had died. They had died, and they had been brought back. But that wasn't the correct thing to say. Someone in the aftermath had corrected him to his face when he had dared use the improper terminology, and Stephen had wanted to snarl.

Now, sitting like a lost child, the Cloak wrapped around him like a blanket, on the steps in Kamar-Taj, he wanted to scream. Or cry. Or hit something. You would think a battle that had involved killing alien after alien would have relieved him of the desire to hit something, but there had been little time to think or feel these emotions then.

There was now and it was gnawing at him, chewing up his insides, making it hard to think, making it hard to look at anyone. And he was the monster now.

He had accepted that, didn't care, because it had been for the best, their best future, but it hurt more knowing that soon he would be the monster, and he couldn't and wouldn't deny any of that. He knew that, had known that, and accepted it. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

There had been a shocking number of hugs and reunions when he had come back and so far, no one in Kamar-Taj blamed him for anything. It wasn't that he wanted people to yell at him or snap at him or anything like that, but he felt they were being too kind for what he had done.

Kamar-Taj had new faces, more members, and Wong had changed things too, but in all, it hadn't really changed that much, and Stephen was glad for that.

The empty Eye hung around his neck and there was nothing to do with it now, no importance to it, but its weight was a comfort, a reminder that he had done the right thing.

He needed to talk to a lot of people. A lot of people wanted to talk to him. But right now, there was someone he needed to talk to before the rest of them.

He got up and eased the Cloak back just a little, so he could move, and he was glad to have his old friend with him, knowing that they had been by Kaecilius's side these past five years. He tried not to wonder who, in the end, the Cloak would choose to remain with.

He stepped away from the typical activity in Kamar-Taj and made a portal, taking himself to a hospital with little warning. No knocking on the door, but he was sure he could be forgiven for coming directly in.

Pepper Potts looked up when he opened the portal and stepped through, sitting at her husband's bedside. In the days since the battle, Stephen had not been brave enough to return here. He had helped heal Tony, had helped him make it, but as soon as he had not been needed, he had left.

That guilt bit deeply into him, because the future had demanded Tony's sacrifice, he had guided them to that future, had told Tony this was the one, and though Tony had chosen to sacrifice himself, Stephen had put them on this path. And he had not died, he was alive and would be well again some day, and Stephen had chosen to sacrifice him.

Tony was alive, but he was broken. His right arm, ear, and eye were gone, removed because the damage had been too severe, and the right side of his face and neck would be terribly scarred.

"Doctor Strange. Hi." Pepper said, getting to her feet.

Tony was sleeping- he would be sleeping for a long time or afloat in a haze of drugs whenever he was awake because the pain was severe- and he looked oddly small and vulnerable in the hospital bed, hooked up to equipment, and Stephen turned his attention to Pepper.

There were lifetimes where he would know her, befriend her, even fall in love with her. This was not one of those, however. This was a future he had never seen, and he was suddenly struggling, because he knew so much about her and she knew so little of him.

He knew she was allergic to strawberries, that her favorite color was a smoky blue like her Rescue suit. He knew she loved Tony Stark more than anyone else, that love only trumped by the love for their child. He knew her daughter's name was Morgan, named after an eccentric uncle. He knew tics and how she smiled and the words she would say in comfort.

He knew so many things about Tony, too.

And what did they know about him?

He was a Master of the Mystic Arts, stubborn, willing to sacrifice others, had brought them to this future, and that he was a monster.

"Mrs. Potts, I wanted... I wanted to say I'm sorry." Stephen said, forgoing the return of her greeting.

Pepper blinked and stared at him.

"Sorry? For what?" she asked blankly.

Oh.

She hadn't seen. She didn't know. She undoubtedly knew that he had been the cause of everything five years ago, but she didn't know he had orchestrated the future to what he had thought would be the sacrifice of her husband.

"I told Tony to do it. To take the Stones and Snap. And as far as I had seen, he was never going to survive it. I made sure the future went accordingly so it would come to that." Stephen confessed and his voice was a whisper.

He hadn't had to tell her that. He knew Tony likely would. It did not take a weight off his chest, but she had the right to know and now she did.

"Doctor Strange... Can I call you Stephen?" Pepper said, her face unreadable.

He nodded.

"Stephen, maybe you saw the future and did your best to make it come to this, but you must know that Tony is Iron Man. Not how everyone says it, but through and through, he is. Avenger, defender, superhero. Five years ago, he went to rescue you, and I didn't want him too because I was afraid for him. But that's just who he is." Pepper told him firmly and maybe those words should have made him feel better.

They didn't. There were times when words were not a comfort of any sort, and now was one of those times.

Pepper invited him to stay, but Stephen couldn't. He couldn't sit there and look at Tony without the guilt eating at him more and he declined. He had come to say he was sorry, and he had done that.

He fled, leaving as quickly as he had come.

The days in Kamar-Taj seemed to crawl by, as everyone who had died tried to adjust to things, and Stephen found that he was isolating himself. He couldn't look at Wong without guilt.

His actions had caused Li to die for five years. He had killed his friend's sibling, and Stephen knew better than anyone what it was like to lose your siblings. He had surely done it to millions, billions, of people, he knew he had, but inflicting that pain on someone he cared about... It made him feel sick to his stomach.

He saw how the siblings were interacting with each other, making up for lost time, Wong not quite certain that this was real, that he wouldn't turn around and find Li gone again.

When Kaecilius had gotten to say goodbye to his lost loved ones, so had Stephen. He had gotten to talk to Donna and Victor and his parents and say goodbye. But he felt a sudden deep jealousy on top of the guilt, because people had their lost loved ones back and he never would. It was not a feeling he would act on or go down some terrible road like Kaecilius had in his grief, but it mingled with the grief and the guilt and made the guilt even more, because he was jealous of Wong's happiness.

It wasn't so hard to settle back into things, even if it was hard to learn the changes of the world over the past five years.

But none of it made the grief any easier to bear. Stephen watched the news and saw the papers and everything else, and it did nothing for his emotions.

He had done this. He had caused all of this.

One afternoon in Kamar-Taj, he was sitting at the top of the steps leading down to a courtyard and watching the rain pour down in heavy sheets, the air cool and clean, and the Cloak was wrapped around him again. The rain seemed to fit what he was feeling inside. But he also felt like he was slowly bleeding and there was nothing to be done for it, no surgery, no spell, nothing that could fix what was being torn inside him.

The Ancient One came and sat down silently beside him, propping her cane between them, as if using it to show him she would not cross a line he was uncomfortable with.

"I thought I might find you here." she said after a time.

"I could have been anywhere." Stephen pointed out.

"There is something comforting in watching the world be gray and dim as the rain pours when it matches how you feel." The Ancient One said and she was so different than how he had left her.

She was so like herself before she had fallen, before she had gotten hurt, and his brain helpfully reminded him that he still felt guilty about the damage he had caused her body when he had saved her. More emotions ate at him, relishing in what they were devouring.

"How do you know how I feel?" Stephen asked bluntly.

"Because I prevented countless terrible futures, and sometimes there was one that was best, but it was terrible in its own ways all the same." The Ancient One told him, and Stephen had never thought to ask her about it.

"I don't mind being the monster. I've accepted that I am. But I... I didn't realize how it would all truly feel, when I chose that future." Stephen confessed, swallowing hard.

"You never are. No matter how many times you look at a future and are sure it is the right one, it never gets any easier. And if it did, if you did not feel as you did, you would not be human any longer." The Ancient One told him.

"I didn't snap my fingers and turn millions into dust. I didn't snap my fingers and bring them back, upending the lives of everyone who was finally healing from the first time all over again. I didn't do any of that. But I gave Thanos the Stone." Stephen said and swallowed again.

"My actions, my decision on the future, caused so much pain and grief. I caused so much, and... I made Wong and Hamir lose Li. Daniel was gone, and so many others just here... I took an oath to save lives, and I did. But I broke so many of them, too. I set up the future for a man to sacrifice himself. And yet somehow the future I saw and planned for wasn't the one we came to" he said quietly.

He sniffed and wrapped the Cloak tighter around himself.

"Please don't tell me it's not about me. I know it's not. But I can't shake this guilt, this grief. I am trying so hard, but everywhere I look I see what that decision I made five years ago did and I just... I can't." Stephen said and he felt like he was choking.

"I was not." The Ancient One promised. "I wanted to tell you that it is all right to grieve. You are allowed this pain. I know how you are feeling. There were so many futures I picked and pushed the world toward and so many results and consequences of them. I felt guilt and grief for each one, even if it was all for the greater good."

"How can I look at them? How can I rejoin the rest of the masters? They know what I did, and I know what I did, and I wouldn't blame them for hating me. I took their loved ones. I made the decision for the entire world. I lost our most important relic. I could have stopped Thanos from doing exactly what he did and even though this was the best future, I gave him the power to do something terrible. I look at them, at everyone, at the world, and I just feel... It's all eating me alive. It's consuming me and I can't stop it." Stephen whispered, feeling lost and pathetic.

He had seen the future, and he had been prepared for it, but not as well as he should have. He felt sick to his stomach and that if he opened his mouth wide enough, blood would pour out, or some liquid form of the emotions filling him.

The Ancient One reached out and took his hand, just as she had on that balcony so many years ago now.

"It is all right to grieve." she repeated to him.

They lapsed into silence and Stephen gripped her hand back, staring at the rain, trying to breathe. He wished it was a physical wound in him, not emotions eating him alive. A physical wound was something he knew how to deal with, how to fix and let heal. This... This was something he did not. Even after all the pain and grief in his life, he did not know how.

He began to cry, hunching over a little, pulling the Cloak tighter around himself, and ugly, gut-wrenching sobs tore themselves from his chest. He didn't know if he could ever recover from this. He didn't know how.

But The Ancient One moved her cane aside and shifted closer to him, letting Stephen lean against her shoulder like he might collapse without her support.

And, in all honesty, he was afraid that he would. All his visions of the future hadn't prepared him for this.

Chapter Text

For five years, Kaecilius had worked to regain the trust and respect of his fellow masters. He had never wanted or expected to be a Sanctum Master, but when Wong had asked him following the aftermath of Thanos, Kaecilius had accepted.

Everything had been a mess and if their new Sorcerer Supreme deemed him worthy of the role that needed to be filled, to help restore balance their unbalance world, then despite his own misgivings about himself, Kaecilius was willing to do it.

He had done it well, and he could say that without any bit of vanity. Wong, The Ancient One, Hamir, and others had told him that, and having a purpose had felt good. He had taken the powers and knowledge he had acquired over the years and put it to good use for the Masters of the Mystic Arts again, and that felt good, too.

Kaecilius had never expected for the Cloak of Levitation to partner with him either, but he knew in its grief it probably helped, and he accepted the companionship. He had grown rather fond of the relic, and flying... Flying was something he loved more than he told anyone.

He had worked hard to earn his place back among his fellow sorcerers, to earn their trust and respect and make them realize he was not going to turn around and make another deal with Dormammu, and it was worth.

Five years, and then everything had changed again.

Everyone had been brought back and Kaecilius was glad for it, glad that Stephen had chosen such a future, but there were also difficulties to navigate afterward.

One of them being who was the Master of the New York Sanctum.

Kaecilius had grown accustomed to his place and his duties, but Stephen was back now, and Kaecilius had only been named Sanctum Master because Stephen was gone. And that... Was awkward.

Kaecilius had not taken over Stephen's old rooms and eventually the man moved back in, and that was fine. Kaecilius appreciated the company in the large, empty house. After he had recovered from the things eating away at him, Stephen began to return to his duties, and that was where the most problems occurred.

The Cloak went back to him and Kaecilius missed its constant companionship, but he knew how much Stephen meant to it and had known that if given the choice, the Cloak would always pick Stephen over him. That was fine.

What wasn't fine was when they both went running to do the same thing, or someone came to one of them instead of the other, and conflicts were rising.

Things really started to rise when there was something that the Sanctum Master needed to handle, a job easily handled by one of them because of their power and skill, no need to bring someone else along. Kaecilius immediately turned to go handle it... And so did Stephen.

"What are you doing? It's not a job for two people." Stephen said, frowning at him.

"I am doing my duty." Kaecilius replied briskly.

"So am I." Stephen said and they stared at each other.

The Cloak fluttered softly on Stephen's shoulders, seeming uncomfortable.

Once, Kaecilius would have said something biting and fought for this, argued, corrected, and gone to do it. But now... He stepped back and let Stephen do it, even if it made him grit his teeth.

He felt... He did feel replaceable, truth be told. Like he had been a temporary fix, a stopgap, a substitute, and despite his friendship with Stephen, it hurt. Of course, Stephen would resume his old role, no questions needed. Kaecilius would of course step down and find something else to do with himself.

Wong had said nothing, and no one had questioned Stephen coming back to the Sanctum, not even Kaecilius. Kaecilius hated the way it stung him. He hated feeling hurt and replaceable, and resenting the man he considered a friend.

Things continued and soon it became clear that the Sanctum was being run in a mess, things unstable between him and Stephen, and even their fellow masters were confused. Some, talking to Kaecilius, asked for Stephen. Others asked for Kaecilius when talking to Stephen. Perhaps it should have been natural that they team up and split the duties, but that was not how Sanctum Masters worked. There were never two at the same Sanctum at the same time. No one knew what to do and among everything that was happening, it sort of slipped between the cracks of things that needed to be handled.

More and more, people reverted to the past, accepting Stephen as Sanctum Master, and Kaecilius was left with a bitter taste on his tongue, part of him wondering what he had spent these last five years working for. Respect and a place among his fellow sorcerers again, and then... Just set aside despite everything.

A little bitter part of him whispered that he had been Sanctum Master longer than Stephen ever had. So why would they go to Stephen and not to him? Because Stephen had never been evil. Because Stephen had saved them. Because he was better than Kaecilius was, and there was no need to stare at him and wonder if he would turn around and betray them again. Even after five years, those words and rumors still traveled through Kamar-Taj.

Trying to figure out how to voice his feelings made Kaecilius fear that he sounded like a whiny child, however, so he swallowed his emotions and did his best to work with what he could.

He stayed away, quietly doing things around the Sanctum, and it wasn't too long before Stephen approached him. Tensions had risen to the snapping point, and it was high past the time to talk.

"Kaecilius, what has been going on? You've been quiet lately and disappear, and I can never find you, even when you're here. Neither can anyone else." Stephen demanded, the Cloak flowing around him.

"I am staying out of the way."

"Why?"

"Why? I think you know, Stephen."

"Obviously I don't, because I'm asking." Stephen said and Kaecilius sighed.

"Who would you say is Master of the New York Sanctum?" he asked, turning to face his friend.

"Me-" Stephen began and broke off. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

"For you, it was the blink of an eye, and despite everything, I know you have not thought of some things. I was named in your place, Stephen. For five years. Not many trusted me at first, but I was needed, the order needed help, and I did as I was asked. And I am good at it." Kaecilius explained and ran a hand over his face.

"I am not trying to sound as if I am jealous of you or anything, but... I worked and fought for the respect and trust I have now. It took a long time, because of my past. But I earned it. Then you come back, and..."

"And I took back over like nothing happened." Stephen supplied and Kaecilius shook his head.

"It is not only that. Often they go to you now. And it feels... It feels as if all that work was for nothing. As if what I gained means nothing. As if I were merely a substitute. You are the best of us, you should have been Sorcerer Supreme, but fate and circumstance brought us to this moment instead. Of course you would be the one they trust and go to." he said, and his voice was not bitter.

Soft and displaying more hurt than he wished to, and Stephen's expression softened.

"I never meant to hurt you, Kaecilius. I just... I didn't think. I wanted everything to be normal because it's the same and it isn't. I'm sorry." he said, hands twitching, like he wanted to do something but didn't know what.

"It is all right. I know you meant no harm. I will go to Wong in the morning and tell him I am handing it back to you." Kaecilius said heavily.

It was for the best, really. He had never anticipated this and had never really wanted it, and yet it was a purpose, something he was good at, something he had made a difference by doing.

"What? No. You've been Sanctum Master longer than I ever was, and you've clearly done a damn good job. I didn't think and I didn't ask. I'll step down." Stephen said, looking shocked.

"Please do not turn this into an argument about who should give up the role. I am in no mood for such ridiculousness." Kaecilius said sharply.

"Oh, trust me, I don't want to turn into a TV cliche either."

"And you, Stephen, were chosen by the Sanctum herself. I was merely your replacement." Kaecilius pointed out.

"She accepted you." Stephen countered. "You are not my replacement, Kaecilius. You feel like that, don't you?"

Kaecilius didn't want to answer that, because it did sound almost as childish as he had feared it would when said aloud. He looked away.

"All right, that's it. There's one way to solve it, and we're doing it now." Stephen said decisively.

"I hope you are not suggesting we ask the Sanctum to choose like a pet between owners." Kaecilius said and the Sanctum creaked around them.

She didn't like that idea either and would adamantly refuse them if they attempted it.

"No, we go to Wong. He's the Sorcerer Supreme; it's part of his job. We make it his problem." Stephen said briskly and walked away.

Kaecilius followed and though he was no longer librarian, it was no surprise to find Wong in the library. Old habits died hard, and Kaecilius knew the library and its simple work were a comfort for the Sorcerer Supreme. So was the cage fighting he did and that Kaecilius had participated in himself a time or two, but that was between them.

"Wong!" Stephen barked and the man looked up.

Kaecilius had not always been the most respectful of masters, but even he cringed at the sharp address for the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Yes, Stephen?" Wong asked gruffly.

"We have a problem and since you're the Sorcerer Supreme, it's your problem now." Stephen announced and Kaecilius stifled a chuckle.

Wong looked between them and sighed, beckoning them deep into the private study of the librarian. They all sat around the table and Wong looked at the two of them.

"What is it?"

"Which of us do you want for the Master of the New York Sanctum?" Stephen asked bluntly.

"And this is something you can not solve between yourselves?" Wong asked, seeming exasperated.

"I think you must know we have not." Kaecilius said, though he would still retire if it was simpler.

"I suppose this is why the Sanctum is being run in such a messy way? I have had masters complaining about the both of you." Wong said and they both winced.

"I will step down-"

"No, this is Wong's decision." Stephen cut in.

Wong sat there, looking between them, and he had his hands clasped and resting on the table.

"Must I break out the words 'a house divided cannot stand'? You two have been proving it well." he said and sighed. "This was the one thing I thought I would not have to handle, though we did not lose many masters in prominent positions. Kaecilius, you have done your duties admirably. You have served us for five years under the role, and done it well. Stephen, you were chosen by the Sanctum and though you were her master for far lesser time, you also served well."

Kaecilius fully expected what was coming next. It was coming back to their decision and they were going to have that childish argument he wished to avoid.

"I chose one of you, and the Sanctum chose the other, and I know the Sanctum will refuse to make the choice. I would rather not pick between the two of you. Not because I am afraid of hurting either of your feelings- that has no business here- but because I find you both equally qualified for the job." Wong said and Stephen scowled.

"Great job making a decision there, Wong." he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Things have changed over the years. We have shown more lenient for dark magic. We have had masters step into roles they might not necessarily have been ready for. We have our lost ones back. And I suppose we must change with them." Wong said, giving Stephen a look that would have sent students scurrying away with many bows.
Stephen bore it without a care.

"I want to hear no more talk of who will step down from either of you. Both of you will be Master of the Sanctum. If things run smoothly, we will try it with the other Sanctums.

This is a new time for the Masters of the Mystic Arts." Wong continued and Kaecilius and Stephen looked at each other.

This was a surprise. So many things had remained unchanged among the Masters of the Mystic Arts for so many years that change seemed so... Shocking. But Wong was right, and even The Ancient One had acknowledged that perhaps she had not changed some things that should have changed long ago, even if it had worked.

Wong dismissed them and Kaecilius and Stephen walked back to the Sanctum together, both turning over this unexpected moment in their minds.

"Well, I think we can make it work." Stephen said as they walked through the Sanctum doors.

"I would not be surprised if Wong was waiting for us to come this decision on our own and is now thinking we are quite foolish for not doing so." Kaecilius said and he did feel quite foolish.

But there had never been two masters guarding a Sanctum at a time, even if masters came to assist frequently. It was simply not something that even seemed to be a possibility.

"Son of a bitch. I think you're right." Stephen said, scowling. "That's Wong for you, I guess. Already channeling the mystery of the Sorcerer Supreme."

"I am up for the challenge if you are, Mister Doctor." Kaecilius said and Stephen smiled at Kaecilius's nickname for him.

"Oh, I'm up for it." Stephen said and they shared a smile, the Sanctum doors shutting silently behind them.

Chapter Text

Throughout the Multiverse, powers were seen as a curse, as a blessing, as nothing unusual as well. The universes that considered them blessings were almost more frightening than the ones that considered them curses, to be honest, and America was sure to lay low in those worlds. No matter the views of the universe she visited, she was still very unsure of what to call her own powers.

She wanted to find her moms. But... She didn't think she would. She had killed them. She knew she had.

If not directly- because she had survived the portal and she was just a kid- then by dumping them somewhere dangerous they couldn't survive in.

But she still looked, and she wondered what she would do if she wound up home. It was home... But it wouldn't be home without her moms.

For years, America traveled the Multiverse unintentionally, never able to harness her powers, and the vacuum her powers created frightened her, scared her more than whatever triggered that burst of power deep inside of her.

Luckily, she never dragged someone from the universe again. But she was always terrified that she would, and that if anyone learned of her powers, they would want to use them for bad things or study her like some animal in a cage.

She laid low. She learned the rules of the new universe, observed carefully. Traded, stole, found whatever means of survival that she could. And then, inevitably, something would trigger her powers, and she would be sucked into that vacuum, feeling as if her organs would be pulled from her body or her skin stripped from her bones if she tried to resist, and then she would go tumbling through strange places until she finally landed somewhere new.

As she grew older, America decided that her powers, however useful they might be if she could just control them, were a weapon. They were something that caused hurt, pain, and destruction, even if the destruction was minor, and that seemed like a weapon to her.

It was better that she didn't make any true connections. It was better that they dragged her to a new universe sooner rather than later, because there was always the chance that what had happened to her moms would happen again.

She, America Chavez, was a living weapon.

Too dangerous to stay, too dangerous to get close to, too dangerous to love. Inevitably, she would just hurt someone again.

She wondered if there were variants of herself out there somewhere, variants who knew ow to control their power, and maybe they could teach her. But as she traveled by accident, every time she was truly afraid and opened a new portal, she never found one, and she tried so hard. There was not another one of her out there. There was no one to help her with her powers.

America was truly alone, dangerous and uncontrollable, and that was probably for the best. She stayed that way for years, lost, alone, searching, hoping, and moving whenever her powers flew beyond her control.

But then came the day someone wanted to hurt her instead, and she went fleeing through more Multiverses than ever, monsters tracking her, terror in her heart.

It felt like she was even more right about her powers, that they were a weapon that someone coveted, that someone wanted badly enough to chase her through universes for, and America became more frightened each time her power exploded out of her in an uncontrollable force.

As she fled, that was when she met Stephen Strange. Doctor Stephen Strange, a sorcerer, knowledgeable in magic and the Multiverse.

As she ran through his world, fleeing, hoping to hide he had suddenly appeared as if from thin air and swept her into the doors of his Sanctum, sheltering her, protecting her from the monster that was chasing her, eliminating it with effort but still doing it all the same.

America was frightened and wary of him, but he was kind to her and spoke to her in Spanish, and soon enough she was telling him about her past and everything else. He was the Sorcerer Supreme of his universe and it was his job to oversee its protection, and the threat to her was a threat to his world. America wasn't sure why she trusted him so easily, so quickly. But after being alone so long, it was nice to have someone.

Stephen told her that he did believe her powers could be taken from her, with the right spell (a dark spell) and that was what her pursuer wanted. What was chasing her was dark magic and he spoke gravely and briefly about something called the Darkhold, about her being in it. He also spoke of its anti-thesis, The Book of Vishanti, and how it might be able to help them both.

As they talked and got to know each other, as America basked in having someone for the first time in a long time, of having a friend, peace, and safety in some form, he also told her about his theories of dreams being windows into Multiversal selves, of allowing you to peer into the life of your variants. And if he was right, that explained so much about America herself.

She never dreamed.

Their peace was soon disturbed again and they were fleeing across the Multiverse, his hand always wrapped around hers, making sure they weren't separated, willingly going with her wherever they might end up. America couldn't express her gratitude for that in any language she knew, but she thought Stephen might know.

There were nights when they had to stop running on their travels, on their search for a way to the Gap Junction where The Book of Vishanti was hidden, where America curled up against him, soaking in his warmth and the way he sat guard over her. It was almost like having a parent again, having that feeling her moms had given her.

But still they were chased, still she was chased, right into the Gap Junction by a relentless ribbon monster, and they fled through that strange broken place, and it looked like they were going to make it.

Until the creature got ahead of them, until Stephen was injured, until he couldn't contain it and looked at her with a regretful, broken look that chilled America to the bone.

Then he betrayed her. Part of her understood it, but she couldn't forgive it, couldn't forget it, as he tried to steal her power, causing her so much pain, such agony, agony that would kill her. He apologized and America wanted to sob and scream more than she was, because he was her friend, she finally had someone, and he was killing her.

She was no more than a weapon, a weapon to be kept out the hands of an unknown enemy, and it broke something deeply in America. She was just a weapon to be kept away from the 'wrong' people, and how was she to know that the man she had come to call her friend wasn't the wrong person either?

But he was disrupted. He was killed. And in the end, he did sacrifice the last of his strength to make sure the monster didn't get her, but America didn't even know anymore if that was because he cared about her or simply to keep her out of the hands of whoever wanted her.

Of course, she met another Stephen Strange in the next universe she landed in. Still chased, still pursued, she was scared of him at first, and Wong (she had never met a Wong before), but then, against her better judgement, America quickly began to trust him a little.

Even as he accidentally handed her over to the very woman chasing her, even as he scared her, even as he blew up at her, yelling that he could have done better when she accidentally took them somewhere else, America didn't abandon him, and not out of guilt.

She couldn't blame him for being angry with her, because they had left his loved ones behind, and she knew what it was like to have them ripped away, even if he had chosen to save her and come with her. It was a painful thing.

And yet, America still felt like a weapon when Wong said there was no other option left but for this other Stephen to take her powers. Something fought over, coveted, something less than human.

She understood, though. She was too dangerous. Too powerful. Maybe this was why she had been born, and maybe she was never meant to keep her power. It was okay. She told him that. She understood it. She could accept it.

But Stephen encouraged her. He decided to fight for her, to not give up, to give her a chance, and... And she controlled her powers for the first time.

Stephen Strange, this Stephen Strange, was someone who loved her despite the fact they hardly knew each other, someone who cared, someone who wouldn't betray her, someone who would protect her.

Afterward, after everything, they wanted to keep her in Kamar-Taj. Stephen promised to help her find her parents. America was offered a home, a real home, for the first time since she was a little girl. And she surprised herself by accepting.

She was introduced to The Ancient One, Kaecilius, Daniel, Tina, Li, and so many more, mentors, fellow students, people all important to Stephen and Wong. She was put into training. And magic was so much harder than she would have thought, so much harder than even her portals (which she was still figuring out, but for the first time, she had time and the chance and understanding to do so).

In Kamar-Taj, America found a family again, a place to call home. And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a weapon anymore.

Chapter Text

Despite the destruction of the Golden Daggers Club, there was a still a booming underground fight scene for those interested. Mutants, magic-wielders, and more. Wong was still taking advantage of it, to train, to prepare himself against a variety of opponents, and as a sort of therapy. Due to the rules of the fights, it was a good way to work out his emotions without worrying about sending students or his fellow masters to the hospital.

And right now, Wong felt the deep need to take out his emotions that way, because he had no other outlet, because he didn't want to talk about it.

Kamar-Taj was recovering nicely. Students were training again. They had recovered. For now, there was no crisis, but of course there would soon be another. The work of the Masters of the Mystic Arts was never done.

But for now, he needed this and he had the time, and honestly, it helped bring in money of the Masters of the Mystic Arts.

Kaecilius joined him. They had gone to the Golden Daggers Club together and Wong knew Kaecilius needed the outlet, too. Wong didn't mind his company; in fact, in light of what had happened, he felt a closer connection to the other sorcerer, a deeper part in the relationship they had truly forged over these past few years. Kaecilius left the Sanctum in Stephen's capable hands and joined him, and they practiced in one of the 'cells' reserved for such a thing together.

Wong needed this, needed the escape from his thoughts and emotions and a way to get them out, because he felt guilty. He had come to care for America Chavez- though not quite as much as Stephen- and every time he looked at her, he remembered how he had told Stephen to take her powers. To kill her.

What kind of man, what kind of Sorcerer Supreme, wished for the death of a child? An innocent, scared child who had not asked for the powers she had been born with, who had not asked to be chased and coveted because of what she could do.

America did not blame him. Stephen did not blame him. The Ancient One had sat him down and told him that as Sorcerer Supreme, it was his duty to make such decisions, and she had made so many terrible decisions herself. But as much as he admired her, Wong did not want to be like her. Not like that.

As they practiced spell against mandala, Wong tried to banish the thoughts from his head, but they were still there and distracting him, as proven by Kaecilius skillfully hooking his leg out from beneath him and holding ones of his scythes to Wong's throat.

"Yield." Kaecilius commanded, his knee digging into Wong's sternum.

"I yield." Wong grunted and Kaecilius relented.

"What is on your mind, my friend? It is not like you to allow me to win so easily. Even when the fights are rigged." Kaecilius asked as he pulled him to his feet.

"It is not something I wish to speak of, Kaecilius." Wong said as they took up their positions again.

"You are not the Sorcerer Supreme here. Just Wong. And I have been forced to speak of things I did not wish to, on the off chance that it might help me, and it did several times. You know I would not tell a soul." Kaecilius said, flipping his scythe in his hand.

"No." Wong said and lunged at him.

Magic and blades collided again and Kaecilius skillfully switched between the two, which had always made him a popular fighter. Wong was rather good with a staff, but he preferred to use his spells and hone his magical strength, but Kaecilius switched it up, tucking a blade behind his back, casting a spell or crafting a new weapon in the blink of an eye.

Sparks flew, the blades (guarded by spells so they could only inflict minor cuts) whistled, and they kept practicing, warming up, and Wong was using the chance to get out some emotions.

But it wasn't making him feel better and he wondered if this was how Kaecilius had felt when he had taken his aggression out on students.

"Talk to me, Wong. You are distracted and you are liable to get hurt if you are, or cause more harm than you mean. We both know the rules are very bendable here, so long as no one is killed." Kaecilius finally said, after they had both won and loss several rounds.

Their practice was done now and all that was left was to wait until they were called. Kaecilius made a show of wiping off his blades.

Wong ignored him.

"Wong, I will tell on you to Li." Kaecilius threatened, and the childish threat almost made Wong snort.

But if Li got involved, she would give him no rest until he talked to her, because what else were big sisters for? When they were children, she had used to sit on him, his arms pinned beneath her knees, until he had finally told her what was wrong, if only because he wanted feeling in his arms back. She had not done that at any point during their adult years, but she had made the threat, and Wong honestly wouldn't put it past her to finally do it.

"Kaecilius..." he said warningly.

"Wong." Kaecilius said, staring at him straight on.

He blinked slowly, almost coyly, and Wong scowled at him again.

Kaecilius studied him thoughtfully.

"The girl, then?" he asked, and Wong froze internally.

"Girl?" he echoed, playing innocent.

"Miss America Chavez. The girl who holds both you and Mister Doctor in such high regards? I was under the impression that you cared for her, and yet you are avoiding her. You can not play dumb with me, Wong. I played avoidance and silence after Stephen brought me back. I can see you are doing the exact same thing." Kaecilius said and crossed his arms over his chest.

He struck an imposing figure, as he always did, and perhaps he had done so when he had been marked and branded by Dormammu, but the scars, as normal as they were, on his face gave a sharpness to his expression Wong did not know how to describe.

"Wong, I know you feel guilty for something that happened on Mount Wundagore involving the child. I might not know the whole story, but I do live in the Sanctum, and Stephen and America chatter like birds. I overhear things." Kaecilius said plainly and Wong took a deep breath.

He had only spoken to The Ancient One about it, briefly, and he knew it might do him some good to speak about it fully, to someone who couldn't offer advice on the burden of Sorcerer Supreme but could lend an ear. Sometimes it was better when someone couldn't do anything but listen.

"I told Stephen to kill her." he said, in the silence and privacy of the cell.

Kaecilius's eyes widened a fraction.

"Why?"

"I told him to take her powers so it would not fall into the wrong hands, and doing so would have killed her. There was no time, I couldn't hold for much longer, and Stephen was there. It seemed like the only option left to us. Either way, it seemed as though America would die. I just had to pick who did it." Wong said and the words came with such ease even he was surprised.

He expected harsh and nasty words, despite the peace that had grown in Kaecilius, despite the bond they had formed, almost like when he had failed to get the scepter from the witch all those years ago. But Kaecilius had changed for the better, even if he still kept a sharp tongue in his head.

"Wong, you are a wise man. A good Sorcerer Supreme. And I know you would never sacrifice someone, child or not, unless you wholly believed it was the only option left. Was it a heroic choice? No. Could it have saved lives? Yes. We as Masters of the Mystic Arts are trained to make such decisions in the blink of an eye, and most of all the Sorcerer Supreme." Kaecilius said firmly and Wong shook his head.

"It was never a choice I should have considered, Kaecilius!" he burst out and they were both startled by this.

"It was a choice you had to." Kaecilius countered.

"I wanted to kill her. I was no better than Stephen." Wong said, remembering what America had told them of the Strange she had labeled 'Defender' instead of 'other you' to save some time and confusion.

"Stephen wished to kill her as well?" Kaecilius asked, brow drawn.

"No. He fought for her. He almost sacrificed himself for her, and he would have, if necessary. He found another way, he did find the way to save her. I made her the sacrificial lamb." Wong said, shaking his head.

"We both know Stephen is foolishly stubborn."

"He was right. There was no need to even consider killing America. Yet that was the decision I made." Wong said and sighed heavily.

"Wong. You made the necessary decision you had to in the heat of battle, against a powerful enemy. You did the best that you could have done in a situation. There is no changing the past, and I wager if you had had the Eye of Agamotto in your hand, many futures would have told you the decision you came to was the right decision. You had no way to know that America would be able to gain control, that you would not be defeated, that Stephen would not die, or a thousand other things." Kaecilius said, his tone sharp.

He crossed the space between them and came to stand beside Wong.

"There is nothing to be done for it now. It is in the past and there is nothing to be done about it. All of us have made decisions we regret, whether they involved killing a child or not. The only thing we can do is move forward. America does not even blame you, Wong. She cares for you deeply." Kaecilius he said and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.
Wong could still feel the words in his mouth, hear them in his head.

"Strange! Take America's powers!"

Four simple words condemning a child to death. He had heard America accept it, in bits and pieces, and afterwards, she had told him that she didn't blame him. She had even hugged him.

Wong also knew that Kaecilius and The Ancient One were right and he had to move forward, that no one blamed him but himself.

"It will take time to forgive yourself for your actions. Do not let it take as long as it for me for you, my friend. Because I can tell you, that is no way to live. And America is waiting for you." Kaecilius said earnestly and someone banged on the glass just then, interrupting them.

"Wizards, you're up in five!" the man on the other side barked and both of them rolled their eyes at the word 'wizards'.

"Help me?" Kaecilius asked, tugging his hair from its customary ponytail.

The small rings in it still held it tight, but the ends were long and loose, and Wong twisted it back into a tight knot with no ends to grab. Kaecilius had learned the hard way that was a necessary precaution a few years ago. They finished and left, and tonight, it turned out they were being pitted against each other.

Almost laughable, since they had warmed up together, but sometimes, magic-on-magic was popular. And though Kaecilius had spoken to him and Wong had admitted what was weighing on him and he knew those around him were right, it had not made Wong feel any better.

The fight was a good way to get his emotions out, even if he was careful to check himself and make sure he didn't hurt Kaecilius or get careless. This fight was not a rigged one, allowing them to fight with abandon, and Kaecilius was quite a force to be reckoned with.

Shouts and cheers roared through the air, but Wong only had eyes for his opponent, who he knew but could always surprise him. It was a longer fight and Kaecilius triumphed tonight, proving that he had been right about Wong being distracted, but Wong hadn't gone down without a fight.

Both of them bore bruises and welts, and Kaecilius's lip was bleeding and swollen. Wong had a cut eyebrow. Despite the loss, Wong went on to fight a bit more tonight, and so did Kaecilius. By the time they left, both of them had earned some decent money.

Kaecilius headed for the kitchen of the Sanctum to get some ice, a first aid kit, and food after they left, and Wong would have followed had he not heard the wild laughter from the other room. Curious, he went to investigate, and discovered Stephen and America sitting on the couch together, Stephen's laptop in front of them, and they were watching... A video of the fight.

"I feel bad for laughing. That looks like it hurt." America said to Stephen.

"Wong knows what he's doing, and so does Kaecilius. He'll be fine." Stephen said, then spouted off some medical knowledge about force and angle of the way Wong had taken a blow and been ripped off his feet to the mats.

"He is fine." Wong said and they both jumped, Stephen slamming the laptop shut.

"How long have you been standing there?" Stephen asked guiltily.

"Long enough to know you two were laughing at my pain." Wong replied mildly.

"You just said you were fine." Stephen grumbled, America adding, "We got some dinner, and there's plenty of it since we haven't eaten yet. It's in the kitchen."

"Pizza?" Wong asked.

"What else?" Stephen said, rolling his eyes, but they both knew he had ordered and bought said pizza.

"Pizza is good! Seventy-two universes have it common, so obviously, it's important food if its a Multiverse constant." America said decisively.

"Let's go, kid. No need to make Wong relive his crushing defeat." Stephen said and they got up.

Wong joined them in the kitchen, where Kaecilius was washing the blood off his face, and Stephen and America did the honors of being doctor for them. Wong knew both of them were going to be aching in the morning, particularly him, but he didn't care. He felt... Better now that he had worked out some of his emotions in a physical way, but not entirely.

He sat at the table eating pizza with his friends and he found himself looking at America, the words still in his head, still in his mouth, as he looked at her. The guilt, too.

She was snickering as Kaecilius recounted his 'crushing defeat' of Wong and Stephen was smiling into his teacup, Wong quietly eating his dinner.

"You cost me twenty bucks, by the way." America said, glancing at Wong.

"Hmm?" he said, confused.

"I bet Stephen that you would win. He said you wouldn't. I'm still going to be betting on you, but you need to win next time so I get my money back." America informed him and Kaecilius let out a bark of laughter.

"Technically, you owed him that money, America. The last time you bet on Wong, the fight was rigged." he said, and America gasped in outrage.

"Great example for the kid, you two." Stephen said distastefully.

"You are the one teaching her to gamble." Wong countered.

"I already know how to gamble." America said and all three of them looked at her.

"What? The Ancient One taught me how to play poker." America said, taking an enormous bite of her pizza.

"I swear, there is nothing that woman doesn't know." Stephen muttered and the conversation continued, going in many various directions.

But before long, Wong excused himself, saying there was something he had to take care, but that was a lie. He just found he could not continue to sit at the table, looking at America, the guilt pressing heavily down on him. So he went back to Kamar-Taj and to his quarters, quietly lighting candles and incense.

He settled down to meditate, but it did not bring the peace that it usually did. Not when all he could think was that he had wished for a girl to die.

Chapter Text

It was the shouting that drew The Ancient One to the courtyard. In fact, it drew many people, masters, students, and novices alike.

It was so rare for shouting like to ring out in Kamar-Taj that it was almost alarming, and she quickly discovered the source, as it was not far from where she had been.

A portal had been opened in one courtyard and Stephen was coming out of it, dragging America with him, more masters following. All of them were battered in some manner or another.

"...Thinking?! Do you realize how utterly stupid that was, America?!" Stephen was thundering, and the wrath of Stephen Strange displayed like this was shocking.

The Ancient One had seen it displayed as cold and sharp but not shouted for the whole world to hear. It was so out of the normal for him that she was able to figure out what had happened very quickly. He was angry, yes, but he was also scared, and he was taking it out on America.

"I was thinking I could help you-" America began, and she was injured as well.

Both she and Stephen were wet, injured, and bloody, and the Cloak was fluttering helplessly on its master's shoulders, clearly not liking what was happening.

"No, you weren't thinking. You didn't use any thoughts in that decision." Stephen growled at America, staring down at her.

"But I-"

" 'But I' nothing, kid! You are a novice. And novices obey the masters and stay in Kamar-Taj!" Stephen shouted, looming over her, and The Ancient One could see he was shaking.

"Master Strange." The Ancient One called out and while her voice was not particularly loud, it carried.

Despite the fact she was no longer Sorcerer Supreme, she held much authority, and everyone stilled, save for the injured masters going off to be treated.

Stephen said nothing, but he and America were looking at her.

"Leave Miss Chavez to me and go get your injuries treated. I will take care of her." The Ancient One ordered, and Stephen opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut.

He stormed off, Cloak swirling around him, and The Ancient One beckoned America. She opened a portal close to her quarters and took the bedraggled girl there, sitting her down and having her remove her jacket.

She tsked softly over the injuries, scrapes and bruises, some cuts, one of them deep.

"Tell me what happened. Stephen will not yell at you here." The Ancient One said, fetching her supplies of medicines and potions.

America waited until she had sat down across from her, cane propped against the table, and was opening the wooden chest.

"Stephen was teaching a class when Kaecilius and some other masters came to get him for something. I heard them talking and I recognized it, because me and other Stephen, we'd faced it when we were running, but Stephen- our Stephen- didn't and neither did anyone else, not really. I just wanted to help, because they didn't know what to do." she began as The Ancient One selected a potion to clean out the wounds.

"Did you tell them that?" The Ancient One asked as she took America's arm.

"Well, I tried to, but Stephen left so fast and closed the portal in my face, told me stay here. So I made my own portal." America said and The Ancient One could see where this was going.

"Ah." she said, adding, "This is going to sting."

America yelped as she poured the potion on the cut to clean it out and it bubbled and frothed a little, cleaning out any dirt and debris from the wound. America held still, though, and took a deep breath.

"And what happened after you made the portal?" The Ancient One asked, though she could easily imagine.

She had dealt with many impatient students and novices, most notable Stephen and Kaecilius. This was not the first time she had encountered something like this.

"Well, I was able to go where they went, since I saw through Stephen's portal, and I stayed back to watch, to see if they actually needed help. And they did. Everyone was getting hurt. So I jumped in. I used the spells Stephen taught me too and I know I'm not too good yet- my portals are easier!- but I knew what to do. I remember what Defender did. But it all went wrong." America explained, keeping a brave face on as The Ancient cleaned away the froth and applied more.

"Did your magic fail? Or did Stephen see you?" The Ancient One asked.

"Both. He flew to get in front of me and left Rintrah open for attack, and then Nymeria tried to protect him and they got hurt. I tried to tell Stephen I knew what to do and he was yelling at me and then we both got hit. And that was only the start of it." America said, looking ashamed of herself.

As The Ancient One delicately cleaned, treated, and sometimes healed her injuries, America told her about the rest of it, how she and Stephen had argued, how he had tried to send her home, and how America had gotten away from him and tried the spell that was needed. It had worked, partially, and started turning the tide of the battle, though America herself had gotten flung into the nearby lake. And that alone explained Stephen's fear, The Ancient One knew, though he would never admit it.

"Everyone managed to get the spell and know what to do, and no one died. I mean, I did good, right? I got them the information they needed so everyone made it out." America said, looking so scared that the answer would be no.

The Ancient One sighed softly.

"It is far more complicated than that, America." she said, gently drawing a cloth across the girl's cheek.

"You did give them the information they needed, but you put yourself in danger, and by doing that, you placed the others in danger. Not only are you a novice, but you are just a child. No one would stand by and let harm come to you." she continued.

"Oh." America said, seeming to shrink in her chair.

"What you should have done was found a master and told them and had them deliver the message." The Ancient One chided gently.

"I didn't think of that. I guess Stephen was right." America said, mouth turning down at the corners.

"Partially, but I believe he has forgotten how exactly it feels to be a student, and a teenager." The Ancient One said, but that had not stopped her from being angry with the foolish students who had passed through Kamar-Taj over the years.

"He was right that you are a student, and you should obey the masters. They do often know better than you for a reason, America. They are more experienced than you, and better trained. You have not yet advanced very far in your studies. You were more likely to be harmed or killed than helpful in that situation."

"But-"

"Having visited seventy-three universes or not, you are new to the Mystic Arts, have only recently begun to have control over your unique powers. Almost everyone in Kamar-Taj is more experienced than you." The Ancient One interrupted and wiped a smear of blood away. "America, you are fairly injured, though not badly. I saw how badly Stephen was. How injured was he before you intervened?"

"He wasn't." America said and guilt flashed through her eyes.

"I am not saying that he wouldn't have been hurt- it is a rare mission where Stephen does not come back with some little injury- but I am saying he likely would not have been as hurt as he is if you had not thrown yourself into the middle of things." The Ancient One said and more guilt entered America's gaze.

"And everyone else, too." the girl mumbled.

The Ancient One gently cupped her cheek in her hand.

"America, everyone makes mistakes. Everyone is impatient. If you knew the half of what Stephen did when he was a student..." she said, shaking her head.

"What did he do?" America asked, curiosity bright in her voice.

"For starters, he decided he was ready to astral project, among other things, far before he was ready. I had to introduce him to the Mirror Dimension so he could train safely. He is lucky no accidents occurred while he projected on his own with no help or formal teaching."

"He gave me a lecture on that!" America exclaimed and The Ancient One smiled slightly.

"He also decided to experiment with the Eye of Agamotto and read The Book of Cagliostro. They were skills he needed, granted, but it was still quite a foolish thing to do. Time is a delicate thing, and he used it carelessly." The Ancient One said, weaving a spell over another injury.

This seemed to make America feel a little better and she did admit she had been wrong. But there was a difference in being wrong and doing the right thing, and this was one of those times where things got muddled on that line. The Ancient One knew it was likely severe injuries likely would have occurred had America not shared what she knew, perhaps even a life lost, but she could have informed a master, who would have carried the knowledge and information to those handling the threat.

But The Ancient One had been foolish herself when she was America's age, and when she had been a student. Even when she had been a fully-fledged master, even when she had been the Sorcerer Supreme. She understood why America had done what she had done, and why she hadn't thought to go find a master.

She ended up telling her about some of that too, handling all the injuries, but she did not tell America the whole reason Stephen was so scared.

"I think you do not realize just how much Stephen cares for you, America. He loves you, and you being in danger again, possibly getting hurt, that was one reason he was so upset. Sometimes when we are scared for the ones we love, we lash out. After everything you two have been through together, can you blame him?" The Ancient asked as she wrapped up the last injury.

All cleaned, all taken care of as needed, all would heal neatly if she had not handled them with a spell. America would be fine, and she had learned a very important lesson from this experience, at least.

They were having tea when there was a knock on the door, soft and cautious.

"Come in." The Ancient One said and the door opened.

Stephen stepped in, looking awkward.

He was in a similar state to America and still limping, favoring an arm as well, and America was clearly hit with guilt as she looked at him. She put her teacup down and stood up.

"Stephen, I-"

"No, kid. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I'm not saying you didn't mess up, but I should have handled it better than I did. I just... You really scared me, America." Stephen interrupted, holding up a hand.

"I know. I know. And I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't want anyone to get hurt and I messed that up. I should have gotten a master. I shouldn't have tried to fight." America said and Stephen sighed.

"I did a lot of things I shouldn't have when I was learning here. I still do them, if you hadn't noticed. I get it. I can't... I can't really talk about it right now, but when you went into that water and didn't come up, it..." he said, his voice cracking.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, taking another breath.

"I yelled because I was scared. And yeah, you did a stupid thing, which was another reason I yelled. No, you shouldn't have tried to fight. You've got amazing power and a lot of talent, but you aren't ready yet." Stephen said and his hands clenched almost convulsively.

"The Ancient One already talked to me about it. I won't do it again, I promise." America said and The Ancient One chuckled softly.

They both looked at her.

"I am not sure that is a promise you can keep, America. I have seen many students make it, and then break it. Stephen never made it, and I wouldn't have believed him if he had." she explained, pouring a third cup of tea.

Stephen glanced back over at her and met her gaze, and The Ancient One gave a small nod. She knew what he was asking. He might have lost his temper in his fright, but she understood why, and what he was asking. He was doing this right. And whether he realized it or not, Stephen was America's father now, and he had a lot to learn. He and America would learn together.

"I really am sorry, Stephen." America said, closing the space between them.

She wrapped Stephen in a hug and he looked startled, glancing at The Ancient One again, but this time she didn't need to nod or anything else.

"It's all right. We did need the information, and it did help." he said, wrapping his arms around America and squeezing her tightly.

"You did good, kid."

Chapter Text

America was having difficulty with her shields. She was better at offensive magic, truth be told, but Wong emphasized defensive magic over offensive, wanting to try something different than The Ancient One had before him.

America didn't see why you had to choose one over the other, because both were equally important and valuable, but she hadn't argued that with Wong. She could see the difference sometimes, of those who had trained under The Ancient One's teachings and the ones who had been taught or adapted to Wong's. Stephen was a mix of both, oddly enough, but she knew part of that was the oath he had taken, the oath to do no harm as a doctor, and despite all the years that had passed since he had made it, he still took in very seriously.

He was trying to instill the same thoughts in her, not to harm or kill without necessity. America didn't mind. She didn't think killing your enemy simply because they were your enemy was a good reason to kill them. If they were hurting you or someone else, then it was all right. Not if they had surrendered and you had them beat.

America cursed in Spanish as her shield failed again and this caught the attention of one of the masters supervising the groups of novices learning to cast spells and shapes, to train their bodies into the movements, squared off in groups of four. America was younger than most of them- Kamar-Taj's residents did have children, but not an overwhelming amount, and not all of them wanted to learn or were ready- and was facing off with three adults, who were novices as well but at least able to hold their shields.

"America Chavez, come here." Master Luxmi called out after signaling all the students to stop.

Everyone, a mix of colors in this exercise depending on skill, not rank, looked at her, and the two other masters who were monitoring paused as well.

"Yes, Master." America said, walking to the front of the courtyard.

No student ever got called to the front of class like this, and everyone was looking at her curiously. Sometimes she had been pulled from a lesson before by Stephen or Wong, who had a question about something she had encountered in another universe, but with no sign of either, she didn't think that was what was going on.

"Show us how you are casting your shield." Master Luxmi ordered and America obeyed.

Her weak shield appeared in the air before her, but she couldn't hold it and it disappeared. America winced, but while it frustrated her, Stephen had told her he had been very bad at magic at first, and that gave her a comfort. What happened next was humiliating, though.

Master Luxmi had her perform it again, in front of the entire class, and then proceeded to loudly and thoroughly tell everyone what she was doing wrong. Wrong stance, holding her hand wrong, not concentrating, thinking too hard... On and on, and America's cheeks burned.

She knew she wasn't doing it right, but usually the classes continued through the same thing until the end, when the master, or one of them if there had been more, approached the students who were struggling and talked about their issues more privately.

In this moment, America felt like she was nothing more than a doll or something, to be looked at and all her flaws observed. One of the other masters, Briar, who was helping with the lesson today, called out to Luxmi, but Luxmi had seniority and dismissed Briar quickly.

By the time class ended, America felt embarrassed and hadn't even been able to cast her shield outside a few spluttering sparks. Some of the other students tried to talk to her, as did Briar and Xavier, but America managed to slip away. She knew she had been doing badly, but being called out like that, her failure put on display like that in front of everyone when no one had ever done that before, dug deeply into her. She thought of going to The Ancient One because she was always good for a conversation, a cup of tea, and sympathetic ear, but another part of America didn't want to go crying to an adult about being embarrassed.

Instead, she found a training courtyard and while there were other people here, she didn't care. She stripped off her outer robes and strapped on a pair of training gloves, though she wouldn't be sparring with anyone else, and grabbed a staff. The courtyard had a few dummies on the edges for practice and she hauled one over to her area, deciding to practice something she knew she could do.

It also felt good to hit something, really good to just beat out her emotions on something, like it had to punch a portal in the air for the first time she could control it, a way to take all the emotions inside her.

Wrapped up in her own head, America hadn't realized that one of the pairs sparring in the courtyard were Stephen and The Ancient One, not until Stephen spoke.

"Damn, kid, I think he's beaten." he said, and she jumped, spinning around.

She about whacked him in the face with the staff, but he put his forearm up to block and the wood cracked against his flesh, but Stephen didn't even flinch. America envied his reflexes. When they were training together or just messing around, it was almost impossible to get one over on him.

"Sorry!" she gasped, lowering the staff.

"Nice hit." Stephen said, lowering his arm and rubbing it with the opposite hand.

"What's wrong? You're clearly upset." he added, looking her over.

"I don't... I don't really want to talk about it." America said, because she did... But she didn't.

She felt childish for being so upset that Luxmi had used her as an example for the class, but she hadn't been the only one struggling and it was embarrassing.

"You just-" Stephen began, but The Ancient One interrupted.

"You don't have to if you do not wish to. You can come train with us, if you like. A dummy can only do so much." she said and America knew sometimes it was hard for The Ancient One to convince anyway to train with her.

She had once been the Sorcerer Supreme and was incredibly powerful, but after being attacked by Kaecilius and sustaining injuries in a fall, she could only use her body and even her brain because of the dimensional energy she channeled into both. Despite the fact this allowed her to function almost completely, aside from the days when she needed the support of a cane or seemed a little more tired than usual, everyone seemed cautious. Because of her power and because of her lingering injuries, repaired with dimensional energy or not.

"Are you sure?" America asked, not because she had the same reservations but because The Ancient One and Stephen were much more skilled than her.

"I'm sure. Come join us, and we'll even teach you a few tricks." The Ancient One said and America walked over.

The Ancient One had a fan made of magic, Stephen no weapon at all, and America a staff, and America took up a sparring position. She wasn't expecting The Ancient One to move first, and the dimensional energy really did hold her body together flawlessly, because she was fast. She had hundreds of years of experience under her belt and compared to her, even Stephen and Wong seemed a little sloppy, a little slow.

America was embarrassed that she actually yelped when The Ancient One came for her and she only managed to block the fan swinging toward her on instinct, the blow jarring her entire body. Stephen came from the side, aiming for The Ancient One, and America guessed it was a free-for-all, The Ancient One turning to deflect his glowing cat's cradle of magic.

America was nowhere near as good as they were, but she was already working out a strategy. If she had a chance at winning- and she might be able to get one over on Stephen since he had a soft spot for her- she had to let Stephen take down The Ancient One if he could. So she joined him in attacking her and even the two of them were hard-pressed to do something, America using spells when her staff got ripped from her hand. She could fight and she could protect herself, as she had proven when she had tried to help with those beings not too long ago, but her shields...

Spells, weapons, and shields whipped through their small battle and America ad no choice but to throw up a shield, holding her breath, concentrating- But it was no good. It broke just as she expected it to and The Ancient One knocked her to the ground, her glowing fan held over it, making it clear that America was defeated.

America stayed down on the stone, feeling like she wanted to scream, because Luxmi was right and she was terrible at this. Stephen lunged at The Ancient One, but she blocked him almost casually, and looked down at America.

She had a knowing look in her eyes that America did not care for, because it often felt like The Ancient One could peer straight into her soul or her head and know exactly what she was thinking or what was bothering her.

"Did your class not go well?" she asked, though she did pause to sweep Stephen's legs out from beneath him.

He landed hard on his back, letting out a high-pitched squeaking sound.

"It went..." America said and huffed out a breath.

Her cheeks warmed again and The Ancient One dropped her weapons.

"Are you still having trouble with your shields?" she asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't expect to do them flawlessly this lesson, but I thought I might do better, but I wasn't. Maybe I was just getting frustrated, and then Master Luxmi called me to the front." America admitted, knowing that Stephen, at least, knew her schedule and could track down the masters who had taught it to find out what had happened if he wanted.

She wanted to avoid that, avoid him going a bit overboard with 'dad mode', as Kaecilius had started to call it.

"What?" Stephen grunted as he sat up and even The Ancient One was frowning.

"That is not how things are typically done. I have never had a master do such a thing." she said, disapproval in her voice.

"I wasn't doing well, but it was just... Humiliating. I've never had anyone do that before. It felt like I was on display." America said, picking at her shoelace.

"Luxmi should not have done that. Speaking to you about your struggles after class is what she should have done rightly." The Ancient One said and Stephen was nodding his agreement.

"Even when I was struggling, you didn't do that to me. You waited until everyone else was done. Wong, Hamir, Mordo, Daniel, Tina... They never called me out like that either. Hell, you even called me out on astral projecting in relative privacy." he said, and his hands clenched like they did when he was angry.

"Plus, you're a kid, America. A damn kid. She shouldn't have shamed a kid in front of everyone, especially when most everyone else is an adult."

"We do not have many children America's age here, it is true, but she should not have been used as an example." The Ancient One agreed.

"Please, don't go and talk to her about it. It's okay. I just... It didn't feel great." America said quickly to Stephen.

"I'm going to talk to Wong about it, at least, because that's not the kind of behavior we have here. She'll probably do it to someone else. I had teachers like that in school, even in med school. I was never on the receiving end of it, but I have never wanted to punch someone so badly." Stephen said, making a face.

"It would be best if you did not resort to physical violence with your fellow masters, Stephen." The Ancient One warned him and he glanced her.

"I never punched my teachers. I won't punch Luxmi." he promised.

"I really don't want to talk about it anymore." America said, moving on from her shoelaces to twisting one of her rings around her finger.

"Then we don't have to. The situation will be dealt with, and it will not happen again." Stephen said and reached out, ruffling her hair.

"Why don't we assist you with your shields? Stephen struggled very much early on with his magic. It is not uncommon." The Ancient One suggested, and America liked that idea.

Even if she didn't want to look at another shield again today, she did enjoy her lessons with Stephen and The Ancient One, and she knew they would show her what she needed.

The Ancient One helped her to her feet and Stephen got up as well, America standing to watch them, studying them as they took it slowly. It wouldn't be an instant fix, and it couldn't change what had happened. But right now, receiving help from two people she loved made her feel just a little bit better.

Chapter Text

Cursing softly in his native tongue, Kaecilius tightened the magical binds around his thigh, blood still oozing out, but at least the flow had slowed. That being said, his pants were still soaked with it and there was definitely blood in his boot as well.

He wasn't in danger of bleeding out right now or anything, but it was a messy and painful wound. He could treat it on his own, no need to bother the healers, but he needed to find the supplies he needed. He and Stephen had been coexisting peacefully as roommates and co-Sanctum Masters, but that being said, they each liked things certain ways. So things had gotten rearranged from where Kaecilius preferred to keep them and he was searching for the medical supplies, a mix of regular and magical.

He had his own personal stock in his bathroom, but that wasn't what he needed and he was looking in the kitchen, because aside from Stephen's rooms, he had no idea where things could have gone.

He finally found some of what he was looking for and brought it down, limping over the kitchen table and chairs. He sat in one and dragged the other over to support his leg, stretching it out with a hiss.

Maybe he was a fool. But he had learned, over the years, how to treat his own injuries and he didn't need to bother healers with something he could certainly do himself.

He opened the chest and dug out the rubbing alcohol, pouring it over the wound. It burned enough to make him curse, but inflicted by magic or not, it got the job done.

"What are you doing?" a voice said and he opened his eyes.

Stephen was standing in the doorway, wearing flannel pants and no shirt, the Cloak hovering by him. Of course it had told on Kaecilius. He had taken the Cloak with him, and it had seen what had happened.

"I am treating my injury. What does it look like I am doing?" Kaecilius asked, flushing the wound again.

Bloodied alcohol flowed onto the floor.

"Being an idiot, if you want to know." Stephen answered and Kaecilius flashed him a look.

"I am perfectly capable of treating myself, Mister Doctor. My life is not in danger." he said and Stephen walked over.

"You left a blood trail from your portal, by the way, and the Cloak is very concerned for you. You could at least let me look." he said and Kaecilius slapped a hand over the wound.

It was long; not all of it was covered.

"You are not a medical doctor anymore, even if you keep the title."

"I still have more medical experience than you do. And you don't even have everything you need." Stephen said, grabbing his wrist and lifting it.

"Perhaps if you did not move everything around to suit your preferences, I would be able to find it." Kaecilius said pointedly.

"It didn't make sense to keep it where you had it- Never mind. Can I at least assist you? You're not the first person I've fixed up in here, you know." Stephen said as he examined the wound.

"All right. You may assist." Kaecilius allowed, adding, "Who else have you fixed in here?"

"Myself, for one. Mordo, once." Stephen answered and the last one surprised him.

"Mordo? Why?" Kaecilius asked as Stephen glanced through the first aid kit.

"Because he came asking for help. It's... Complicated. You're actually the first person I've told about that." Stephen replied and it was clear he didn't want to talk about it.

Kaecilius was fine with that. Mordo had left pain and chaos in his wake, attacking and even eliminating those he deemed breaking the natural law or unworthy of being a sorcerer because there were too many of them. And he especially hated Stephen Strange, probably even more than he had after what had happened with Dormammu, because he had brought about a future that had led to time travel and messing with timelines. Of all the people to survive the Snap, Kaecilius thought that Mordo had been the most problematic.

He had gone up against him over the years and inflicted injuries on him; the last time he had seen Mordo, he had had a limp from one of their previous encounters. And yet he was as slick as oil, always escaping them, determined the purge the world of rogue sorcerers and the like, anyway he deemed unworthy of magic or who had broken natural law too many times.

It was probably a miracle he had never come to Kamar-Taj, and Kaecilius, alongside Stephen, was a object of his ire. He didn't think Stephen was in the right to have saved him, and therefore Kaecilius was also to blame for that, in addition to his other crimes.

Stephen moved to the cabinets and revealed the chests Kaecilius had been looking for, not at all where he thought they should be.

"Which one do you want? Both?" Stephen asked, keeping his word to assist.

"Grab the little one." Kaecilius said; that one was filled with specialty potions and such.

He needed that right now.

Stephen brought over the dark, worn chest and set it on the table, making Kaecilius sigh as he lifted his leg and took a seat in it, keeping Kaecilius's leg balanced on his own.

"What got you?" Stephen asked as he reached forward, tearing open Kaecilius's pants further to expose the wound more easily.

"A demon of some sort. From a different plane, of course. That is why I can not so simply heal this. Not a bad wound, but tricky to heal." Kaecilius replied, opening the clasps on the chest

"Why not go to the healers?"

"Why waste their time when I know how to treat it myself?" Kaecilius asked, arching a brow.

"If I could tell you how many times I heard that during my residency... That's how people end up in the ER, you know." Stephen said, shaking his head.

"Well, then you may take me to Kamar-Taj's if you deem it necessary after this." Kaecilius said, sorting through the bottles.

Of course the demon came with a sort of magic that made magical healing difficult and he knew from existence while not a bad wound, any attempt to stitch it would fail, as the thread would just dissolve. The bleeding wouldn't stop either and most people would rush to the healers, but Kaecilius had grown adept at fixing things himself.

Born from the time shortly after his return, when he hadn't wanted to interact with many people, and he was quite certain they hadn't wanted to see him either.

He found what he was looking for, a vile-looking concoction that was such a nasty, dark shade of purple it looked black, and he pulled the stopper out, Stephen wrinkling his nose at the sulfuric scent.

"Actually, I suppose it is good you are here. Do not allow me to get up." Kaecilius said and Stephen braced his leg.

He felt the Cloak settle around him, prepared to keep him in his chair. Taking a deep breath, Kaecilius steeled himself and dribbled a trail of the potion down the length of the wound, being careful that it only went into the wound and not on his undamaged skin. As soon as it made contact, it felt like he had poured liquid fire into his wound and the pain exploded the more he poured in, and Kaecilius had been underestimating how it would feel on such a long wound.

His entire body seized from the pain and the bottle slipped from his hand, the Cloak catching it before it could smash on the floor. It held him so he didn't fall from the chair and Stephen held his leg in an iron grip, preventing him from jerking it. Kaecilius wasn't proud of it, but he screamed at the pain, and by the time the last of the fire had ebbed he was breathing hard, sweat beading his brow.

"Holy crap. I think you should have gone to the healers." Stephen said, staring at him.

Kaecilius gave him a wane smile.

"It seems being stubborn is something we both have in common, Mister Doctor." he said raggedly and breathed in deeply a few times.

Stephen returned the smile, taking a dishtowel from the table and throwing it down into the mess of blood, alcohol, and potion on the floor, still having a tight grip on Kaecilius's ankle.

"I can heal it now, after I clean it again." Kaecilius said, but his hands were shaking as the adrenaline wore off and the pain punched him.

Stephen took up a cloth, same as he did, and soaked it potion, helping him clean everything out again. Kaecilius did not protest and they cleaned it out together, the whole thing still bleeding, albeit sluggishly now, and a very angry red from the treatment.

Together they wove healing spells and while it was not entirely fixed, by the time they were done all that was left was a partially healed wound, one that would still cause him to limp for a time and hurt, but he wasn't likely to pull it open and cause bleeding.

Kaecilius felt more drained from the treatment than he had from the fight that had earned him the injury, among others, and Stephen wrapped it up with gauze to prevent anything from on it, a somewhat awkward feat since Kaecilius still had his pants on.

When it was done, he swung his leg down stiffly to the floor and bent to mop up the mess, nearly cracking his head on Stephen's as the other man made to do the same. Stephen sat back and got up, cleaning up the trail of blood with a simple spell.

Kaecilius packed away the medical supplies and put it away, stubbornly in the spot he thought they should go, and he glanced at the clock. It was almost morning in Kamar-Taj, night blanketing New York, and their schedules were completely odd, since they participated in life in Kamar-Taj but spent long stretches of time in New York and sometimes adapted to that time. He could tell that Stephen had been sleeping and while he had not gotten up all that long ago, Kaecilius was exhausted.

He headed to get some extra sleep, even if it would conflict with either schedule, and Stephen's voice followed him.

"Want me to bring you some tea?" he asked.

"That would be lovely. Thank you." Kaecilius said, grateful.

He continued toward the stairs, still limping, but he would heal. A little pain wasn't something anyone who came to Kamar-Taj was a stranger to, after all.

Chapter Text

Having the Avengers- or whatever the remnants were calling themselves now- on their side in battle was helpful sometimes, especially if the threat wasn't entirely magical or interdimensional.

Sometimes Stephen wondered why Earth. Other times he knew very well why Earth. It was unique and powerful, despite all its flaws and was home to many different forces to be reckoned with. He was not quite sure why these things were here, but they had refused to go peacefully, so masters and superheroes has teamed up for the day, fighting through a thick forest.

Not having a large threat in a populated area was a blessing. It meant they could all let loose without having to worry about civilians and bystanders that were bystanding instead of sheltering or fleeing. Stephen swore if he saw one more idiot with their phone up, he was sending them to another dimension.

Right now, however, he, Tony, and Pepper were covering things in the air. By Avengers, that meant just Tony and Pepper today, but that was fine. Stephen had decided to act upon some of those futures he had seen and get to know the pair, to see if they would want to be friends he could rely upon, and they had. He did not regret that, even if it had taken him some time to make the decision.

Tony was more 'Iron Man' than ever, what with his robotic arm and eye, made with the best technology he could whip up in his workshop. It was also combined with a little bit of magic, courtesy of Stephen, who had helped when things had been difficult for the engineer with a few things.

These particular 'aliens', as Tony had branded them, were particularly nasty, more animalistic than humanoid, and they were violent, having some sort of power of their own. No one knew what they were, but here they were, and they had clearly known what one of the languages the Masters of the Mystic Arts was, but they had refused to answer questions or really talk aside from declarations that they were claiming new territory.

So they had to go, and a little non-magical back-up was good, and Stephen blasted a creature from the air with a spell, and they didn't fly. No, they floated through some power, moving like Tony or Pepper without the jets, and they were nasty. Sharp teeth, talons, tentacles, like they hadn't been able to decide what they had wanted so they had just gone with everything.

Stephen didn't like to cause harm. To kill. But he had amended that years ago. He would do both, when necessary, and right now, it was necessary. He might need a drink later, truth be told, but that thought would have to wait.

He snapped out a whip and hurled a mandala, sending out copies of himself, some going to join Pepper, some staying with him.

"Wizard, that's not great with my sensors. I know you liked that when we faced the grape, but no one else was fighting with you. FRIDAY is working on it, but if you could tone down the clones, that would be great." Tony informed him, his voice muffled by his suit, despite the earpiece he had given Stephen at the beginning of the battle.

"Are you telling me FRIDAY can't tell the difference between my spell and my actual being?" he asked, somewhat curious.

"She's detecting the movement, and it takes a second to tell the difference before the lock. A second makes all the difference." Tony answered and Stephen sighed.

He wasn't even shaped like their enemies, for Vishanti's sake. But he reigned in his doubles, keeping them close to himself, and he checked in on the masters on the ground with mind speak.

Kaecilius, Wong, Li, Katara, and more were scattered around down there, and so was The Ancient One. That had taken some getting used to after his return. In those five years, she had successfully channeled dimensional energy through her body and had begun to assist in the field with.

Even with all that power, though, Tony and Pepper were welcome air support, and it was all going rather well, in Stephen's opinion. They were wounding the beings, sometimes killing, and largely containing them, planning to send them back to where they had come from. He knew Tony didn't fully support that, worried that they would come back, but the Masters of the Mystic Arts weren't in the habit of killing everything that crossed their paths. Beings wandered. Sometimes they didn't mean to come. Sometimes they were just lost, or needed to be shown that Earth had protection. It wasn't so black and white.

It was all going well... Until Stephen got shot.

He had banished his doubles for the time being and was merely flying forward, aiming with a long eldritch blade at one of the beings arrowing toward Tony, and then it felt like someone had punched him, followed by a burning pain that erupted through his abdomen.

Though he had never been shot before, Stephen knew immediately that was what had happened.

So that's what it feels like. he thought a split second after it happened.

He also knew what had happened because of Tony.

"SHIT! FRIDAY, I hit the wizard! Man down!" Tony shouted and Stephen was falling.

The force of the impact had knocked them both and stunned them, and maybe the Cloak had been hit as well. Either way, they were falling, and before the Cloak could righten them, they crashed through the top canopy of some trees, leaves and branches tearing at them.

Then the Cloak managed to sort things out and they hit the ground together with a much better impact than most could have hoped for, and Stephen's breath was knocked from his body for a second time.

He lay there, still, on the ground and groaned, the pain sharper now, like that poker in him had turned white-hot and was being twisted. In the time it took him to get his breath back, Tony had caught up and was landing beside him, the Cloak peeling off him, and Tony turned him onto his back as his mask melted away.

"You all right? You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"You fucking shot me. I am not okay." Stephen ground up, smacking at the armored hands.

"Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Vishanti, I need to... I need to assess the injury." he added, worried about what Tony had just ground into the wound by flipping him into the dirt like that.

He sat up gingerly, feeling the movement force blood from his body, and he discovered a growing red stain on the front of his robes.

"Oh, crap." he said.

Through and through. Clean, at least, no bullet in him (had there been a bullet? If it had been one of those lasers or whatever, the wound would have been cauterized). But what had it torn through?

"Tony, find the entrance wound. Dismantle your glove and touch it for me." Stephen ordered before Tony could say anything.

Tony obeyed, crawling behind him, and Stephen pressed against the exit wound, blood gushing against his fingers. Sickening fingers of pain spiked into his stomach as Tony pressed on the wound and Stephen did his best to calculate the entry and exit and what it must have torn through. He was bleeding internally, but not badly, and somehow the bullet had missed everything critical, or had hit something but not badly. He didn't believe in miracles, but this felt close to one, especially since it was three inches into his right side and had traveled at a slight angle thanks to his positioning.

But it wasn't all good. He was bleeding, quite badly. He couldn't get a good look at the injury, which meant a spell would be almost impossible, and what with the debris that must have entered the wound, a spell wasn't advisable.

"What can I do? FRIDAY can lower power to levels where I can cauterize this, no problem-"

"No." Stephen said firmly, quickly.

"Keep your hand there. Keep pressure there. No, wait. How much dirt is there? Take a look and tell me. Oh, God. Oh, crap." Stephen said, swearing as Tony removed his hand.

"It's kind of messy." Tony admitted.

"Fuck."

"I have suture spray. I can close it."

"Not with dirt in it you're not. I'm not getting sepsis because you use your spaceship glue on me." Stephen snapped, feeling around for his slingring. He needed to get back to Kamar-Taj. As much as he hated it, he had to go and get healed, or he wouldn't be any use to anyone.

"My nanites can get it out. Just hold still and let me give 'em the order." Tony said and Stephen took a deep breath.

That hurt and there was blood in his mouth, and he didn't know if that was from the crash landing or what.

"Do you trust me, Strange?"

"...I trust you." Stephen said, because he did.

And it wasn't fair to have asked Tony to put so much faith in him and not return the favor. He knew the amount of research and time that went into each one of Tony's inventions; whatever he wanted to do, it was safe, and if it was what Stephen was thinking of, it was the same thing that had saved Tony's life on Titan. It would suit him fine here on Earth.

He heard the sound of something spraying and something hit his breath, and nano technology- to his understanding, millions of tiny robots- working into a wound and cleaning out debris hurt. Stephen nearly vomited from the pain and kept his hands pressed to his front, stemming the bleeding the best he could, beginning to feel rather lightheaded.

"Hurry up, Tony, before I pass out." he ground out, swallowing down the bile.

"Working on it, Doc." Tony said and reached around him, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Stephen squeezed it back and it seemed to take agonizing minutes for the nanites to clear the wound, but he didn't think it was actually that long. Still, he was grateful for the hand to hold, even with pain being an old friend, and he heard FRIDAY confirm that as much dirt as possible had been cleared from the wound.

"Do it now." Stephen said and Tony released him.

He sprayed the suture spray first on the entrance wound, then the exit, and Stephen didn't like that feeling either, it feeling so different from any kind of normal medicine or magic he had ever encountered.

But it got the job done and the bleeding stopped, and while there was pain and the wound was certainly not healed, he could still fight. They couldn't afford to be a man down in this battle, and already these beings seemed to be able to home in on portals and try to use them. So not having to cast one felt safer, and he and Tony quickly rejoined the battle.

It took a little while longer, but they won, because if there was anything the Masters of the Mystic Arts and the Avengers had in common, it was that fact they refused to lose. The masters gathered up the corpses and burned them to ashes, just to be safe, and Wong began to check on everyone.

There were a few wounds scattered among them, but no so bad as Stephen, and Wong assessed everyone, but Tony was already offering to haul Stephen off to some hospital or superhero facility or something like that.

Stephen waved him off; Kamar-Taj would work just fine from him. He had come to trust the healers over the years, and it wasn't the first time a master had been shot. He allowed Tony to come, though, and Tony was standing off to the side as the healers got to work.

He watched the magic intently and Stephen knew he was probably wondering what sort of tech he could make to mimic it, his bionic eye, which looked pretty close to a real one but strange enough to definitely not be mistaken for a real one, zooming in weirdly. It was silent, but Stephen could see it and he knew how the eye worked in extreme detail anyway.

When it was all done, Stephen had a wound that was much better than it had been and would heal the rest of the way on its own, and Tony lingered after everyone had left.

"I am really sorry, Doc. If the healers here charge, I'll cover the bills, no problem-" Tony said and Stephen raised a hand.

"I'll be fine, and Kamar-Taj has free medical care for everyone. It was an accident. I imagine it isn't the first time an Avenger has hit the other; the masters do it more than you would like to think in the thick of battle." he said and the look on Tony's face told him all that he needed to know.

He would have to ask about that some time and Tony yelped when the Cloak suddenly smacked him across the face, hard enough to leave a mark.

"What did I do to you?" he demanded, glowering at the Cloak.

"You shot me. The Cloak is very protective, if you hadn't noticed."

"You seriously are a loyal piece of outer wear. I'm going to figure you out one day." Tony said, regarding the Cloak.

The Cloak did nothing, not seeming impressed, and Stephen wanted to laugh, but that hurt the wound, even if it was healed a good deal.

"I'm glad you're okay. Do you mind if I go, 'cause, it's getting kind of late back on the east coast..."

"I don't recall inviting you in the first place, but no, I don't mind. Say hello to Morgan for me." Stephen said and sat up, sliding on his slingring.

He created a portal and the house by the lake appeared on the other side, Pepper and Morgan already waiting on the porch.

"And Tony?" Stephen said as he made to step through.

"Yeah?"

"Shoot me again, and I'm finding a spell especially for you in the library." Stephen said and Tony laughed.

He waved and Pepper and Morgan must have seen Stephen, because they waved to him too, and Stephen raised a hand in return. Then he closed the portal and lay back down with a heavy groan, the Cloak settling on top of him like a blanket, its familiar warm weight a welcome comfort.

He didn't want to ever get shot again.

Chapter Text

After channeling power from Dormammu and the Dark Dimension for so many years, The Ancient One knew without any aid from marks or the Mirror Dimension when someone was using that power for themselves.

It was to be expected, even if they had never really been able to confirm it.

Mordo had taken pages with the ritual to contact Dormammu all those years ago, and he had to be strong powerful enough to face the rest of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, to steal magic and do all that he had done. So when he came, The Ancient One knew.

And now here they were, she and Kaecilius, captured by Mordo, at his mercy. It had been a quick and clever attack, separating them and taking them separately, and The Ancient One knew that whatever was coming, it was not going to be fast. She knew Mordo did not take kindly to those who broke natural law. Those who had done as she had. And she knew what he had done to Johnathan Pangborn.

She glanced to the side again. Kaecilius was unconscious, sprawled limply on his side nearby, bound with the same magical binds as she was, and blood seeped from his head. What had Mordo hit him with? The Staff, she thought, the same as her, the pain of its blow pure agony.

She had always suspected she might fail Mordo. She knew he would not have taken her perceived betrayal well, and she knew part of him had wanted him her to die, one reason he had not tried to help Stephen catch her.

Mordo came back from wherever he had gone; likely securing wards, and The Ancient One had the strong suspicion they were at his family estate, because where else would he base himself from after abandoning the order?

"Hello, Mordo." she said as he entered, keeping her straight position on her knees, even if it was sending twinges up her damaged spine.

Dimensional energy flowing through her body or not, some things were never going to be the same.

Mordo didn't respond, standing in front of her, clenching his fists, and she wondered if he didn't know what to do. If he regretted not killing them instantly. She wondered what had kept him away all these years. Had it been lack of opportunity? Or had he not felt himself strong enough.

"Your argument is with me, Mordo. You have no reason to bring Kaecilius into this." The Ancient One said, trying to break the bonds on her.

Not just a spell for her; no, there was a relic of some kind, and she might be able to break free, but it would take time. She cared more for Kaecilius's well being in this situation than herself, and with Kaecilius unconscious and possibly suffering a head or even brain injury, she needed to keep Mordo talking and focused. She feared she might be Kaecilius's only chance to get out of here. Mordo had to be fairly confident that the order could not find them or interfere if they were still alive.

"It is with him, Ancient One. He performed the rituals. He killed one of our own. Destroyed a Sanctum, tried to kill more. He tried to kill you, if you recall." Mordo said, his voice cold.

"And that was my decision. That was the future I saw, and, unfortunately in ways, the future we needed. I regret what had to happen. But I would not and can not change it." The Ancient One said, and the familiar pain came with the reminder.

How many terrible things had she allowed to happen because it was the best future, not just to the world but specifically to the individual? Kaecilius was proof of that, and had she altered the future, had she picked a different one, he would not be a target of Mordo's wrath.

"Is that why you broke the natural law? Why you stole power from the Dark Dimension? From Dormammu?" Mordo asked, looking down at her.

His face was no longer kind, as she had known it. He was older, worn, hardened. He was scarred and he limped, and she knew in the Mirror Dimension, his forehead would bear a red sigil, different than her own, different than the one scarred Kaecilius even now, but there all the same.

"Yes. It was the best future I could bring about." The Ancient One said, feeling her magic surge a little, but not enough to get her free.

"And I am not the only one, am I? Nor is Kaecilius. You have broken the very laws you wish to protect, Mordo." she added and Mordo went rigid.

"I am not like you. I am not breaking the natural law." he said, his voice low.

"But you are taking power from Dormammu. I can sense it, Mordo. After so many years of using it myself, I know." The Ancient One said and examined him.

He was one of her biggest regrets. At least recent ones. Kaecilius was another. Now, despite her choices, despite what they had brought them to, Kaecilius had a second chance, had a future and a good one at that. Mordo, on the other hand, was staring her failure in the face, and she feared it might be too late for him. Not everyone was capable of redemption. Not everyone wanted it.

"I am doing what is necessary. Once balance is restored, I will stop. Are rules not meant to be broken for the greater good? Is that not what you yourself did?" Mordo challenged, his eyes boring into her.

Only her hands were bound and, with a bit of difficulty from her protesting body, The Ancient One forced herself to stand. Her knees pulsed with pain from being pressed into the stone for so long, but she stood tall despite it all.

She was taller than Mordo, if only by an inch, but The Ancient One knew she could stand in such a way that made her seem taller and more imposing, a good way to impress students and masters and assert her authority. She would not allow Mordo to think she was vulnerable or weak, or submitting to him.

"I know it does not matter if I apologize to you, Mordo, and I will not, because I can not. I made many decisions because they were the best choice for the future. I hated them. Not that I expect you to believe me. But I am sorry for turning you into this." The Ancient One said and she was being honest, but she was also pressing him.

Mordo was logical, but he also had a temper, and she knew, after all these years of wanting to 'stop' her and Kaecilius, that temper in him, the darkness he had unwittingly cultivated, would rise to the surface. Let him unleash it. Let him focus on her. Kaecilius was likely to regain consciousness soon- she hoped- and then... And then she hoped things would turn out well.

"You turned me into nothing. I have left your teachings behind." he said, voice pulsing with anger.

"My actions caused your anger, your decision to leave us, to do as you have been doing all these years. I believe I have shaped you in more ways than you care to acknowledge." The Ancient One said, and she did not try to move even though she saw the blow coming.

The back of his hand cracked against her mouth and the force knocked her over, blood in her mouth, on her lips, the floor jarring her whole body as she landed. But she took it silently and looked up at Mordo, spitting out the blood, seeing the fury boiling in his eyes.

They regarded each other and The Ancient One took a breath.

"If I could have prevented this from being your future, Mordo, I would have. But I stopped having a hand in the future long ago." she said and she did regret this.

But Mordo had always been difficult and stubborn. A river that could not be beaten into submission. A river that could not, in the end, be safely navigated either. She had the knowledge that more often than not, Mordo's future had always been destined for something like that.

"You betrayed us. Kaecilius was right about you, oddly enough. And yet the fools in Kamar-Taj still believe in you. They still welcome you among them. Do they know the truth of you?" Mordo demanded.

"No." The Ancient One said honestly.

"What would happen, do you think, if I told them? If I revealed the secret Stephen had kept for you?"

"Some would hate me, I imagine. Some would not care. Others would accept it." The Ancient One answered with a light shrug.

She wanted to keep him focused on her, even as she tried to get free. Mordo laughed, a bitter sound, and shook his head.

"You should have died that day. Strange never should have saved you. You need to pay for your crimes, and yet here you are." he said, his fury shaking his voice.

"If you seek to punish me, Mordo, I ask you to get on with it. We both know there is no need for this trivial talk." The Ancient One said and he unholstered the Staff of Living Tribunal.

She readied herself for its pain, for the rightful punishment it had been enchanted to give, and she knew the pain would be agony. She also knew she would endure it, for however long she needed to, and she would bear it, because she would get Kaecilius out of here. Mordo was right and she did deserve punishment. Kaecilius, however, did not deserve to pay for the future she had brought about, not when he already had.

But it was not her Mordo turned to.

Instead, he knelt beside Kaecilius and used a spell to bring him around, waiting for him to be coherent enough to understand his words before bringing the Staff down. It cracked sharply against his body and The Ancient One was horrified as Kaecilius cried out, contorting with pain, and Mordo glanced at him.

"The Staff does not lie. It delivers impartial justice." he said to her and brought it down again.

"Mordo." The Ancient One said, making to rise, but a spell forced her down on her knees, keeping her there.

The Staff cracked again. And again and again and again. And though he was strong, though he was one of the strongest masters she had ever trained, it was not long before Kaecilius was screaming, not long before Mordo was adding something extra with a spell, and Kaecilius began to bleed more.

"Mordo, stop." The Ancient One said, still fighting, but she still couldn't manage it.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Staff, whip, it changed back and forth and Mordo was lost in it, she saw, lost in the euphoria of having what he had been trying to achieve for years in front of him. Delivering years of pent-up fury and betrayal, of disgust and righteousness. He also knew it would hurt her more to see one of her students harmed than any wound or punishment he might inflict on her.

"Mordo! Mordo, stop!" she said, voice rising, as Kaecilius quieted, as he stopped moving.

The Staff could not kill, but he had passed out from the pain.

"What kind of man who has not become what he hates beats a bound man?" The Ancient One challenged and Mordo whirled.

The Staff snapped out like a whip and struck her across the face, tearing through her skin, and blood rolled down her face, The Ancient One breathing heavily through the pain. It was agony. She had known the Staff would punish her, and she was all right with that. She did deserve it.

Mordo glowered down at her. "You both deserve punishment. As I hurt him, I hurt you."

"There is no honor or justice in beating someone who can not fight back." The Ancient One said as Kaecilius groaned, beginning to come around already.

"No? What of when he killed a bound man? Cut his head clean from his body? What of the enemies we have held down and slain because we did?" Mordo asked, his voice rough and low.

"Mordo, I-"

"Why? Why did you do it? Teach us never to do those yet do themselves? Was there no other future we could have come to? No other person who could have brought us to here?" Mordo interrupted and The Ancient One closed her eyes.

"I can not explain it all to you. The simplest answer is no. Not for this future. Not for the point we had to come to. I hated every moment of it, Mordo. But it had to be done. I searched a long time for an alternative, but there was none. Not in this universe. I tried to protect each of you. From the worst futures. From yourselves." she said honestly.

"Do not give me the speech you gave Kaecilius. Pretty words and excuses." Mordo hissed at her, his fist tightening on the Staff.

"I will only give you the truth. And the truth is, yes, there were alternatives, but none of them were the future we needed. Every Sorcerer Supreme, before me and after me, with the Eye of Agamotto or not, will have to shape the future as I did, and did it before me. That is part of the burden of Sorcerer Supreme. Something you could never understand, Mordo." The Ancient One said and this did not satisfy him.

She could see, behind his back, that Kaecilius was sitting up slowly, gingerly, trying to work his way to his feet. She did not move her eyes, but she could see his movement, and she did not want to draw Mordo's attention to him.

"There are too many sorcerers. Too many breaking natural law. I am restoring order to the world. Stopping those who are unneeded, and punishing those who need to be punished. You and Kaecilius must pay for your crimes. You both brought us to this." Mordo said and Kaecilius lunged.

He had brought his hands in front of himself and he looped his bound hands around Mordo's neck, hauling him away, stumbling unsteadily, and the pair of them began to grapple. The Ancient One, still frozen by the spell, could not get up and assist. As injured as he was, Kaecilius did not last long. Mordo slammed him into the wall, stunning him, and dropped him, raising the Staff.

The torture continued, and The Ancient One could do nothing to stop it. She was struggling against the layers of spells and the relic, and as she did, Kaecilius suffered. He screamed and bled, at the mercy of the Staff, Mordo's spells, and his fists and feet. But things truly took a turn when Mordo pulled out a knife, hissing something to Kaecilius she could not hear, and began to carve open the scar the marking from Dormammu had left. Deft flicks of the knife and the mark was red again, weeping red. He began to move onto the tear-like streaks down Kaecilius's face, surely to move up to the rest of the scarred area. She could not take it.

"Mordo, stop! STOP!" The Ancient One shouted, her heart feeling like it was tearing in her chest.

She had seen too many students injured, tortured, killed. She could not see another one.

Mordo did stop. He had Kaecilius's hard in his fist, but he released it, dropping him to the floor and turning to her. As he stood over her, he was so far from the young man who had come to her all those years ago, asking to learn, hoping for a place to belong, that it hurt her. That young man was gone, she realized. There was fury and a desire for revenge deep in him, a firm belief in what he was doing. The Karl Mordo she had known and trained was long gone, crumpled and hardened into a different shape by these past few years.

"What do you want?" he asked, his hand coming down, grasping her chin.

She felt sick. She knew what he wanted. He wanted to demean her, to show her she had no power. She could not help Kaecilius, not truly. She could not break through all these binds on her. Mordo wanted to destroy her bit by bit, like she had his faith in the Masters of the Mystic Arts, in her, in everything she had taught him. An eye for an eye, as well as he could deal it.

"N-No..." Kaecilius wheezed, struggling to sit up, coughing, the Staff having peeled his skin open.

Blood cascaded down his face, his clothing torn. One eye was swelling shut. She was certain at least one bone was broken. He spat out blood, swaying. There was fury in his eyes, though, deep and enough to match Mordo's.

"Ancient One, I will be fine." he rasped.

"Enough, Kaecilius." she said.

She had to have faith that the others would find them. That they could arrive in time to save Kaecilius. She had lived so many stolen lifetimes, so much borrowed time. They would all die. But she should have died long ago. She knew Mordo would torture her. He would rip the dimensional energy from her body, and he would give her the punishment he believed she deserved as her body crumpled and her mind betrayed her. It did scare her. But she was prepared for it.

"I want you to leave Kaecilius alone, Mordo." The Ancient One said and swallowed.

No, it wouldn't do like that, would it? He was like the master he served now. Far more than Kaecilius ever had been.

"Please." she whispered and she was surprised to realize there were tears gathering in her eyes.

Not because she was afraid. Not because she had to beg. Because she could not help Kaecilius as he needed it, because Mordo was no longer the man she had known, no longer the man she had desperately wished he would stay.

She was a proud woman, but she would do this. Maybe she could finally do right by Kaecilius. At the very least she could buy him time.

"Please, spare him, Mordo. Leave him. I am the one you wish to punish. There are other ways to do it. Do them. Please. Leave Kaecilius alone." she begged and she looked up at him, having an odd sense.

Like Stephen, like Kaecilius, Mordo had begged to be taught, to be given a place. Was that what part of this was? Because he had begged her? She had never asked him to, never wanted anyone to, but people did things when they were afraid. And now, she was afraid, too. Now their places were reversed.

Stephen had told her of the Mordo he had met in another universe, and she was afraid they were both more similar than any of them would like them to be. So lost in his path for righteousness- his own definition of it- that he became cruel and unforgiving, and didn't even realize it.

"Please." The Ancient One whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

She was so afraid now. So afraid her begging would do nothing, and Kaecilius would die before she could get free or help could arrive. That she would see another student die and be unable to do a thing about it. Mordo held everything in his hands now, and he knew it. His hand cupped her chin, and it was oddly tender, for a moment.

"Please." she repeated and then he let her go.

Then the Staff cracked down and despite the agony that coursed through her body, despite knowing her body and mind would fall apart on her again, The Ancient One felt satisfaction. She was buying time. Hopefully, help would not come too late for one of them.

Chapter Text

He had been waiting for years for this moment. And perhaps it was not quite as he had imagined it, perhaps he had surprised even himself, but Karl didn't care.

Finally, finally both The Ancient One and Kaecilius would pay for what they had done. The Ancient One's loyalty to Kaecilius surprised him and angered him in equal measures. Of course she would still be loyal to him. Of course she would try to stop Karl from hurting her.

He knew, despite her powers, which were great even without drawing it from the Dark Dimension, even with her body and brain functioning properly only thanks to dimensional energy, that she could probably be a match for him. Kaecilius as well. He had taken particular care with The Ancient One, layers of spells and even a relic he had acquired over the years, just to be safe.

He should have merely killed them and gotten it done with. But that was too easy of a punishment, in Karl's mind. All the suffering both of them had caused... It needed to be paid back in kind. So he had taken the Staff, with the power to deliver impartial justice, to Kaecilius, and it had not failed him. He had added his own blows, because the man had dealt so many of his own.

He knew how much it would pain The Ancient One to watch one of her students be tortured in front of her, and it would harm her just as much as he harmed Kaecilius. He had no desire to listen to her words, to her excuses, lies, and justifications. But it surprised him, the pain and fear in her voice, the desperation. And while he had not planned it, making her beg... He had begged, like so many others, to be trained, to be taken into Kamar-Taj. He had begged and she had already known the future, and Karl could not deny that it felt good. But he tried his best to keep his own personal feelings out of this. It was punishment, justified, and his own feelings should not play so much into it.

Soon, Karl would rip the dimensional energy from The Ancient One as he had Pangborn, as he had others he had discovered, but not yet. He did not know what sort of state it would leave her in, and she needed to be fully aware of her punishment. He also had no way to stop her from channeling power from the Dark Dimension no more than she did him, and he did not think she would do as he did and stop using it once it had served its purpose. But ripping the dimensional energy from her would likely prevent her from doing it again, especially if she had it tainting that energy.

He lashed the whip form of the Staff down on her again and she did not utter a sound, free now of the spell that had bound her in place, but still with her arms and magic bound. Despite the power he had taken for himself, he did not want to risk her getting free.

Blood stained her scarred skin before long, the Staff tearing through her clothes, and she bore it silently. Kaecilius, however, did not. He was injured, badly so, but he still had the strength and energy to spit words at Karl.

"Stop it! This is not justice, it's torture, Mordo! Even I was not so cruel. What are you gaining from this?!" he snarled, coughing afterward.

He was injured and Mordo wondered if he had caused some internal damage, but it did not matter, in the end. Despite the reprieve, Kaecilius would get what was coming to him, one way or another.

He would not shut up, however. Despite the strain in his voice, he insisted on scolding Mordo and cursing at him, and then he began to chant.

He might actually be able to break through his binds; Mordo had had only one pair of cuffs, and had decided, despite Kaecilius's current position and power, The Ancient One remained the larger threat. Mordo recognized the spell he was chanting, and it was dark magic, not a way to get free at all, a mere try to do something to Mordo himself. He stopped, breathing hard, the Staff collapsing back into its usual form, and turned to the man, who was chanting, looking at him, knowing full well that Karl could hear him but not caring.

"Stop that." Karl snapped, though he knew Kaecilius would not.

Karl's hand connected with his cheek, but still he did not stop, and a quick spell placed a gag in the man's mouth, silencing him effectively. Fire burned in Kaecilius's eyes- or rather, eye, as one was swollen shut. Karl layered more binds on him, just to be safe, and then turned back to The Ancient One.

It was hard to quell the inferno of rage in him when he looked at her. His teacher, his mentor, who he had idolized... Who had betrayed them all, violated their trust and her own teachings. It was hard to find the words to describe what Karl was feeling, but each hit of the Staff felt as though they conveyed it, so no words were needed, not for him, not for The Ancient One or Kaecilius.

He took a moment to take in The Ancient One. Like Kaecilius, her skin had been torn by some of the harsher blows while the Staff had been a whip, bruised and welted from both that and when it had been a Staff. Only the quick rise and fall of her chest hinted at her pain and Karl had to admit that he was impressed. Of course, she was likely accustomed to pain, had had time to learn how to handle it over her many stolen years.

She was on the floor, but she was looking at him, waiting silently, not even trying to fight. And maybe it was torture, maybe they could not fight back, but in this moment, Karl did not care. He brought the Staff down once more, letting it deliver justice in the form of pain. The Ancient One, eventually, proved to be as human as the rest of them, and passed out from the pain. Karl brought her around with a spell when he noticed; beating Kaecilius in any state had been part of her punishment before, but even with Kaecilius being his enemy, part of that did not sit right with him.

He found that he wanted to berate her verbally, to yell at her about how he had trusted her, followed her as blindly as Kaecilius's Zealots had followed him, and how much her betrayal still hurt, how it felt beneath the heat of his anger, like wounds had been carved into him and had never fully heal. What angered him most was the hurt was still there, that somehow it sill hurt after all these years, despite everything.

He brought the Staff down again and again, and maybe he did get lost in it. Maybe he did allow his personal thoughts to consume him and take over. Maybe the punishment he was inflicting now was far more personal, far more revenge, than he wanted to admit.

The scent of blood stung Karl's nose, and he was so consumed by this, by all of it, that the passage of time mattered little to him. He did allow breaks. The blood from Kaecilius's wounds clotted, deep bruises formed on his skin and The Ancient One's. Karl found the energy in himself to pick the Staff back up and start again. He left Kaecilius bound and gagged, knowing that was punishment for him too, to be helpless and powerless, just as it had been for The Ancient One, in a different manner.

He was so consumed by all of it that he did not notice when his wards around this place fell.

He had put the Staff down by now, holstered it, and he propped The Ancient One against the wall, examining her. Her skin was a mess of wounds, bruises, welts, scars, and blood and it made something stir in Karl's brain, but he shoved it down.

She stared at him and she did not look angry, nor did she look like she wanted to kill him, like Kaecilius did. No, she merely looked sad.

"I am sorry, Mordo. I never wanted it to come to this. I had hoped the future would be kind to you. But I suppose I was never going to be able to protect all of you." she said, finding her voice and strength from somewhere, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth as she spoke.

Her apology made him grind his teeth. Her words meant nothing. She had already said she would not apologize for what she had done, and her words would change nothing, would do nothing in the face of what she had done. Hundreds of years of dark magic, lies, and betrayal, of breaking the natural law.

And hundreds more years of doing the same. What would keep her from living forever?

"Still you use dark magic and still you live. Was what you have already done not enough?" he asked her aloud.

"I... I no longer take that power. I no longer need to. And I never... Served the master you do." The Ancient One said, her voice a little more ragged now, as adrenaline wore off and pain began to set in again.

"Enough of your lies! For hundreds of years you have drawn power from the Dark Dimension, and you expect me to believe that you have suddenly stopped?" Karl shouted, his temper rising again.

"I have no need to do it. Take me... To the Mirror Dimension and see." The Ancient One said, spitting out the blood leaking from some injury into her mouth.

Karl grabbed her by the front of her robes and slammed her back into the wall, not hard enough to do damage, but he could not help himself. She was right, of course, that he could simply reveal her that way. But for some reason, the thought of her seeing a similar mark upon him angered him even more.

He attacked her harder than before, using the Staff with more force than was necessary, and never once she did she attempt to defend herself. And then Karl knelt in front of her, dark golden magic glowing on his hands, because he felt a rage at what she was doing, and he would take any iota of power the Dark Dimension had given to her given the chance.

He began to grasp the dimensional energy flowing through so much of her body, beginning to rip it from her, and he saw the genuine fear in her eyes, because she knew exactly how her body would fall apart, but it didn't matter, because she should have died the moment she hit the ground, she never should have left that hospital-

The door flew open, banging harshly off the wall, making him drop the spell on instinct. Karl whirled, Staff raised in defense, and he saw Stephen was standing in the doorway, the Cloak of Levitation rippling around him, mandalas prepared, his gaze taking in the situation in seconds.

"Mordo." he said and the look in his eyes... It was very similar to that of The Ancient One.

"You have no business here, Strange. If you try to interfere, I will be forced to take action. I will spare you this time, if you leave now." Karl said, tightening his grip on the Staff.

"I am not leaving, Mordo. I am not going to sit back and let you torture and kill them. Stand back and let me bind you, and this does not have to end with anyone else getting hurt. Look at what you're doing. Look at what you've become. Worse than any of us." Stephen said, his eyes dangerous.

"You shame me, Strange? The man who handed the Time Stone to Thanos, who is responsible for the deaths of billions? Who altered time without a care, just as she did? Who saved both these lives that shouldn't have been? Who has used dark magic? You have done all that and more, and you shame me?" Karl challenged, feeling his temper rising up again.

"You can't hurt me with those things. I've accepted them. I'm the monster. I'm responsible. I've never denied it." Stephen said, still not moving.

He knew if he moved, Karl could easily end The Ancient One or Kaecilius in the time it took him to cross the space.

"I am not alone here, Mordo. Wong, Daniel, and plenty of others are here. I'm the one standing here and giving you a chance. The others might not be so kind. I won't kill you. I won't hurt you. Just surrender." Stephen said, voice firm.

"Still clinging to your ridiculous oath? Do you still whine about saving your own life or others' when you take a life or so much as wound an enemy? As I told you all those years ago, you have no idea the things I've done. The things I have done without hesitation! This is the same as those! This is necessary!" Karl shouted, his voice booming through the room.

"You still see no ways other than the ones you choose, do you?" Stephen said and his voice was hard, rising.

"There is no other way! They have broken the natural law! Broken it, bent it, defiled it, and they have not paid for their crimes! You should have let her die in that fall! Left him to rot in the Dark Dimension!" Karl roared at him and he snapped the Staff out, aiming to wrap it around Stephen's next.

If he had to take them all down at once, he would. But he never got the chance.

Stephen's eyes widened, but Karl had no time to determine why. Arms suddenly flew over his head and locked around his neck, and pressured was brutally applied, the scent of drying blood choking him. He was pulled against a body, feeling the tremble in it, and breath heated his ear.

Kaecilius. In the time Karl had been torturing The Ancient One, he must have managed to break through some of the spells, at least. Still bound, still gagged, but still fighting none the less, and Stephen lashed out a whip of magic, snapping it around the Staff and ripping it from Karl's hand.

Kaecilius kept him pinned and Karl tried to fight him; he had taught Kaecilius so much of what he knew. But despite his wounds, despite the punishment, Kaecilius still had strength in him. And Karl could not fight, because Kaecilius was cutting off his air and blood, and he could not get free, his fate sealed as Stephen rushed to help.

He was not flickering back into consciousness, words muffled and far away, but he sensed someone beside him as a spell was used, and the words seemed to echo through his skull.

"You were supposed to be better than me." Kaecilius whispered in his ear and for some reason, the words hit Karl hard, even as he slipped away into oblivion.

When Karl came around, he was in a familiar place, though it was unexpected. The cells beneath the New York Sanctum, in the central one, as if he had been put on display.

Stephen was standing in front of him, cutting an impressive figure in the light and his robes and the Cloak.

Groaning, picking himself up off the floor, Karl glowered at him. He discovered there was a glass of water and a plate of food on the ground beside him, and Stephen did not move.

"They'll both be fine, before you ask. But you did a number on them, you son of a bitch. They're lucky. Scars, physical and emotional, but they'll heal and fade with time." Stephen said once Karl was on his feet.

"If you are expecting me to apologize, I think we have established already that I am not sorry for what I did. It was necessary, and remains so."

"Who named you judge, jury, and executioner?" Stephen asked.

"I was only doing what is necessary."

"Torture is not necessary. Maybe if your form of justice was just killing them, I could understand it. But I can not understand torturing people like you tortured them."

"You will never understand, Stephen. You are still so blind and foolish."

"The Ancient One... She mourns you, Mordo. As much as she has anyone. She blames herself. Kaecilius, well, he's a different story. But he still remembers how things were between you. He understands how much a person can change, though. I think he knew you were a lost cause far before I did." Stephen said and he sounded sad.

"I did not make them choose their actions. I was merely making sure they paid for what they did. That justice was served." Karl said stiffly.

"What justice, Mordo?!" Stephen cried, jerking his hands as if he wanted to cast a spell or perhaps strangle Karl. "What justice? Torture is not justice! The Masters of the Mystic Arts don't torture people! Not even Kaecilius did that, not even when he went off the deep end and worshipped fucking Dormammu! That was not justice, it was you making your own rules and getting what you wanted."

Karl clenched his teeth. He felt a sense of... Shame, despite everything, because of Kaecilius's words. You were supposed to be better than me. Was that what Kaecilius had been thinking of him before? Even after he had sold his soul to Dormammu, that Karl was better than him? Kaecilius had always had a temper, had always been stubborn, and Karl had done his best to teach him, to impart natural law to him, and yet he still had broken it. And Kaecilius did acknowledge what he had done; in the past few years when they had fought, he had not tried to defend himself nor act as though he were blameless to Karl. But now, for him to say that... It did give Karl a pause. But he quickly shoved it away.

"They still need to be punished. Too many sorcerers, Stephen. Too many breaking the natural law." he said, feeling his own hands clench into fists.

"Those days are over, Mordo. You have hurt a lot of people. Probably killed more than we know. We can't let you go." Stephen said and Karl had known this would come, eventually, if he was caught.

He knew he could not hope to break out of the Sanctum's cells; they were too old, too powerful. And he was as bound as he had bound The Ancient One and Kaecilius. He was stuck here until Stephen decided otherwise. And that was not something he could allow.

"Kill me now, then, Strange. According to you, I have done terrible crimes, and I would rather not spend the rest of my life in your cage. It is a fitting punishment for what I have done in your eyes, is it not?" Karl said and Stephen stared at him.

"I am not going to kill you." he said, shaking his head.

"Still clinging to the goddamn oath! After all this! After all you have seen and done. You who brought the deaths of millions won't take one life by your own hand. Because of some mockery of an oath you cling to, something from a past life." Karl scorned, slamming a fist on the barrier.

"The Ancient One told me I was meant to be the best of us. Everyone who knows that thinks it's because of my power or my skills or something like that. I think it's this. I think it's because I cling to 'the goddamn oath'. I don't kill or even badly injure unless I have no choice. Maybe that is what makes me the best of us. And if so, I'm proud of it, Mordo." Stephen said and shook his head.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, Cloak flowing behind him, leaving Karl alone in the depths of the Sanctum.

Chapter Text

Stephen really hadn't wanted to bring America along. She was too young, too green, for this... But she had traveled the Multiverse alone and faced all the dangers that came with this, things he knew and things he didn't, since the time she was a little girl. Though she was new to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, though she was new to having some semblance of control over her powers, she was not new surviving.

And right now, they needed her powers.

They needed to send these beings home. No one wanted to kill them; half the time a being or a creature arrived on Earth and ran rampant, it didn't do so intentionally. Sometimes they were just lost and scared and acted like any animal or even human would. Lashing out at what seemed to threaten them, at what scared them, at things that wanted to hurt them. Humans were the same.

The creatures they were handling now, however, were not cooperating and that was not something they could be blamed for, but it made everything so much harder. The plan was to drive the creatures to where America could safely open a portal to their home world, as they had determined them to be the kind of thing that traveled the universes on a slightly different plane that apparently didn't exist on their Earth, which had spat them out onto theirs. Which had led to this. But they were running around New York like mad and had caused the evacuation of the area, which had been handled thanks to Tony and Pepper.

So the destruction the creatures were causing was only a danger to those trying to handle them and Stephen wondered vaguely if these days insurance companies had policies for property being damaged in alien and/or interdimensional battles as a car siren screamed. It was always such a pain when these things happened in the middle of city, but at least they no longer had to scramble to hide things while they dealt with them, which helped with where they sent masters and how they dealt with them.

Stephen flew over one of the pair, a large, scaly green beast that seemed to be a hybrid between a variety of thing, something like a dragon, something like a boar, something here and there he could not put a name to. It had sharp, terrible teeth that reminded Stephen of a shark's and massive claws on the front paws, a long tail that could be used to smash and whip.

It was only about the size of a bus, so not the biggest thing he had ever encountered, but fighting a bus-sized creature in the streets of Manhattan was not easy. The thing was like a battering ram and incredibly fast, and as he sent spelled down from above, the others in his team did their best to cry to catch it.

Li, Kaecilius, and Egeria snapped magical whips and chains around its ankles and tried to drag it to a stop, slow it down, direct it where it needed to go, but that was failing. They had already determined driving it through a portal didn't work; they seemed incredibly suspicious of it and avoided them. Stephen's plan was to try to open one beneath it, but he didn't want to risk it while the creature was moving, as that could injure it. It would also have to be quite a large portal.

So it was too risky and Stephen watched as the creature tried to twist around and snap at the masters, who managed to avoid it, still holding the whips and chains taut and trying to drive it down the side street.

Stephen launched a spell down that wouldn't hurt it too badly, getting its attention, and it looked up, letting out a shriek.

"Let's see if we can lure this thing, huh?" he said to Cloak, who fluttered, more than ready for the challenge.

They flew down, hovering above the other masters, who were straining and struggling, especially since he, the current target of its ire, had just came down.

"Release it! I'm going to try to lure it!" he called.

"Stephen, be careful! We don't know what it's capable of!" Li shouted, nearly getting ripped off his feet.

"I'll try." he said, which was the best he could do.

On a count, the masters released it, to follow and try what was necessary if this failed, and Stephen flew lower, flying ahead of it. He had to throw a few spells to keep its attention on him, but it worked, his potential threat luring it down the street to where America and Wong were waiting. He checked in on them and the other team with mind speak, as it would not do to throw both beasts at America at once.

"I'm bringing one to you. Are you ready?" he asked Wong, the Cloak flying them out of the way as the creature spat out a beam of magic.

It reminded Stephen a little too much of the beams Dormammu had blasted him to pieces with and he wondered what the effect would be if it had hit him but tried not to think about it. Information was flying back and forth via mind speak and regular shouting, informing positions, what the creatures were capable of, and so forth, and Stephen was doing his best to keep the creature interested in him, Kaecilius, Li, and Egeria making sure it didn't stray or cause too much damage.

But then...

"Stephen, stop! Stop! The other one is too close; we can't let them team up and America's portal isn't big enough for the both of them!" Wong shouted at him and Stephen swore.

The message seemed to be passed on and he dropped from the air, landing on the street several hundred yards in front of the creature.

"STEPHEN!" Kaecilius screamed at him, the creature letting out a bellow.

"Not going to hurt you, buddy. Not going to hurt you." Stephen muttered as he cast a spell.

He was reminded sharply of the bus he had cut in half defending America, but he had no intention of doing that to this creature, even if the spell would probably work on it (a giant saw blade spell would work on many things, really). The goal was to return it home, and it was just confused and scared. It didn't deserve that. Instead, he threw up a powerful shield to block it and turn it, trying to get to slow and stay away, because he was not putting America in danger like that, and who knew what could happen if the creatures were able to team up.

The huge mandala-shaped shield filled the street far beyond Stephen's arm span and the creature didn't do as he expected it. So far, it had avoided shields and the like, but this time, it kept charging, and he poured more magic into it as it collided with it, making sure it would hold. The others scattered, waiting, ready, and the creature swerved around the edge, aiming for Stephen. He let the shield drop and threw a spell at it to temporarily freeze it, but it shook that off like it was nothing and swiped at him with its talons.

The Cloak yanked him out of the way, his clothing fluttering by the wind of its passing, and he took a deep breath, spreading the word that the spell had been ineffective. Some creatures and beings were immune to certain kinds of spells, so it was surprise that it might be able to do that. They would just have to roll with it. But soon it was chaos, and Stephen was fighting the poor thing, trying not hurt it, watching as Kaecilius, Li, and Egeria tried to hold it back. It could hear the cries of the other one and that seemed to send it into a bit of a frenzy, making Stephen suspect they were mates in some kind of way, be it partners or packmates or something else.

He soon learned what the beam of magic did. Dodging the talons, the tail, the teeth- That was almost easy. But the beams of magic had a long range and made it hard to do so, and as Stephen drew its attention away from Egeria, he wasn't fast enough, or the Cloak wasn't fast enough. It didn't matter which. He got hit and the pain was sharp and intense, burning as well, and he glanced down. His side had been gashed pretty badly and some blood oozed out, but at the moment, adrenaline was holding it in. There was no time to stop, to use a spell or anything, and some of his belts were still together. He could survive it. He would be fine, if he got help right after. Right now, they couldn't afford to be a man down.

"Stephen, are you hit?" Kaecilius shouted, trying to tie a whip around the thing's muzzle to prevent it from firing more beams.

"I'm fine!" Stephen replied and tried to cast a net.

As a general rule, they didn't like to try to fully net beings and creatures because they could be hard to maintain and panic something more, but this thing was giving them very few options at the moment. As Kaecilius and Egeria distracted it and bound a front leg and a back leg, pulling it in opposite directions, he and Li cast a net, and tossed it over the creature. Rather than it being caught, the creature threw its head to the side and snapped its teeth into the net, ripping a giant hole in it as it came down.

"What in the Vishanti's name is this thing?!" Li cried as its eyes glowed the same golden color as the magic.

Stephen had no reply; all he knew was that he hated when they could absorb or consume their magic. That made it difficult and judging by the nearby sounds, the other team wasn't having much better luck with the other one. He thought again that they might have been attracting each other, setting the other off, and while they couldn't let them get to each other for risk of what they would do...

Flying up above the battle and letting out a warning through their minds, Stephen cast a spell of silence, silencing the cries of the other, and it seemed to work.

"Hurry up and get that first one through the portal. We might be able to calm this one down long enough to for you to get it through, and if you can hold the other one in place on the other side, we should be able to get this one through with relative ease." he told Wong and the others, and he got confirmations from them.

A sleeping spell would have worked wonders here, if only they weren't immune to those, too. These were fascinating... But there was no time to study them. Safety of Earth came before studies, even if studies could help them understand things to better protect it in the future.

Despite the fact the adrenaline was helping, Stephen knew he was bleeding, and since his belts were tattered and ruined, he couldn't stop and bind them around the injury. He would last, though. He had to. Despite his silencing spell, the creature kept pressing forward, because of course now it cooperated. His side burned as his muscles flexed and pulled, but he ignored it, barely noticed it, too wrapped up in the battle to care.

The inevitable happened, of course, and they weren't able to hold it back. Of course they weren't.

He was using of course a lot at the moment, but it seemed appropriate.

The two creatures converged on America and Wong and Stephen shot above them with the Cloak, reaching down and snatching America's hand, yanking her out of danger, her star portal closing quickly. Stephen knew Wong could get himself out of danger and despite all her progress over the months since she had been with them, America was still a student and shouldn't have been in this situation at all yet. The only reason she was in it was because her portals were useful to get these things home. Couldn't hold them, couldn't put them to sleep, couldn't freeze them, couldn't contain them long enough for the usual ritual.

He adjusted America so she wasn't dangling, her arms wrapping tightly around him, and he placed her on the helpfully wide, ornate facade of a nearby building. It reminded him of when they had first met.

"You okay, kid?" he asked, looking her over, but he didn't see so much as a scrape.

"Yeah." America said, peering down at the street below as the creatures shrieked.

"Stay here until I say so." Stephen ordered and didn't wait for her to say she would.

He flew away, trusting her, and lashed out with a spell, snaring a whip-like tail and yanking the creature as hard as he could. He couldn't move it or lift it, even with the Cloak's help, but he could distract it and annoy it. The creatures were trying to keep their backs to each other, confront the enemies on all sides, and multiple languages were being thrown now, masters trying to see if they somehow understood something. When they could communicate with something, it almost always went better.

No such luck here and Stephen and the others- seven, including Wong- did their best to subdue the creatures without hurting them. It was almost a typical Monday, really, but in the middle of Manhattan and a little crazier than normal in its own unique ways. There were injuries, a glancing blow from a claw, a hit from a tail, being hit by debris, but no one else was hit by their magic, at least. The pain in Stephen's side pulsed, worse than when Mordo had stabbed him or Tony had shot him, comparable to when he had been facing Dormammu, but he kept it hidden. No one needed to worry about him right now.

He fought alongside Kaecilius, coiling whips around front legs, trying to bind it down long enough for anything to be done, and, finally, it seemed like they had an opening.

"Kid, get down here!" Stephen shouted, throwing it out in mind speak as well.

They had the creatures contained, but it wouldn't last for long, and a portal opened, America leaping through, carelessly leaving it open, but there was no time to close it.

She punched a portal into the air in front of one of the creatures and it shone and crackled, not sucking things in like an unstoppable vacuum, not out of control. It was bigger than the first ones she had made- size being a recent addition she was working on- and the blue star shone, Wong yelling at Aleeze, Briar, and someone Stephen had last track of to let it go. Spells were released, masters scrambled away, and the creature shrieked. Instead of running home, as they had hoped, it shrieked in fury at the way they had its mate contained and whirled, aiming at America.

Stephen was pretty sure he screamed as she was struck with that powerful tail, sent flying and tumbling across the pavement, and he was flying over before he realized it, throwing up a shield in front of her as Wong barked orders.

Stephen honestly lost track of what was going on after that. His sole focus became America and the shield, making sure the creatures couldn't get to her, and he did understand that she might seem like a threat with her portals, but she wasn't.

"America. America, kid, talk to me? Can you hear me?" Stephen said, risking a glance over his shoulder at her.

She wasn't moving, not responding, and his heart tightened in his chest. But he couldn't go to her, not yet, and he didn't want to ask the Cloak to move her in case something was really wrong. It seemed to take an eternity, but the creatures were chased through, with the problem that no one but America could seal her portals. They could fade after a while, close themselves like a regular portal, but it took time and they didn't want to risk that.

A barrier was constructed instead and as soon as it was secure, Stephen dropped his shield and raced over to America.

She was scraped and bleeding and he placed a gentle hand on her to prevent her from getting up, because she was coming around with a low groan.

"Stay down. Are you in pain? Can you tell me where it hurts?" Stephen ordered as she opened her eyes, peering at them worriedly.

He needed a light to really check her pupil response, but they did the normal thing as she opened them, and she was staring at him.

"Did it work?" America demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, it worked. Now answer my questions. Where are you hurt?" Stephen said, relief breaking like a wave in his chest.

America took a moment to assess herself, and as Stephen began to examine her, she yelped in pain as he touched her left arm.

"There." she whimpered.

"Okay. Okay, don't move it. I think it's broken. Where else?" Stephen said as Wong came to join them.

"My... My side really hurts..."

"I'll bet." Stephen said and finished his assessment quickly.

She was pretty banged up and he was worried about what he couldn't see or easily detect and wanted to take her to the healers immediately. But Wong- gently- asked America to close the portal so the masters wouldn't have to sit with it blocked until it finally closed, and Stephen picked her up carefully.

"Stephen, I can stand on my-"

"We don't know all your injuries. You're closing the portal and then you're going straight to the healers." Stephen snapped, because despite the fact she was talking and alert, he wasn't convinced she was entirely okay.

She had hit her head pretty hard, after all, and while the wound wasn't deep, there was blood beginning to mat her hair, and Stephen wanted that wound looked at quickly. She was alert, hadn't vomited or anything like that, but she had a head wound and had been unconscious longer than he was comfortable with.

America became a bit docile in his arms and punched her portal closed from his embrace; he wasn't setting her down. The Cloak helped him support some of her weight as he created a portal and they went through with the others who needed to be looked at, Wong keeping everyone else back to assist with clean up. Another benefit of being friends with the great Tony Stark; he was apparently going to help them with that.

"Are you injured?" a healer asked Stephen and he shook his head.

He didn't care about his own wound, that could wait. America needed to be their focus now. She was bleeding, broken, and had hit her head, and there were all sorts of things that could arise from the hit and tumble she had taken. Stephen had operated on everything from gunshot wounds to tumors to the results of car and motorcycle accidents, and once even horseback riding. A whack to the head and a wound could be so much more than they initially appeared. He turned her over to the healers and was kept back, waiting, pacing, and restraining himself like he had once been unable to as a doctor.

He ignored the healers, ignored Wong when he came back. He was fine. He would be fine. It was America who mattered most right now.

Chapter Text

America had never been so beaten-up after anything, even hoping across the Multiverse, before. Not even after everything that had brought her here to Kamar-Taj, or the time she had snuck out to join a mission to warn the masters.

The healers fixed her up pretty well, as they always did. Her broken ribs were healed but still sore, her broken arm healed but put in a brace for a few days. Her scrapes were cleaned up and left to heal on their own, her head wound assessed and healed, too. She would have some aches and pains for a few days, but nothing was seriously wrong with her, and she got a few days of rest before she went back to training.

The healer went out to get Stephen, who had been waiting this entire time, and America could hear him asking an onslaught of doctor questions, which made her want to laugh.

"Stephen!" she called, drawing him away from the poor healer.

He appeared a moment later with Wong and Stephen smiled at her, looking relieved.

"Hey, kid. How are you feeling?" he asked, coming to stand next to the bed.

"I'm okay. Everything sort of hurts." America admitted and Stephen nodded.

"You did well, America. I'm sorry I had to call you out for that, but your portal was certainly the safest way to get those creatures home." Wong said to her, but America hadn't minded.

Sometimes, it was a relief not to be running and fighting all the time, to just sit back and train with her fellow students, but America would be lying if she said it wasn't nice to go out and do anything every now and then. Properly, she wouldn't be allowed to go out until she was out of red robes, if not higher ranking, and this disappointed her severely.

"How do you always manage to cut your cheek like that?" America said, noticing the dried trickle of blood on his cheek, stemming from a scabbed cut.

"I'm special that way." Stephen said with a shrug.

America began to ask questions about what had happened after she had gotten hit (she was admittedly embarrassed that it had happened, but Wong reminded her that she was a student). America didn't get far with her questions, though, because she was looking at Stephen, and he had suddenly gone white. His hand where it gripped hers looked suddenly corpse-like, especially against her warmer skin tone.

"Stephen?" she said and then, bonelessly, Stephen collapsed next to her bed.

He fell so suddenly and fast the Cloak didn't even have time to catch him, the thud of his body hitting the floor loud and unnatural.

"Stephen!" America exclaimed as she leapt off the bed, Wong rushing around the other side.

"What's wrong with him?!" America asked and her voice had a hysterical note in it.

The Cloak shifted aside and Wong moved Stephen, revealing a deep, bleeding gash that had torn through his robes and soaked the blue material a dark purplish color, having been concealed by the folds of the Cloak. Angry purple lines exploded around it like a starburst, pulsing in time to the blood pumping from the wound, and America swallowed hard.

"Damn it, Stephen." Wong muttered before yelling for the healers.

"What happened?" America repeated, but Wong was pulling her away, out of the healers' way, and out into the waiting area.

"Wong, what's wrong with Stephen?" America demanded, turning to him.

There was a sudden fear deep in her chest, a hollowness there and in her stomach, that made her lungs feel like an empty cavern and each breath she sucked in was echoing in it. She remembered the feeling from her first portal, of seeing her moms being sucked away from her, screaming, and whenever one of them had gotten hurt or suck. Fearing that whatever was wrong was really wrong with her parent.

"It looks like one of the creatures hit him. With the magic, I think, because no one else has an injury like that." Wong said and he tugged her over to the chairs.

He made her sit and healers were rushing around, using the room America had been in, and the Cloak remained in there, making America feel slightly better, because the Cloak never left Stephen's side if it could help it. But her fear increased as healers came out, urgently passing word onto each other, and then she heard one of them order someone to get The Ancient One, and Kaecilius.

"The Ancient One?" America said, looking at Wong with wide eyes.

"She knows many different kinds of magic, America. She is often called to help with things." Wong said in his usual calm, firm voice, but America could see the worry deep in his eyes.

"And Kaecilius?" America asked, as he struck her even more odd than The Ancient One.

As Wong has said, The Ancient One made sense. But Kaecilius....

"He has more knowledge in particular areas of magic than most." Wong said, each word carefully chosen.

America knew what that meant, though, no matter what pretty words Wong used to cover it up. Kaecilius had a unique knowledge of dark magic, due to his studies to reach Dormammu, perhaps even more than The Ancient One. She found herself clutching Wong's hand tightly in her own and he squeezed it back as the two came quickly, Kaecilius bearing bandages of his own. He hadn't escaped uninjured either, but he was much better off than Stephen.

"Wong, can we- I-" America said, suddenly worried, because The Ancient One and Kaecilius were going in, and despite their knowledge, they were not healers.

How bad were things for Stephen?

Wong gave a nod and America felt almost dizzy as they slipped into the room, Wong moving her to stand in the corner with him, his hand still holding hers tightly.

They watched as The Ancient One and Kaecilius examined the wound, Stephen now stripped of his robes, and they spoke low, probably so America, at least, couldn't hear. They were looking at the wound, consulting with the healers, and then speaking to each other, performing a spell or two that was too advanced for America to know the purpose of. It made it all the more terrifying, and Wong murmured to her in Spanish, trying to soothe her.

America clung to his hand as the pair set to work, not looking away, the Cloak wrapping its hem around her other wrist. She hadn't been this afraid in a long time, even after Defender had betrayed her, even after what had happened on Mount Wundagore. This time, she was afraid for someone else, someone she loved, and America honestly didn't know what she would do if she lost another parent.

That was what Stephen had become to her, a parent, and she had never had a dad before, hadn't needed one, but now... It was nice to have a parent again, and now she was possibly going to lose her third one. America pushed back her tears, not looking away, because she didn't want to miss anything, she wanted to see that Stephen was going to be okay.

Kaecilius rounded the bed to stand on the other side and he and The Ancient One began to cast spells- it looked like the usual healing spells weren't working- that were even more unfamiliar to America than the last. She could tell by the change in Wong's voice and his grip on her hand that he wasn't sure what they were either, that even with his knowledge there were still things he didn't know.

Magic and runes began to take shape over the wound, guided by two pairs of sure hands, Kaecilius's voice a rising and falling rhythm as he chanted in some other language, and America realized that he and The Ancient One were working two different spells at once, working in tandem and weaving them together.

No one moved and Stephen remained still and pale on the bed, America squeezing Wong's hand harder. She wasn't quite sure how she was remaining upright, to be honest. Between the way her own body hurt and her fear, she felt like she might be cut away from her body at any moment. But she stayed and watched, hoping, and she knew The Ancient One and Kaecilius would do all that they could for Stephen.

It took a long time. America could see the watch on Stephen's wrist, the one with the cracked face, and she kept track of the time that way, watching the hands tick, tick, tick. Healers were working even as The Ancient One and Kaecilius did, mopping up blood and using their own little spells, but the bleeding hadn't stopped, and America was worried about the amount that Stephen was losing. In addition to the healers, Kamar-Taj did have surgeons, because magic couldn't fix everything, and sometimes you couldn't rely solely on that, and America was waiting for them to be called in, for someone to start a blood transfusion, anything like that.

An hour. It took an hour for The Ancient One and Kaecilius to complete whatever they were doing and the settled the spell over Stephen, something puffing out of his wound like smoke.

Then the pair was scrambling back, making way for healers, who had blood, spells, and medical supplies at the ready. The Ancient One made a quick gesture to Wong and he pulled America and the Cloak from the room, their little group winding up in the waiting area again.

"Is he... Is he going to be all right?" America asked and her voice sounded very small.

Like she was a little girl again and calling into the strange new world for her moms, before she knew that yelling in a new place was dangerous. Like her voice had been when Amalia had gotten sick with a fever and couldn't get out of bed, and she had asked Elena if she was going to die.

"He is strong. Now it is up to the healers to do the rest." Kaecilius said, which wasn't an answer, and America had the sudden urge to hit him.

She never really wanted to hit anyone before, but in that moment, she wanted to punch Kaecilius in the face, to let out her emotions in some way that wasn't screaming or crying because if she did either of those things it felt like she was going to break into a thousand little pieces, and then she would be useless.

"The magic in him was causing damage and spreading. It was keeping the wound bleeding, like the agents in some animal's saliva. He has lost a lot of blood, America, and the magic was attacking his body, more than he likely thought. The magic is gone now, and he can be healed. He is out of the woods, but we will have to wait and see what the healers say." The Ancient One replied, and America swallowed.

She was grateful for the honesty, but it didn't make her feel any better. Their group sat in the waiting area together and America had to let go of Wong's hand because her own fingers were going numb. By the looks of things after she let go, she had more or less killed Wong's.

"He will be fine, Miss Chavez. Stephen has survived everything the years have thrown at him, including death. I doubt this will be the end of him now." Kaecilius said to her, maybe trying to make up for his previous words.

America nodded, but she was still scared. Master Hamir brought tea for them all, and some food. None of them were leaving. Well, Wong had to, as he was Sorcerer Supreme and had duties to attend to. But he came back and America held The Ancient One's hand when he was absence, taking comfort in the old woman's presence. Eventually, she curled up against Wong, taking comfort in him too, The Ancient One's hand on her leg. She was tired and still hungry, but she didn't want to leave, didn't want to sleep, not until she knew Stephen was okay.

It took longer than the spells to cleanse the magic from his body, but soon a healer came out to them, and all of them were sitting up and alert. He bowed respectfully to Wong, The Ancient One, and Kaecilius, and America wanted to shout at him for the formalities.

"How is he?" Wong asked, rising, releasing her.

"He lost a lot of blood, Sorcerer Supreme, and the wound was deep. He is weak, but he is stable. It is likely he will pull through." the healer said, and America's entire body felt weak with relief.

Even though the healer said likely. She knew that part of that had to do with not making any promises, in case something went wrong, in case something happened, but Stephen had told her how bad his car accident had been, how bad he had been stabbed by one of the Zealots, and everything else. Kaecilius was right about Stephen having survived many things.

"Can we see him?" America asked immediately.

"Soon." the healer promised, The Ancient One squeezing America's ankle before she could protest.

A few more words, and the healer left, though soon did turn out to be soon. He returned and told them they could go in, two at a time, and America looked around at the adults. Wong beckoned her and America followed, barely keeping herself from running.

Stephen was in a different room now, not the one they had had her in, and laying with his head propped up on pillows, the blankets sitting on his hips and revealing a lot of pristine white bandages swathed around his middle. He had an IV with blood in it and it struck America as almost strange, what with all the wonderous spells available to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, that something that seemed so ordinary was in the room. They had been told he wouldn't wake up for a while, but America didn't care.

She pulled up a chair beside the bed and swallowed hard, feeling the tears finally well in her eyes.

"I knew you were going to be okay." she whispered, gripping his hand tightly, letting the tears flow.

Chapter Text

Stephen had been lucky. Extraordinarily lucky, and extraordinarily foolish.

Wong wanted nothing more than to berate him, but the fool wouldn't wake up. It had been two days since he had gotten injured and he had lost a lot of blood, had been subjected to foreign and powerful magic, but Wong was feeling impatient. And more worried than he wanted to admit.

Stephen had pulled through a lot of things, but Wong knew there would come the day when something finally got him, and part of him feared this was it. He was recovering as well as to be expected from the magic and the injury, but he simply wouldn't wake up. The healers said he was fine, everything looked normal, and that he was doing well. The trauma he had suffered meant it wasn't surprising that he was in something like a coma, but...

Wong sat with Stephen as often as he could, the worry ruling his mind, and he was the staple in a rotating cast of people who came to sit with him. America, The Ancient One, Kaecilius, Daniel... They all came and sat for a while, and the Cloak hovered, but despite its worry for Stephen, it didn't stay too long, assisting Kaecilius his duties.

Wong was sitting here now, reviewing some things that needed to be reviewed, and he had banished America, wishing she didn't require more than two days' rest from her injuries before she could continue training. It wasn't good for her to linger here by Stephen's bedside... But that thinking also made him a hypocrite. He had been here as often as he could, for as long as he could, himself. Despite what the healers said, after the Snap, after everything, Wong was terrified that this was the thing that would finally kill Stephen Strange.

Wong wasn't sure what he would do if he lost Stephen again. He hadn't known Stephen would come back during those five years, and he had just gotten him back, it felt like. If he lost him again, for what was certainly to be forever this time... Wong didn't want to think about that.

It was evening now, and he kept reviewing things, glancing at Stephen from time to time. Kaecilius came in, the Cloak streaming from his shoulders, clashing terribly with his saffron robes. As he entered, the Cloak took itself off and floated over to the bed, running its hem over Stephen's cheek.

"Wong, I am here to relieve you." Kaecilius said, almost like an announcement.

"Is that any way to speak to your Sorcerer Supreme?" Wong asked, glancing up at him.

"Have I ever shown such respect?" Kaecilius challenged.

Not really, no, but that was beside the point.

"I am fine, Kaecilius. I can work from here just fine." Wong said, shifting the papers in his lap.

"You need to eat and take some time to yourself. Stretch your legs, get some fresh air. I will send the Cloak to you if anything changes." Kaecilius said, voice firm.

"I-"

"You have been sitting for here for hours, and, according to the others, you missed lunch. Go and eat, and then you can sit here again." Kaecilius interrupted, tone not unlike what you would use for a child.

"I am fine." Wong repeated and Kaecilius snorted.

"Hypocrite." Kaecilius said and snapped his fingers.

The Cloak flew over and floated beside him, collar tilting.

"The Cloak and I have already agreed that it will remove you if necessary. And you know you will not be able to stop it." Kaecilius said, the Cloak giving a flutter.

Wong sighed heavily.

"I care for him too, you know. You as well. You can not stop looking after yourself because Stephen is not here right now. For America's sake, at least, go eat, get some air, and perhaps talk to her outside this room. Kamar-Taj can function without you at the helm at the moment, but your daughter can not." Kaecilius said, softening his voice.

Wong paused. Kaecilius had a point about America. He had been neglectful of her, between sitting here and trying to keep up with his duties. Even when she was in the room, he hadn't had much time for her.

"All right. One hour."

"Two."

"One."

"One and a half." Kaecilius said and the Cloak fluttered warningly beside him.

Wong had no doubt that it would take him away, and that Kaecilius would likely steal his slingring while he was at it if he deemed it necessary. Kaecilius had changed since Stephen had saved him, but some things would always remain the same.

Wong reluctantly left, Kaecilius settling in a chair, and he went to find America. She was talking with other students, on her way to dinner, but she didn't mind when he asked her to eat with him tonight. She threw her arms around him, actually, and Wong hugged her back.

He used the time to catch up with her, to see how she was doing outside her worries for Stephen, and she complained about not being allowed in classes until the end of the week, despite the spells that had healed her. At the end of the meal, however, she put her fork down and looked at him, her eyes full of worry.

"Wong, is Stephen going to wake up?" she asked bluntly.

Wong wanted to sigh, but he kept it in, and he wondered for a moment what to say to her. He didn't want to lie to her, but America was just fourteen, scared, and she had already lost two parents. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to fear losing a third. He had been too young to truly remember his mother all that well or what it had been like to lose her, other than there was a sadness there. And though he believed in the truth, he knew sometimes the truth was not always what was needed.

"He will. He suffered a terrible injury, America, and foreign magic besides. You just need to give him some time. He was out for longer after his accident." Wong said, injecting confidence into his voice that he didn't entirely feel.

America nodded and after they finished eating, they both went to Stephen's bedside. It was impossible not to, to leave someone you loved like that without knowing, and Kaecilius stayed with them for a time. Eventually, though, he and the Cloak left, and Wong and America were alone for a while.

The Ancient One arrived late, bearing tea, and she gave them each a cup, sitting with Stephen as well. Wong nodded to her gratefully and she squeezed his hand.

"Stephen is strong." she told him, and Wong had to wonder.

Stephen had told him of her seeing endless possibilities for him, and he wondered if she had seen him surviving past this time, or if this was the end of those possibilities, or if there were possibilities where he did survive and didn't, and it was impossible to tell. But when it came to the future, Wong knew better than to ask, and he took comfort in her company, along with America's.

He did watch The Ancient One as she gazed at Stephen, trying to read her expression, studying her scarred face. More scarred now, thanks to Mordo, like Kaecilius's, like many of them, in the end. But her face was a careful mask as always, and her head was tilted so he couldn't quite see her eyes, which always showed more than she intended.

They sat there and drank their tea, and no one stopped America when she crawled into bed beside Stephen, curling up against him like a small child. If that was what she needed, Wong would allow it. He stayed up late, long after America fell asleep, but soon enough, he fell asleep, and so did The Ancient One.

"Ow... Ow, kid, you're making it hard to breathe."

The rasping voice woke Wong up and he jolted, alert, conditioned after son many years to wake up ready, because you never knew what was coming.

His head turned to Stephen, and he saw gray eyes blinking open, a hand gently shaking America awake.

"Stephen." Wong said, relief making so much tension drain from his body he felt almost too weak to stand.

America woke up in the meantime and she lifted her head, gasping, then threw her arms around Stephen, making him groan.

"Kid...!"

"You're okay. I was so afraid that you weren't going to be." America said, her voice muffled by Stephen's shoulder.

Stephen reached awkwardly to pat her shoulder, and Wong went to fetch a healer. America released Stephen and they waited outside until the healer had finished, telling them that Stephen would likely have a bit of recovery ahead of him, but he would be all right, in the end.

He was sitting up when they returned, leaning back against the pillows, and he smiled wanely at the sight of them.

"I'm sorry for having scared you."

"You were a fool, Stephen." Wong snapped, losing some of his composure.

"What?" Stephen said, looking startled.

"You knew very well you were injured and denied it in the midst of battle. Then afterward you refused care and got yourself into this mess. The Ancient One and Kaecilius both agreed that if you had not fought for so long and concealed the injury, it would not have been half as bad as it was, because you allowed the magic to run rampant through your body." Wong informed him, his voice hard.

Stephen had scared him one too many times in their years of knowing each other, and he supposed some of that suppressed fear and anger was coming to the surface now.

"I didn't know the magic would do that." Stephen said with honest innocence.

"No, but you are a Master of the Mystic Arts, and should have known better! Next time you will not be so lucky. You will run out luck eventually." Wong said, voice rising, and he hated to lose his composure like this.

America was looking between them, looking almost worried, and Wong took a deep breath.

"I was worried about America." Stephen muttered, and Wong let out a long breath through his nose.

He had been worried about America as well, though perhaps not as scared as Stephen, and he could not fault Stephen for that. He could fault him for being an idiot, though.

"Never do that again." Wong said simply, calmly.

"Is that your order as Sorcerer Supreme?" Stephen asked with a slight smirk, lifting a brow.

"If it is necessary, then yes." Wong said, staring him down.

Stephen chuckled and then winced, his hand going to his bandaged side.

They talked a few minutes, Wong explaining what had happened precisely to Stephen, and Stephen grimaced. As Wong headed to inform the others who had been waiting for him to wake up, Stephen called out.

"Hey, Wong?"

"Yes?" Wong said, glancing back.

"I love you, too."

Stephen's recovery was longer than it usually was after an injury, even a magical one, but this had been a type of magic they were not certain of, even if The Ancient One and Kaecilius had managed to purge it from his body and heal most of the effects.

Not only had the wound been bad physically, but magically, it had also been damaging. He found that his magic was hard to use, resisting him, and he could not use it for very long without tiring. Between that and a wound that had cut deeper than he had realized and the blood loss, recovery was longer than he would have liked.

He was no stranger to pushing and pushing himself, but this time, he couldn't just push himself. This time, many different parts of him demanded proper recovery, proper care and attention.

He couldn't train, couldn't go about any of his duties, couldn't even do a load of laundry in the Sanctum because he was instructed not to lift anything too heavy or strain his injury. Due to its placement, many muscles in his side pulled at the injury, which had to rely more on natural healing than magical due to the magic that had infected him. He learned the hard way that bending to do the laundry put an uncomfortable strain on it, compressing what had been hurt, and he had to have the Cloak help him.

He would have just used magic, but it felt almost like when he had been first learning to wield it, coming in fits and bursts that didn't last for long. They had determined it wasn't permanent, but the magic had damaged something in him, and he would have to heal and do what was more or less the magical version of physical therapy. He was frustrated with it, but not as frustrated as he might have once been.

He had helped The Ancient One relearn her magic and had seen her frustrations, limitations, and everything else. He knew the drill, he knew what to expect, and now it was her turn to assist him. She was more than happy to do so, and while he could not start training immediately, they discussed it once the side effects of the magic became clear.

Six weeks, at the earliest, for the soft tissue damage to heal. Twelve weeks if he was unlucky or did something stupid that interfered with the healing.

So he took it easy and when he was healed enough to take some strain, to be able to do a stupid load of laundry without getting some help from an ancient relic, he began to train. He couldn't do too much around the Sanctum, but Kaecilius employed him wherever possible (though Stephen was not the best cook for multiple reasons and Kaecilius immediately switched him back to his usual turns). He checked relics, he cleaned, he did whatever he could do, and when possible, he trained.

The Ancient One helped him quite a bit, having the most free time out of his close friends too, and Stephen appreciated the time together, especially when America came to join them. She was still learning too, so they got to learn together, and Stephen sort of liked that. The evenings were the best with training, or the early mornings, when Wong and Kaecilius were most often able to join them. It was nice, practicing and going through the basics with his loved ones, and sometimes even Daniel and Hamir joined them. Stephen wasn't entirely sure why, but he did enjoy it.

He had a feeling they might have been trying to understand this unexpected development from that magic, observing him while helping him, and Stephen couldn't even feel annoyed about that, because they did that to patients all the time while teaching new doctors.

He was recovering. Healing took time, and pain was an old friend, something Stephen was used to, something he knew and accepted and could bear. Even if he had never felt it like this before.

Before he knew it, the full moon was upon them again, the monthly celebration where the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj let loose and enjoyed themselves, took a break from their duties, training, and relaxed.

They were eventful, with food, drinks, dancing, games, fireworks, magic, and so many more things, a blend of the cultures all the masters over the years had brought to Kamar-Taj. Even after all these years, Stephen was still surprised, and he looked forward to them each time (even if he had removed everyone's memories after that one... But he wasn't going to think about that right now).

He might not have been well enough to participate in some of the things, but he could enjoy the rest, and he went. Chairs and tables were set up, lanterns were shining gently, the windchimes hanging from the eaves chiming in the breeze. There would be those on duty, because the duties of the Masters of the Mystic Arts didn't wait, but tonight was a rare night, where everyone Stephen cared about could enjoy it together.

He couldn't really dance or play some of the games (or have sex, for that matter, which always happened), but he could sit, talk, and watch, and that was enough for now. Soon enough he would be back at it like nothing had happened.

He sat down with The Ancient One and Hamir, listening to the music, sipping a sweet drink that he had only ever had in Kamar-Taj, watching as America danced with Wong. Wong was a good dancer, skilled and graceful, as if he had been trained, but most of the Masters of the Mystic Arts were skilled dancers by the time they became masters. The training to use their magic and in martial arts gave them the grace and understanding. America had yet to learn that, but she was enjoying herself, and that was all that mattered.

He watched as Kaecilius and Daniel danced, and hell, it wouldn't put that much strain on him if he did it right and picked the right music for it.

"May I have this dance?" he asked The Ancient One formally when the music became something he was certain he could handle.

He knew, even with the dimensional energy, sometimes things were not easy or enjoyable for her, especially after the torture she had endured at Mordo's hands, but she accepted. It was slow music, suitable to both of them, and Stephen briefly thought that if she had still been the Sorcerer Supreme, he wouldn't have had the courage to ask her. He had never seen anyone but Hamir ask her to dance during them when she had been Sorcerer Supreme, and some people still rarely did.

But she accepted and they danced, and that had a been a bit of a mistake. Stephen's side was twinging by the time they finished, but he ignored it for now, indulged in some games too, and a dance with his daughter.

He was hurting afterward and Kaecilius berated him so similarly to Wong, checking the injury while Stephen sat in a chair and doing a magical check to make sure nothing had actually been damaged, and he shook his head.

When the moon was high, that was when the magical fireworks began to be released, some like something out The Lord of the Rings, shaped into fantastical creatures that flew and moved on their own. They painted the sky in front of the moon and Stephen sat with his chosen group, biting back the pain. They had learned quickly that with this, pain spells, potions, and medicines didn't have much of an effect. But as he had thought before, pain was an old friend, and for now he breathed through it, America on his one side, his head propped on Wong's shoulder as they all watched the display together, Wong, America, The Ancient One, Kaecilius, Daniel, Li, Hamir, and himself all clumped together.

He would scar. He would master his magic again. And he wouldn't be doing it alone. All of them had been hurt over the years, and they would be hurt in the years to come. But they wouldn't be alone and, given enough time, they would all recover from those hurts, too.