Chapter 5
Though America Chavez hadn't involuntarily wandered the multiverse in a while, she never forgot the rules. It was easy to slip back into multiversal travel. She'd been doing it for years before she met her Stephen.
She swallowed hard, tears pricking at her eyes. She'd never see him or Wong or any of her friends again. The universe she'd grown to call home was gone. She knew it instinctively; there was nothing she could go back to. She'd lost her second family now too.
Keep moving America, she told herself. It's all you can do.
It was hard. This universe was too similar to the one she had come from. She stepped into a memory with every corner she turned. Often, she had to find a nearby wall to lean against and breathe through the weight in her chest.
She'd ended up in a New York with a familiar layout. Her money worked. No one looked at her twice. It was summer and there were a lot of teenagers wandering around. Positives. She had to keep her mind focused on those.
Inevitably, she ended up on Bleeker Street. She was trying not to, but her feet took her there anyway. She found herself looking up at the Sanctum, still intact, still familiar. The large front window of the Sanctum was the same size and shape of the one at home. The door was the same color. The weight in her chest was back.
Her knees buckled and she sat down, hard, on the steps. Her heart was pounding in her ears. It was, suddenly, very hard to breathe. She wanted to go in, but she didn't want to go in. There would be a Stephen in there, but he wouldn't be hers.
She stayed on the stairs. It was warm and the street quiet. She still heard the noise of reality ripping apart, still saw Wong falling into the void. She hadn't been able to find Stephen before her power yanked her away. She shivered, suddenly cold.
Behind her the door groaned open.
She sucked in a breath and very slowly got to her feet. Who would it be? Stephen? Wong? Someone else altogether? She wouldn't know unless she turned around. She didn't want to. She did anyway.
The Mastery robes were the same color, though there was no yellow at the edges. The posture, the expression, everything was the same. Then, she saw the hair.
"Wong?" She said, incredulous. "You have hair."
It was short, spiky, and neon green.
Wong looked unimpressed, slightly disgruntled even. America burst into laughter, feeling the weight lessen. He was so much like her Wong.
She peered past him. The doorway was dark and the Sanctum large. Just because she couldn't see anyone else, it didn't mean they weren't there.
"Sorry, sorry," she said between laughs. "It's just I've never seen you with hair."
Wong frowned. He looked like he was trying to place her. Perhaps he'd dreamed of her? Stephen had said he'd dreamed of her the first time they'd met. Maybe this Wong had done the same and that's why he didn't seem to be suspicious of her.
"One of the initiates did it," he said. "If you must know. It's normally black."
America looked him up and down before nodded. "Black hair, I can see that."
She looked beyond him again. Wong turned to look too. He was considering something, she could see it in the lines of his posture. She'd always had to rely on other cues when it came to Wong. His face never gave anything away.
"Want to come in?" He said, stepping away from the door and clearing space for her.
She nodded, stepping after a moment and taking in in the hall. There was carpet, soft and springy. Her shoes left imprints on it as she walked further in. The hall seemed smaller, but the window was still in the same position. The large staircase was still there, leading up to it, though the steps looked steeper.
The door closed with another groaning sound and she turned to look at Wong.
"Shouldn't you oil that?"
Their Sanctum's door had never groaned. It had creaked, had yelled once when a particularly angry spirt had taken possession of it, but it had never creepily groaned as this one did. Wong opened a side door and stepped inside, not answering her. She followed.
"Is Stephen here?"
She wasn't sure if she wanted to see this universe's version of Stephen Strange. He wouldn't he hers; it wouldn't be the same.
"Who?" Wong asked as he continued down the hallway.
What?
She hurried to catch up with him. He hadn't gone far and had actually slowed down to let her catch up. Her heart picked up its pace and she could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck. Her palms felt clammy.
"Stephen Strange," she said. "He isn't the current Sanctum Master?"
Wong looked at her, confusion written across his face and she felt disoriented for a moment. Her Wong had never been open with his facial expressions. Her eyes flicked up to his hair and she remembered where she was.
"I am the current Sanctum Master," he said and America's heart dropped to her feet.
They ended up in the kitchen. Somehow most of her conversations with Wong had seemed to take place in a kitchen. This one was larger than the one at home. Her Wong would have been envious of the counter space. There were more windows too, light streaming in from them to dapple the room in sunbeams.
He'd found some pizza in the fridge, pepperoni, and had stuck it in the oven to warm up. America suspected it hadn't been there before judging by the exasperated look Wong had given the fridge. She looked down at her juice. This Wong didn't seem to like pizza. Her Wong hadn't really liked it much either, but he'd never complained. He'd even suggested ordering it sometimes when she was feeling particularly sad. This Wong didn't have tea either and, like her Wong, didn't believe in giving coffee to teenagers. He had given her mango juice instead.
Stephen had given her coffee once. Just a few sips, but she'd hated it. He'd never drunk much coffee either. Apparently, they kept it around for visitors.
"Is this your first time meeting another version of me?" Wong asked.
He hadn't looked surprised when she'd told him how she ended up here. Did people here already know about the multiverse? While her Stephen and Wong had experienced the multiverse even before they'd met her, most of the people she'd met had never known it existed before she had come into their lives.
"Yeah," she said. "I usually meet versions of -"
Stephen. Did he even exist here? She couldn't imagine a Wong without him, but here one was. Wong took another sip of his coffee and opened his phone.
"What did you say his name was?"
Google existed in this universe just like in hers. Wong typed the name in and turned the phone around so she could see. Stephen had a Wikipedia page here too. The one at home had ended after his accident. Everyone in her universe assumed Doctor Strange was his superhero name, so he technically had two.
She read the page. Stephen was still a neurosurgeon here and had created a few more techniques than in her home universe. She scrolled down and stopped. His background was different. The page mentioned a living sister, an actress, Donna Strange.
Her Stephen had told her about his sister only the once when he'd been explaining how he'd gotten the Darkhold from his alternate. He'd mentioned that she'd passed way long before America had met him.
She pushed the phone across the table.
"The Stephen in my universe is different." She said, voice cracking. "He's a Master of the Mystic Arts like you."
Tears pricked her eyes. She'd never see him again. All she had was the sling ring, he gave her after she'd lost hers, and her memories. They were all that was left of him.
The oven beeped.
"I'm sorry," Wong told her gently and got up to get the pizza.
She took the plate he handed her, gratefully. This Wong was taking care of her like her Wong had.
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "Thanks."
"Drink your juice," Wong said in reply. "And eat. It sounds like you've had a long journey."
She drank. The cool sweetness slid down her throat. Then, she took a bite of the pizza. The one thing she loved about pizza was that it seemed to be a multiversal constant. The taste was the same no matter where she went. It was the one food that would be home no matter what.
Wong continued to sip his coffee. Shouldn't it be finished by now? Was he refilling it with magic? She wanted to learn that. She'd been starting to learn astral projection when they'd first noticed the rips in reality.
She took another bite of pizza and focused on the taste, on the texture of the cheese. She'd always used it to ground herself whenever she had started to miss her moms. She wanted them. She wanted to feel their arms around her and tell her that everything would be alright. She'd lost both sets of parents now hadn't she?
She exhaled forcefully and tried to breathe around the weight in her chest. Grief clogged her throat. She'd never see any of them ever again.
"You are welcome to stay here."
Wong's voice cut into her thoughts and she looked up, startled. He was watching her with a sad look and it was so weird to see Wong so expressive. She didn't realize other people's alternates could be so different.
"Thanks," she said. Her voice sounded teary and silently, Wong handed her a tissue box. She took it and loudly blew her nose.
"I will continue your training," Wong continued. "You will be my apprentice."
America stayed silent, considering it. Could she stay here? She had enough control over her powers to avoid being involuntarily thrust into another universe. It would be possible. But, this universe was so similar to her own. She couldn't go down the street without remembering the times Stephen had taken her into the city. They had explored it together. He'd never really seen it when he had been working in the hospital, he'd told her. And there hadn't been time after he'd learned sorcery. America had gotten the impression that the Order had been smaller then, more secretive.
"You can think about it." Wong said, breaking into her thoughts. "There is no time limit."
She refocused on him. He looked hopeful, though he was trying to suppress it.
Was he lonely? The thought suddenly came to her. Her Wong had been friendly with everyone in Kamar-Taj, but he never seemed to be close to anyone...and Stephen wasn't here.
America knew she couldn't visit him. This Stephen had probably never even heard of magic and she'd just disrupt his life if she showed up out of nowhere. He wouldn't know her. But Wong was here. He was different than her Wong, but that just made it grounding. She could look at him, at the expressions on his face, at the hair, and know she wasn't home.
America was used to picking up the remaining pieces of her life and moving on. She'd done it when she'd lost her moms. She'd done it after the monsters had stopped chasing her. And she'd do it again now that her home was once again gone.
She smiled at Wong, teary and hopeful. "I'd like that."