Chapter 1
This time, he didn't find the Masters of the Mystic Arts. They found him.
They cornered him in an alleyway. The woman in yellow robes, his Master, The Ancient One, still alive, stepped towards him. Her hands were empty, open. Instinctively, he backed up and bumped into another hooded figure, blue robes, grey hood. Mordo?
"You are not where you should be Mister Strange," The Ancient One said. Hands clamped down on his shoulders. He resisted the urge to flinch. The stones in his pant pocked warmed. He tramped down on their power. None of them were meant to be here and who knew what consequences using their power would have. The power subsided, the warmth remained.
"My PT appointment isn't until Thursday," he said. ''I don't need to be anywhere."
Orange sparks floated in the corner of his eyes. The hands on his shoulders burned. His own were shaking, useless. The Ancient One moved closer. Her face was open, unthreatening. He felt very threatened.
"Yes, you do," The Ancient One said. "You should be in Nepal. "
Time swirled around her in pale green smoke. It didn't cover her as it covered him, maintaining its distance. The burning on his shoulders grew more intense. It was in his head; the other sorcerer hadn't used any spells. He, very firmly, ignored the orange sparks he'd seen.
He held up his hands. They were still trembling violently and the red mark from where he had spilled tea hadn't faded yet.
"See these? I can't go anywhere with these. Have to finish physical therapy first."
His hands were an old matter. He'd had a long time to get used to them. They were just another part of him now. The Ancient One frowned a little.
"Don't you want to fix them?" A note of intensity crept into her voice, but she sounded genuinely curious.
He had, once. But he had made the choice not to, was still making the choice not to. He had been making that choice for more than thousands of years. It was easy. He looked her in the eyes. She was still so assured of the future, of what she had seen with the Eye.
"No"
The Ancient One faltered.
"No?"
"No."
Confusion spread across her face, a ripple growing larger in a still pond. It was nice to see that she could have other expressions aside from blanket calmness.
"There are other ways to do what I want," he told her, suppressing a smile. He didn't have to stick to the choices he'd made before. He probably shouldn't. Those choices had led to the universe's end.
So arrogant to think your choices were the only ones that led there, Time whispered to him, amused.
They certainly didn't help, he thought back.
"Oh?" The Ancient One reached out her hand and pushed.
This time, his soul stayed where it was. Soul's threads were woven tight, binding him to his flesh. It wasn't dreamwalking. There was no other mind screaming at him, nor was there the chilling emptiness of the absence of one. It was just the soul stone's power holding him together.
The Ancient One made an interested sound and pushed again. Soul's threads didn't loosen, but pulled tighter instead. They were still gentle against the wounds. They'd dissolve, like surgical stitches, once he recovered.
"It won't do anything. " Soul had been very firm that his soul needed to be in his body for it to heal and for the body-soul connection to form. Reality was helping, a constant whisper of this is the soul that has always and will always belong in the background. It seemed doubled somehow.
"I see."
"Master," the Master behind him said, wariness in his tone. Stephen flinched, heart jolting into a rapid rhythm. It was Mordo. He forced his body to still, pushed the memory of a blade severing his tendons, back, and didn't look away from The Ancient One. She looked back at him, that same blanket calm covering her face.
"How interesting," she said.
She gestured to Mordo, pale hands just barely in his vision. Mordo released his grip. The Ancient One took his arm.
"Let's go to Nepal, Mister Strange."
They took a portal to Kamar-Taj. He only hesitated slightly. It wasn't like The Ancient One could strand him on Everest midway through. Stepping through a portal only took a second. Though to be fair to her, it had worked. He had learned how to surrender, was still learning that lesson.
One of the temple's courtyards could clearly be seen through the orange glow. It was empty of people, but the deepening dark of the sky explained why. The Ancient One-he'd have to remember to get her name this time or at least something to call her by- stepped through the portal without glancing back. Mordo pushed him forward and he nearly tumbled through. Reality rearranged itself so he didn't.
The smell of spice hit him first. He'd nearly forgotten what it smelled like. Chili, cumin, and other spices whose names he'd long forgotten. Someone had told him once, naming each spice as they handed it to him so he could sprinkle it in the pot. Wong perhaps?
His breath caught and he forcibly exhaled and inhaled. The air was crisp and chilly, settling into his lungs. The bite of winter was not yet gone. It was quiet too, though he could hear the faint sound of bells ringing in the wind, the faint flapping of flags hung between roofs.
The portal closed behind them and The Ancient One turned, walking inside. She didn't look back. He followed before Mordo could push him again.
The hallways had less color in them now. Their latest crop of initiates had started to put up whatever artworks they could find on the walls after they had finally finished rebuilding. There had been an entire wall full of graffiti-style art in one of the west hallways, thankfully on canvas. Master Yama would have made them all scrub it off the walls otherwise, no matter who was or wasn't involved.
Their footsteps were very loud; he missed the rugs. America had loved them, stating that she hadn't really gotten to see many rugs in her travels. She'd enjoyed beating them on the line to shake out the dust, dirt, and other debris on cleaning day.
He swallowed, footsteps faltering. America was gone. She had been pulled into one of the chasms. Her hand reaching for him before the multiverse had taken her. He had no way of knowing where she was or even if she was safe.
Grief threatened to rise, sharp and sticky. Fog covered it, pushing it beneath a blanket of calm.
Ahead of them, The Ancient One stepped into a room. He followed her in.
It looked remarkably similar to the room he'd first met her in. The balcony was where he remembered it, with the snowcapped mountains beyond. The bookshelves were against the same walls, the low table in the same place, and Master Hamir sipping tea in the very same spot. Why was Master Hamir here?
The Ancient One gestured to an empty seat. He sat.
Mordo stepped close, towered over him. His hands ached, deeper, near the tendons. He wanted to rub them, warm them. The cold wasn't helping. But Mordo was still there. He wouldn't show weakness.
Power nudged him, an offering. He pushed it away gently. This Mordo wasn't his Mordo. But he would probably try to kill him all the same at some point. The Mordo from universe 838 had tried too.
"Mordo," The Ancient One said and held an entire conversation with her gaze when Mordo looked at her. Her eyes flicked to the doorway again and Mordo sighed. He gave Stephen a long look before leaving. He couldn't interpret it. He had long lost familiarity with any of Mordo's expressions. Hate being the exception.
Silently, Master Hamir pushed a cup of tea towards him. It was filled just enough so it wouldn't splash when his hands inadvertently jerked. He picked it up and immediately curled his hands around it. Warmth seeped into his fingers, the ache turning gentler. It wouldn't ease, not for a long time yet.
The Ancient One closed the door, sat across them, and stared at Stephen intently. What did she see? He probably looked the same as in her visions. His hands weren't strong enough for shaving yet and Soul had said not to use any power. He had only ignored it the once.
Master Hamir handed her a cup. She took it, still keeping her eyes on him, and took a sip. The same blanket calm was on her face.
"You are different than I expected," she said.
He frowned at her. She'd never introduced herself nor had anyone introduced her this time.
"And you are?"
"They call me The Ancient One," she said and offered nothing further. Cryptic as always.
"That's a mouthful. Can I get a name?" Time laughed in his head.
The Ancient One laughed too, the blanket calm breaking out into amusement. Incredibly, Master Hamir laughed as well. He'd never laughed when Stephen had been at Kamar-Taj, though he did remember some of the initiates trying to make him.
"You can call me Morgan," The Ancient One said. Morgan, like Morgan le Fay, like Tony Stark's daughter. Grief welled in him again, hot and sharp as it had been during Stark's funeral. The memory of Morgan crying in her mother's arms rose, sour. He cut it before it could form fully and took another sip of tea.
"Well, Morgan, " he said. "Why am I here?"
"To learn magic of course."
She'd rejected him the first time, had made him wait five hours on the doorstep before letting him back in. Why had she changed her mind now? The stones laughed at him. Right, he was changing things by just being himself. Should he tell her?
Time wouldn't have. It loved its surprises.
But, she could help him. Thanos was coming. It seemed to be a fixed event in every universe he'd visited. You've only visited three properly, Reality said. It sounded amused.
He opened the connection and let the stones' presence come forward. They were always with him now, though they were kind enough to stick to the background.
We don't want to fracture your sanity any further, Mind said, ominous. The world chilled, sharpened. Familiar unease twisted in his stomach. The hole in him gaped, a muted horror starting to fill it. Yellow-orange threads dulled the emotions before they could fully sharpen. His mind went a little fuzzy, artificial calm taking over him. Why were they doing this?
It's not safe yet, Soul said gently. It was always gentle, warming him down to his core.
"You are thinking very hard," Morgan said, drawing him back into the room. She was observing him as if he was a fascinating relic that she had come across. He could be, he definitely wasn't human anymore. Maybe they'd store him like an object, locked away in a glass container until he chose a sorcerer to bond with.
That's the Cloak of Levitation, Space said, helpfully. Not you.
Should he trust her?
Your choice, the stones offered, unhelpful.
Why couldn't they make the choice for him? They owned him. He had offered them everything had, everything he was, in an effort to draw them back together so they could be the universal anchors once more. It hadn't worked. It was too late and reality had shattered around them.
The Ancient One, Morgan, was still waiting for an answer. She was patient, but how long would that last?
He took another sip. The cup was empty.
"I already know magic," he started slowly. Morgan leaned forward, folding her hands underneath her chin.
"There was an incident."
Grief surged through him before it was quickly blunted and pushed away. The anger that would have come at that wasn't there. He suspected it was suppressed too.
"An incident?" Still the same blankness, though Master Hamir was starting to look apprehensive.
He nodded, reaching into his pocket to draw out the time stone, and put it on the table between them. Master Hamir gasped, immediately standing up. He and The Ancient One exchanged a look before he was striding out the door. He'd go to check on the time stone in the library. It would still be there.
"I ended up here from the future," he said. Morgan started to ask a question before they were interrupted by Master Hamir stepping out of a portal with the Eye of Agamotto held in his hands. It was open and the stone inside was glowing.
Master Hamir placed it on the table, very nearly dropping it, and backed away quickly. The Ancient One seemed to be speechless.
He was too. He hadn't really believed the stones when they had explained. He'd been trying to push himself out of his mind. He'd been so sure he was dreamwalking, that there was another him trapped with him. Was that why they had decided to blunt his emotions?
"Explain," The Ancient One demanded, "now."