The bright blue star-shaped portal slowly ebbed out of existence behind America Chavez as she stepped on through it, followed by Stephen and the Sorcerer Supreme himself. The faint blue outlines of the star slowly faded away behind her, being replaced with a settling dust that blew across the clearing of Kamar Taj. She blinked a few times, waiting for life to register into her brain again.
It wasn’t that uncommon for her to come through her portals ever so slightly dazed after her wild trips around the many different multiverses, especially since she managed to portal to more than she was usually used to all within the same day. She blinked again, swallowing nervously as she awaited for the gears in her head to start moving again.
It wasn’t until a firm hand made its presence known on her shoulder that she finally snapped out of her daze, eyes widening as the image in front of her finally clicked.
Kamar Taj was in ruins. Massive ruins . Everywhere she looked, America saw nothing but littered destruction, crushed posts, piles of rubble, and-
She inhaled sharply.
Dead corpses , her brain quickly supplied for her.
America found herself quickly losing her breath as she stared down at a charred body nearby her feet, only recognizable as what once was a living, breathing, person due to the remnants of bone and skull and a red aura of chaos magic tenderly flickering off in waves of their bodies.
She let out a sudden exhale, breath caught in her lungs as she stumbled back.
Your fault, your fault. Her brain seemed to tauntingly sing to her, voices clutching at her thoughts like a vice grip. A soft whimper escaped her, the grip on her shoulder tightening ever so slightly.
“It wasn’t your fault, kid.” A voice supplied from beside her. America blinked, dazed and lost in her own mind as the voice called out to her, almost as if it was reading her mind. She swallowed nervously, daring a gaze upwards. America found herself staring right up at Stephen, who’s gaze was locked on her own. An unreadable look was displayed on his face, whatever it was trying to mask the undoubtable sorrow he was feeling as well.
Because of you.
She felt herself tense as Stephen shared a gaze with Wong, who just nodded quietly in response. Not before long, her gaze had wandered back to the bodies and destruction that littered the once beautiful Kamar Taj.
America has been inside the whole time during the fight, she had never, ever , imagined it to be this bad.
She was pulled once again from her thoughts by the whispered conversation of the two men beside her.
“Do we know the casualties?” Stephen asked Wong, voice rough and wavering as he spoke.
“I haven’t had the time to take count. Our first priority after Wundagore Mountain was to locate you and get you back.” Wong replied, America blinking as she registered his voice.
Another breath escaped her as her gaze once again scanned the clearing. It was usually so full and teeming with life … and now-
“Come on, kid. We should take you back to the Sanctum and get you checked out.” Her gaze snapped back up to the sorcerer from the ruins at the familiar sound of his voice. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words.
“Yeah. Sure. Let's- let’s do that.” America responded hoarsely, clearing her throat as she backed away from the large ruin that now was Kamar Taj. Her gaze never left the charred and burning clearing as she heard the sound of Stephen opening a portal behind them, the orange flickers of light visible out of the corner of her eye.
She let out another breath as she was quickly ushered through. To the Sanctum, her dazed mind supplied. America tried to think positive. She hasn’t seen this version of the Sanctum. The last Sanctum she saw- it didn’t end well.
And there goes thinking positive.
She suddenly realized that Stephen was trying to talk to her as he shook her shoulder slightly. America’s blurry vision came back into focus as she looked up at him.
“I asked if you wanted to see where you’d be staying?” He repeated calmly, voice hoarse. America mentally facepalmed, realizing she had zoned out once again. She spared him a quick nod of affirmation before he slowly walked forward and up the large stairs of the Sanctum. America paused in place for a moment, before quickly following suit.
———
America watched as the door to the room swung open, revealing what would temporarily be her small quarters. Her mouth still dropped nonetheless, eyes wide as she took it all in.
It was nothing but a small room—with what would be the necessities for her living space—but she couldn’t help but feel choked up anyways. She hadn’t had an actual room since… well, since she killed her moms.
Still awestruck—and slightly grief-stricken—she stepped in hesitantly and spared yet another glance around the room. Since she was young, she had been traversing the multiverse day by day; she barely even got the chance to sleep, let alone be spared a place to stay. A smile quickly found its way to her face.
“This is… wow…” she trailed off, breathless as she stepped further in. She didn’t hesitate to immediately jump onto her bed, landing on her stomach with a small oof . Stephen gave a tired sigh at her antics, stepping into the room himself.
“It isn’t much, just until we can get Kamar Taj rebuilt, I assume.” He offered kindly, sitting down at the edge of the bed beside her.
America sighed softly in response. “I guess that makes sense, I’ll just find somewhere else to sleep, I guess. It can’t be that hard-“
She was quickly cut off mid-sentence, “No, kid- I was just saying that once Kamar Taj was rebuilt, I could get you a better room there. I wouldn’t kick you out. You’re what- twelve?”
The girl scoffed, sitting upright besides Stephen and trying to ignore her burning thoughts. “I’m fourteen , for your information.” She pressed, a smirk dancing across her face. Strange rolled his eyes in response, cloak flying back onto his shoulders.
“Whatever you say, kid.” He retorted, standing back up and brushing off his pants. (Which, in all honesty, was pretty much worthless. Both of them were covered head to toe in dirt and whatnot)
America gave a soft yawn, laying back down on her bed. Her bed. The thought seemed to remain persistent in her mind. She smiled, yawning once more.
Before she could comprehend anything further, neatly folded clothes quickly appeared on her dresser.
“Get some sleep, now. I think I can say that we’ve had quite a long day, in all honesty.” America chuckled, giving a lighthearted wave to the sorcerer as he exited the room and closed the door behind him.
The young girl yawned again, laying her head back down against the pillows. Before she could even get the chance to get changed, darkness quickly encapsulated her vision.
———
White blurs of snow danced across her vision as America tried to repress her ever-insisting panic. She was once again strapped down onto whatever weird surface the witch had encased her on. No matter how much she writhed and screamed, the persistent red hex magic kept its grip hard.
She let out another cry as the witch hovered her into the air, her hands beginning to dance around as red magic tinted her fingertips.
And then, the pain.
It came so suddenly, without any hesitation; her powers being drained out of every fiber in her being.
She let out a scream, the magic leaving her like a breath on yet another chilly day in the snow as she continued to squirm and writhe in place. America could feel the witch slowly withdrawing all of her power from each fiber of her being, every cell even laced with the interdimensional ability. It was so slowly being drained from her, the pain throbbing and building up as the witch’s laugh filled her mind.
Someone would come save her, someone. Wong, Stephen, anyone.
Nobody came though.
Images flashes of her old Strange, his (very ugly) ponytail thrashing about in the wind behind him as he had suggested doing the same thing before quickly being impaled.
This time, there was nothing to help her though.
She let out another breath, her vision beginning to blur together with tears and dark spots that danced across her gaze. The red tints of the witch’s magic seemed to encase her vision in the same bright red color, the remnants of the magic continuing to drain from her body ever so slowly.
She was so scared.
And not even her portals could save her now.
Nobody.
She let out another bloodcurdling scream as what must’ve been the last of her powers drained away. Somehow, a portal suddenly cracked into existence behind them and a voice seemed to call out to her.
“America!”
“America!”
———
“America!”
Almost immediately, her eyes blinked open, the girl attempting to inhale a gulp of air. She heaved as her body continued to shake in place.
“Kid- you need to calm down-!” The voice yelled out to her again. It barely even protruded her thoughts as she tried so desperately to move, to get out of harm's way. America didn’t even notice the large portal protruding from behind her. She so very selfishly tried to scoot closer to it, the familiar crackling sounds of the rip in the multiverse calling out to her.
She barely registered the touch as a hand firmly grasped onto her shoulder. America let out another scream of fear, thrashing away from the touch. The blankets of her bed had found themself tangled and intertwined between her legs due to her restlessness, causing her to promptly fall off the edge of the mattress.
America tried to inhale a breath as she made contact with the ground, the familiar portal sounds still reminiscent in her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs; it was like she was back at Wundagore Mountain as the powers she had been hunted for for so long were stripped from her. She felt breathless.
She fixed her eyes close, trying to focus on taking deep breaths. Just like her moms had taught her. America let out a choked sob as she tried to inhale whatever air hadn’t seemingly been sucked out of this room. She briefly registered Stephen sitting in front of her panicking form, body draped in the darkness of the room. America whimpered at the sight of him, briefly recalling his words—no, the other Stephen’s words—as they rang through her head.
Your life is worth infinitely more in the grand scheme of the multiverse.
Once again, America felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her, trying once again to take a large gulp of air but to no avail.
She had to calm down, she knew that; but she just couldn’t.
Memories flashed behind her closed eyes; memories of her and her moms frolicking under the warm sun and picking flowers, memories of when she would have nightmares in the middle of the night and run to their room where they would console her with the soft caress of her cheek and kind but hushed words, memories where they would all eat together by tall trees and tall grass.
America found herself opening her eyes once again—not exactly sure when she closed them—as she took in large gulps of air. She was ok, she was ok. The thought found its way interloping her train of thoughts that had briefly come to a halt. She shuddered, form still shaking in place as she took in more deep breaths.
If she focused hard enough, she could almost feel the familiar hands of her mothers as they massaged her hair to calm her down, to soothe her.
Not before long, she found herself able to breathe again, now sitting on her knees instead of curled up on the ground. Stephen sat patiently in front of her, just as he had been moments prior. She let out a shaky exhale at the sight of him. The Stephen Strange. Her Stephen Strange. Not like the other ones.
A long and quiet moment of silence stretched out between them, Stephen’s hands trembling on his lap ever so slightly. Then, America quickly leapt at him and encased him in a bone-crushing hug. She gripped onto his pajamas as if they were her lifeline, feeling the cloak quickly wrap the two of them together. She sniffled, trying to constrict a sob from blurting out. Stephen was quick to comfort her, whispering calm words and squeezing her hands within his own.
They would be ok, America suddenly realized.
They would all be ok.
One step at a time.