Chapter Text
* * *
No one would have ever accused Stephen Strange of having a warm heart. Hell, even during his days as a neurosurgeon he'd left the bedside manner to his colleagues. Cold, matter of fact, some might even call him stony. (Or better yet, a total asshole.) Just to top it off with such an inflated ego it was a wonder where it was stored within his wirey frame.
And one car crash and set of mangled hands later, the prideful surgeon's world came crashing down around him. Yet out of his despair, Stephen Strange found salvation in the Mystic Arts. THIS was his true calling. He'd left to seek healing for his hands. Instead he gained the power to heal the very Multiverse.
Then came the day that sealed his fate; when a young child with extraordinary powers fell into his lap. (Some might say literally, depending on who you spoke with.) Trust had been a delicate balance, give and take; for a man with his face and name had already betrayed her prior. Armed with a star-spangled denim jacket, a cutting wit, and extraordinary abilities she couldn't control, America Chavez slowly but steadily worked her way into the sorcerer's cold and stoic heart.
(Oh yeah, there was also the horrifying tentacle monster that had been hounding the poor girl, but that thing was long dead at this point.)
He'd protected her, cared for her; at first out of mere duty. Keep her safe but at arm's length. At least that's what the sorcerer tried fooling himself with. Then it became so much more then that.
His ultimate failure probably began on Earth 838, somewhere in between the Scarlett Witch Dream Walk rampage and his own little dip into the dark arts. (Perhaps the precise moment America nearly tackled him to the ground as her arms wrapped around his waist in a hug.) So much for arm's length!
Sometime later, Stephen confessed to 838 Christine, "I've always wanted to have someone to care for and care for them in return."
It all suddenly dawned on him after an embarrassingly long length of time. Roughly five seconds after stepping through his portal back to the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York once America was safe and sound at Kamar-Taj.
He'd already found it! Just not in the way he'd expected. In the heart and soul of a young nexus being. Doctor Strange had been adamant about never wanting kids. But that was before watching America light up whenever she saw him, with absolute trust and adoration in those big brown eyes. That was before he'd earned her warm hugs and constant energy. Endless optimism and curiosity, not just for the Mystic Arts but the multiverse as a whole.
"I'm really glad that I fell into your universe!"
Stephen meant it when he smiled back, "So am I, kid."
(And to think, he'd given Tony Stark a hard time! Vishanti rest his valiant soul.)
Doctor Strange had been adopted. By Starlight incarnate, he'd been adopted. Accepted and loved. Not through any sort of power dynamic for his pride to feast upon, but for being a guardian. A friend... or another "f"-word that even a great sorcerer such as himself was too afraid to say out loud. Yet out of an infinite Multiverse, she CHOSE him!
Which leads us all to the present, and the rather precarious situation the good doctor found himself in.
* * *
"Are you happy?"
For the longest time, he'd lied to others and himself. Such a casual and inconspicuous question that could make one freeze and truly consider the deeper facets of life. Yet happiness, at least for a Master of the Mystic Arts, didn't come from a vast well of power or saving the Multiverse as we know it on multiple occasions.
No, happiness came from the simple things; like the empty box from Joe's Corner Pizza Shack on the coffee table. The Spanish 101 textbook accompanied by messy scribbles of notes. The soft hum of the out of place flat-screen TV Stephen picked up shortly after America moved in. A comfy spot on the couch. Lots of throw blankets. And his well cared for ward contently curled up with him in what served as the New York Sanctum's living room.
"Hey there kid, I need you to - um, America?" Stephen muttered, as he tried to move.
A task much easier said than done upon realizing just the sort of situation he was in. The girl, resting comfortably on top of him in a pair of fuzzy pj pants decked out with stars and her mentor's old Columbia t-shirt. Credits rolling on the TV, and that pleasant haze of quiet drowsiness on a peaceful night.
It was late. America had classes to attend the next day at Kamar-Taj. AND he was expecting Wong any moment with one of his late night visits that could have been an email.
Now came the part that required surgical precision; dislodging the child from him without disturbing her.
Carefully, the sorcerer sucked in a breath, tentatively shifting his body on the plush couch cushions. This did not have the intended effect, as his sleeping charge moaned softly, snuggling up closer before settling against his chest with a contented sigh. She was quite comfy right where they were, his heartbeat her soothing lullaby. It would seem as though nothing short of an ancient Eldritch Terror would be able to make the doctor move from this spot.
(And considering The Order dealt with one of those just last Tuesday, they weren't due for another for at least two weeks. Minimum! Besides, if Wong caught wind that Stephen was out battling fiends and sealing dimensional rifts after being placed on light duty until further notice... well, that was far more terrifying of a thought than any ancient Eldritch Horror.)
That wry smile crept onto Stephen's lips as he sighed. Really, this shouldn't have been such a chore; the old him wouldn't have thought twice about disrupting someone's peaceful rest. But the old him didn't know or come to care for America Chavez. Glancing around for "plan B", the sorcerer spotted it out the corner of his eye. His ever faithful sentient relic, hovering at the window as though deep in thought.
"Mind helping me out, here?" Stephen whispered, beckoning to the deep crimson cloak.
Rustling her thick, graceful folds softly, the Cloak of Levitation drifted towards her chosen sorcerer. Now, the plan was to have the relic gently and carefully lift America up, thus allowing Stephen to slip out from underneath. Unfortunately for him, the old cloak had a mind of her own. Instead, she simply settled over the two of them, causing America to snuggle more firmly against him.
"You traitor..." grumbled Stephen, playfully.
He shook his head before fondly running his trembling fingers over the thick, sentient red fabric.
Fickle thing indeed. And just in time for the telltale sparks of a portal opening up. Great... peachy keen.
Wong (and his unreadable poker face) stepped through the shimmering ring of gold and orange embers, allowing it to seamlessly fade behind him. As always, he was well put together in his deep purple and gold silken robes. Never before had a man carried with him such an aura of calmness combined with overwhelming intensity.
"Hey Wong, I'd bow but..." Stephen muttered, trying to play it cool as though all of this was planned.
He totally wasn't stiff or awkward in the slightest! Nope, not the great Doctor Stephen Strange.
Upon the sight that greeted him, one eyebrow raised as Wong leveled a critical look to his friend, "Stuck?"
"...No."
A low groan left the Sorcerer Supreme's throat. Everything in that room told a story. He knew just how much Stephen adored that child. (After all, his own soft spot for America Chavez was at least the second or third worst kept secret at Kamar-Taj.)
"When are you going to learn to just accept the help that is offered to you, Stephen Strange?" Wong questioned, shaking his head while trying to hide the look of endearment fighting to contort his features.
* * *
With a little patience and teamwork, both sorcerers successfully moved their resting apprentice into her own room; comfortably tucked into bed and none the wiser. Stephen brushed a few dark, stray hairs out of the girl's face. By a few hand gestures, a softly glowing mandela spun to life, taking root on the ceiling above, emulating a starlit sky. Ever since the whole Scarlett Witch fiasco, America didn't like being in complete darkness.
"Good night, kid," Stephen whispered, smiling as the Cloak of Levitation gracefully settled on his shoulders as he turned to leave.
"Rest well, young one," added Wong, nodding politely as his friend held open the door.
There was much to discuss, just not to the detriment of waking America and invoking her endless curiosity. In a few steps and a touch of inertia, the two sorcerers found themselves in the Relics Room, a relatively safe place to chat as not to be overheard. Stephen's eyes darted to the case which once housed his cloak. That truly felt like a lifetime ago. Since then, the Sanctum's collection had grown.
"Parenthood looks good on you, Stephen Strange," Wong mentioned, as they strode in between the cases and displays of priceless relics and artifacts, "which reminds me, I do hope you're ready to receive another one."
Strange didn't even have a chance to touch on that first sentence seeing as he was rather preoccupied with the words "another" and "one."
"Excuse me?" he balked, sharp blue eyes piercing through Wong's poker face, "What exactly do you mean by another one?"
Wong stopped in front of a particular display, one of their more recent finds; a dragon egg. Gold in color inlaid with flecks of blue upon a scaly shell.
"Didn't you get my email? The Organization, it's what they call themselves," the Sorcerer Supreme stated, sounding a bit exasperated, "one of the konderi packs has reason to believe that this dragon egg may be one of theirs. We are to be visited by an ambassador from the Redsun Nation."
"Redsun? You mean the Dragon Keepers? Here?!" Stephen clarified, barely suppressing an annoyed groan.
Little was known about The Organization or it's members, only that they'd lended their assistance to Kamar-Taj in the past. And given recent events, new allies would prove vital in not only restoring the Natural Law, but detering would-be zealots from rising up while the Order was still recovering from severe losses.
"Well, you were the one who wanted to be rid of the darn thing," Wong pointed out, placing his palm against the warm, scaly surface of the egg.
"Yeah, well America has had enough of dangerous monsters chasing her down," mentioned the doctor, frowning slightly at the egg as though it just offended him, "I don't want that thing hatching in here, but how do you know we can trust this Redsun ambassador with it?"
Now that was the ten million dollar question. One that would require a lot of paperwork and navigating red tape. Artifacts of this sort were not simply handed out willy nilly, after all. There was going to be a major vetting process that the Sorcerer Supreme would put the konderi ambassador through.
"We don't. Not yet."
Wong beckoned for Stephen to follow, this time the two of them ended up in the Sanctum's kitchen after just a few steps. Already knowing what Wong was after, Stephen humored him by conjuring a couple of mugs and heating up the kettle on the stove. Both sorcerers shared a fondness for tea, although Wong was much more finicky; insiting that it be brewed the proper way.
"Her name is Neo Redsun. Princess Neo Redsun, The Hand of Mercy. She's not much older than our own America Chavez," Wong continued, allowing the jasmine tea to steep, "and Miss Neo will not only be visiting Kamar-Taj, but staying at the New York Sanctum as well. Her people have great renown for healers, you know. Therefore I trust you to be a gracious host, Doctor Strange."
There was a rather heavy emphasis placed on the word "doctor."
A rather perplexed look furrowed across Stephen's features. On the one hand, he enjoyed having his ego preened. He may no longer officially practice medicine, but he proudly proclaimed the title of Doctor, even preferring it over the title of Master. The Redsuns were skilled healers in their own right, if primitive and rudimentary. Perhaps there would be common ground. However, on the other hand, the sorcerer knew that this was all part of Wong's master plan to get him to take it easy for a while.
"So... sidelining me to babysit a foreign dignitary?"
"Well when you put it like that..." Wong sighed, rubbing his temples with a groan, "come now, Doctor Strange, you and I both know that last Eldritch Fiend took a lot out of you."
The very same creature Stephen insisted that he could handle... all on his own. In typical Strange fashion. Also returning from the battle battered and bloody but insisting he was perfectly fine. (America would tell you a different story; having taken one look at him, summoning a portal of her own and saying a single, shaky word, "Hospital!" All with a very direct hand pointing towards the Kamar-Taj healer's wing within the shimmering sparks, paired with a ferocious glare that nearly broke her caretaker's spirit.)
Just as Stephen was about to justify his decision, Wong continued.
"Shush! Need I remind you of your recent run in with Mordo as well!?"
A slightly defeated grunt left Strange's throat as Wong checked on the sweet-smelling tea. Thank the Vishanti America was safe at Kamar-Taj for that one! Mordo never broke into the Sanctum Santorum, having carelessly activated one of the newer protective wards Stephen added since his ex-friend left The Order. Yet the corresponding scuffle was still a brutal one, once again leaving the Master of the Mystic arts exhausted and in need of healing.
Stephen opened his mouth to speak, only to get shut down once more.
"Ah, ah! Light duty, Doctor Strange. No exceptions!" ordered Wong, speaking now as the head of The Order rather than his friend.
Thankfully, any further arguments on the already settled matter were quelled by tea. Perfectly warmed, with just the right amount of honey for Stephen's taste. For as much as being sidelined to light duty nearly drove a man like Strange to start climbing the walls, he had to admit that America was happier with him around more. (Not that he'd EVER voice that out loud and give Wong the satisfaction.)
"So, anything I should know about my future houseguest?" Stephen questioned, feeling his cloak's hold on his shoulders tighten reassuringly.
"We spoke briefly, Neo and I. The konderi are not as primitive as they would have you
believe," the Sorcerer Supreme snorted out a laugh he'd been trying to hold in, "Let's see, she made a request for there to be sour cream and onion chips, or crisps as she calls them. Oh yes, I found her bird to be most amusing."
"Wait a minute, she's bringing a pet?!" grumbled Stephen.
That's all he needed; some royal diplomat's animal wondering around the Sanctum. Mystical artifacts. Sentient furniture. Sharp objects. What could possibly go wrong?
"Familiar, Stephen," Wong corrected, "not a pet. She was quite adamant about that."
Ah! A familiar. Even better. An animal that could talk back! Suddenly it felt like that cute little cartoon fox on his mug with the accompanying 'For Fox Sake' was just mocking him.
"Just be grateful that I talked the young ambassador out of bringing her dragon here," Wong muttered, over the rim of his mug before taking a sip of the warm, soothing drink.
Stephen nearly let out an undignified snort as he was taking a drink, his eyes growing wide for a moment. No, NO! He did not want to deal with a dragon, this whole thing was to see if they'd be returning the unhatched one back home with her. Neither he, nor America, wanted such a beast sharing the New York Sanctum with them.
"Thanks, Wong," he sighed, giving a sheepish look before hiding behind his mug once more, "she has a dragon?!"
The Sorcerer Supreme nodded, "Oh yes, she did ask if she could use the archery range at Kamar-Taj during her visit. Very politely too. Apparently Neo's quite skilled with a bow."
Stephan quirked an eyebrow at that statement. So, he'd have to play host to a foreign healer and her familiar for a few days. Keep her entertained enough so that she DIDN'T bring an oversized, fire-breathing reptile to a crowded metropolis. Shouldn't be too hard. Right? Perhaps America would enjoy the company of a girl her own age. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
"You know, this could have been an email."
"What? And no tea?" Wong gasped, refilling his mug before offering to top up Stephen's, "unthinkable!"
* * *
::To Be Continued::