Alright, folks. This chapter is 1 part fluff & 2 parts wild. Once again, the magic here is inspired by events in Aaron/Bachalo's Doctor Strange (2015) series.

Temperance was thumbing through a book of spells that Wong had allowed her to take from the Sanctum library. Ninety-nine percent of the tomes there were like the special collections section of a university library, and could only impart knowledge to her if Wong was breathing down her neck, supervising.

She didn't intend to learn any of the spells, of course. She was simply curious about what all could be done with the magic she had coursing through the lockbox of her body.

She slammed the book shut and pulled it into her lap as Tony entered her office so that it was concealed under the shadow of her desk.

"Look who decided to put in a few traditional hours," he greeted her in his usual snarky fashion.

"Yes, well, you know me. Notoriously lazy," Temp replied, raising an eyebrow, "can I help you with something?"

Tony's brows furrowed with suspicion, "since when do I need an excuse to come visit my favorite employee?"

"Happy is your favorite employee."

"Oh, don't be like that."

"I'm not complaining. He's my favorite employee, too."

"Am I interrupting something?" Tony asked, glancing at her hands, which were neatly folded on the desk in front of her like a woman pretending to mean business.

"Nope," she replied easily, "now show me whatever it is you came in here to show me."

"I'm not 10 years old, Temp," Tony said, offended, "I'm not always here to get your approval."

There was a long pause as the two friends stared at one another.

"Alright, so check this out," Tony began, unable to contain himself any longer, "You know I've been working on that new nanite suit?"

Temp nodded, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Well, because the nanites are going to slide over my clothes and stitch together into the suit, I need a way to compress my street clothes underneath."

"Like Peter's suit does," Temp cut in to prove that she was tracking.

"Exactly," Tony said, the excitement of his inner inventor lighting in his eyes, "so watch."

Temp watched as he pulled the drawstrings on his zip-up hoodie, and his clothes compressed against his body with a hiss. Temp's eyebrows rose.

"A little bit more detail than I ever needed to see you in, but that's cool," she replied, "where will the nanites come from?"

"I'm glad you asked," Tony said, uncompressing his clothing again, "I'm thinking I might put a housing unit on my chest so that they're there when I need them."

"An arc reactor."

"Not an arc reactor. A housing unit. It might look like an arc reactor, because, well, I have a brand to uphold."

"Have you spoken to Pepper about this?" Temp asked. She didn't imagine Pepper would love the idea of him having a suit on all the time, "and what, you're just going to wear that same outfit every day waiting for something to go wrong so you can use your suit?"

"Okay, first of all, has anyone ever told you that you're a killjoy?" Tony said, "and second, I can make more than just this one. Now, can we focus on this one for now? What do you think?"

"Function is a yes," Temp said, eyeing it with distaste, "design is a no."

Tony glanced down at his hoodie, running his hands over the black material with red piping at the seams, "well, obviously I can change the design. This is just something I threw together. Why, what's wrong with it?"

"It looks like Iron Man merch you bought from a department store."

"Okay, no need to be rude."

"Hey, if anyone can get away with sporting their own merch, it's you."

"You know what, I appreciate your honest feedback. This is why I keep you around."

"Have you thought about rebranding to purple?"

"Okay, I see what you're doing now; I'm leaving."

"Wait, I have some more ideas!" She called after him, "how do you feel about pastels?"

Tony stopped in the door frame, "Shouldn't you be focusing your energy on more important things right now? Like Pete's problem."

Temp's face turned serious, her eyebrows furrowing, "Pete's problem? What's Peter's problem?"

Peter hadn't agreed to talk to her about what happened until she bribed him with a milkshake from his favorite diner in Queens. Temp pumped the straw of her milkshake up and down to try and break up the clumps so she could drink it properly.

"So what happened?" She asked, looking at Peter through her eyelashes as she took a sip of the peanut butter banana shake. It was still too thick to travel up the straw.

"It's not a big deal," Peter said, "really."

"The principal didn't seem to think so. Neither did May."

"It's fine. I'm gonna make up for the classes I missed, and then the whole thing will be behind me."

"But what do we do about Flash?" Temp asked.

Peter had been found in the boy's locker room by the football coach, three hours after his gym class, hiding in a bathroom stall completely naked. After finding him some clothes, the coach had marched him to the principal's office, where Peter had refused to give any details about how he'd ended up in such a situation. Sensing that it hadn't been his choice, the principal had refrained from punishing him, but he'd called May to alert her to the situation. May hadn't been able to get the story out of him either. Temperance felt guilty that she had to hear about it from Tony. She'd not been investing in Peter the last few weeks as much as she should.

"Who said anything about Flash?" Peter said, shifting uncomfortably and taking a long swig of his shake. Temperance gave him a knowing look.

"Look, if you want to plot with Ned instead of me, that's fine. Just tell me you're going to keep your hands clean when you get back at Flash."

The corners of Peter's lips pulled up a bit at that, and Temperance felt a rush of pride. She didn't need to worry about Peter —he could take care of himself.

"So, any parties this weekend?"

"There was this one," Peter told her, "but I don't think I'm gonna go. Gotta give all this some time to blow over."

"Probably a good idea," Temp said, "how about we catch a movie on Saturday instead?"

"You're not busy?" Peter asked, perking up.

"Nope," she said, "my day's wide open."

"Hello?" Temperance answered as she balanced the phone between her shoulder and her ear and opened the pot on the stove to stir its contents.

"Hello," Stephen echoed back from the other end, "How's it going?"

"It's um…It's going well," Temp said distractedly, turning off the burner, "just about to sit down and have some dinner."

"Sounds good. What are you having?" He asked.

"Chicken tortilla soup," Temp said, ladling some soup into a bowl with a heavy helping of cheese and sour cream, "so what's up? Everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine," he said, clearing his throat, "I just wanted to…I figured I'd check in. I haven't heard from you in a few days."

It was true. Temperance had put some distance between herself and the sanctum recently. She was unsure about the nature of her role within this new system, but lines had certainly been blurred when she started going on house calls with Stephen. As much as she enjoyed learning about Stephen's world, she hadn't changed her mind about sorcery. If not using sorcery was what made the difference between her and her mother, she wasn't going to engage with it. The more time she spent at the sanctum, the more she felt that Stephen was anticipating her taking the next step.

Instead, she had refocused her energies on her own life and her own responsibilities. May had even convinced her to finally go on one of her ridiculous blind dates.

This one's a lawyer, May had said, so proud of herself that Temperance couldn't bear to say no again, I think you'll have a lot in common.

May hadn't been wrong. Matt Murdock and Temperance Ward did have a lot in common. However, the more they discussed the mundane details of their work lives, the more she was certain he could never fully understand her. It wasn't that she was against being with a non-superhuman. Perhaps, someday, she could settle into a normal enough life to do so. In fact, she was supposed to be doing that now. But she was still very much a part of that world, not to mention that she was sorting through super-level trauma that a normal guy like Matt Murdock probably wouldn't be able to understand, as sweet as he was. They had parted at the end of the night in agreement that they would make good friends and nothing more.

"Oh, yeah," Temp said, sitting cross-legged on the couch and balancing her bowl of soup on one knee. She decided there was no need to share that anecdote with Stephen, "I meant to stop in soon, but I've been busy. Peter's been having some trouble in school, so I've been dealing with that. And visiting Odin, of course."

"What's going on with Peter's school?"

Temperance's eyebrows rose. She'd expected him to ask about her conversations with Odin. She got the sneaking suspicion that he was only calling her to chat, and she wondered if Wong had gone out for the evening and left him bored and lonely.

"Oh, he just has some issues with this kid, Flash. It's not a big deal, but I've been trying to spend some more time with him to help him sort it out. I haven't exactly been focusing on work much lately," she said, blowing on a spoonful of soup and taking a tentative bite.

"Of course," Stephen said.

"So the only thing I'm doing tonight is curling up on the couch with my soup and my sweatpants and watching whatever's on."

"What's on?"

"Runaway Bride," Temp answered, digging into her dinner now that it had cooled.

"What channel?"

"TBS," she answered, "wait, you have a television?"

"Of course I have a television," he answered, "why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. It doesn't really match the aesthetic."

"That's why it stays closed up in an armoire until we need to open the doors and use it."

"Why haven't I seen it?" she asked, "I want to be in on the secret TV cupboard."

"You still haven't seen ninety-percent of the sanctum's secrets."

"Then I'll just have to log some more time there," Temp said, unable to help herself. Her smile faded a bit after she said it, remembering that she had decided to keep some distance.

"You will," Stephen agreed. The line was comfortably silent as Temp took another bite of her dinner. Stephen took in a breath before continuing, "so what's Richard Gere's story here?"

"You've never seen Runaway Bride?" she asked, "he's an asshole columnist who's harassing Julia Roberts for a story."

"This sounds personal to you."

"I just don't see the appeal of Richard Gere on the whole."

"Not a fan of older men?" he asked.

"No, I love older men," Temp replied, then backtracked "I mean not old. But older than me. That wouldn't — that doesn't bother me." She continued, grimacing.

Stephen chuckled uncomfortably and changed the subject, commenting on something that was happening on screen. Temperance put her phone on speaker and laid it down, settling in with her feet propped on the coffee table as she ate her soup. For a moment, she had a sense of how surreal it was to be chatting with a sorcerer on the phone about the plot of a romantic comedy, but it lasted only a moment before they settled into a comfortable rapport, and Temperance found herself laughing away the tension of her day.

"Temp," Peter called as he let himself into the apartment.

"Welcome, Peter," Penny said after determining the identity of the visitor.

"Oh, hi," Peter said politely, "Temp, we're gonna be late!"

"I just need, like, two minutes," Temp called from her bedroom. Peter opened the fridge and helped himself to a can of soda, tucking another one into his pants pocket. It fit, but only barely, and with too obvious of a bulge. He glanced around the apartment before noticing Temperance's purse laying on the coffee table. He grabbed it and tossed it open on the kitchen counter, tucking the drink snugly into the bottom. He opened and closed a few other cabinets, foraging for other snacks that would fit in the bag.

"What are you doing? Temp asked when she emerged from her bedroom to see him dumping potato chips into ziploc bags.

"Snacks," he said simply, his eyes wide and innocent.

"We can get snacks at the theater," Temp said.

"They overcharge," Peter said, sealing the snack bags and stuffing them into her purse, "besides, you stock up on this junk food for me anyway. I might as well eat it."

"I do not," Temp said, her face indignant. He raised an eyebrow and she uncrossed her arms. Okay, so maybe she did.

"What's with the hat?" Peter asked. Temp leaned against the arm of the sofa as she pulled her shoes on.

"What's the matter, you've never seen a beanie?"

"Not on you," Peter said. His mouth opened and closed again, and Temp took this to mean that it was out of style, "it's…I like it."

"Okay, well, it was a gift," Temp muttered, scratching her head "don't worry about it."

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, eying her as the hat shifted on her head from her intense scratching, "Do you have lice or something?"

"No, I do not have lice," Temp said, rolling her eyes, "I just have this scalp thing. It's been bothering me all day."

"Did you put something on it?" Peter asked, "You should put something on it."

"I tried putting some hydrocortisone on it this morning, but it mostly ended up in my hair."

"Here, let me help," Peter said, moving toward the bathroom.

"It's fine, Pete," she called, "the movie's starting."

"You'll be scratching the whole time," Peter said, emerging from the bathroom with the tube, "it'll take two seconds. Here, sit down."

Temperance sighed and slid down onto the couch cushions, pulling her hat off. Peter sat on the arm next to her so that he could look down on the top of her head. He twisted the cap off the tube and shifted, leaning forward to take a closer look. When he shifted the part in her hair and exposed the breakout, he jumped up with a yelp, standing on the arm of the couch.

"OH MY GOD," He shouted, his eyes wide.

"Very funny, Peter," Temp growled, placing a hand to her heart. He'd scared the crap out of her. She reached her hands up to touch the red bumps from earlier, but Peter grabbed her fingers, pulling her hands away to keep her from messing with it.

"Peter, what the hell?"

"ME what the hell? How about YOU what the hell?" Peter babbled senselessly, "What happened to your head?"

Temp, sensing now that this wasn't a joke, replied with a high voice, "I don't know, what's wrong with my head?"

"Okay, okay," Pete said, still shouting, "Don't panic."

"I am panicking, because you're yelling! Stop yelling!"

"I'm not yelling!"

"Yes, you are!"

Peter had pulled her up from the couch and was pushing her toward the bathroom. Temp couldn't believe he was so squeamish.

"Just give me the tube, and I'll do it myself," Temp said. When they reached the bathroom, Peter pushed her to the mirror and tipped her head down roughly, "Ow! Easy, Pete!"

He grabbed a small vanity mirror sitting on the counter and held it above her head, tipped downward so that she could get a better view of the rash. Temp froze and then leaned closer to the mirror, pulling her hair aside.

A scream ripped from her mouth, and Peter gave another reactionary shout from behind her.

"Are those…mouths?!"

Temperance pounded on the front door of the sanctum, waiting only ten seconds before pounding again even more insistently. She'd placed the beanie back on her head, and Peter, who stood behind her still looking a bit green, had swung her to Greenwich village.

"Strange, open up!" She called through the door, slapping it with an open palm. The street lights were beginning to come on as the summer light disappeared. She pulled her hand back to hit the door again, but it swung open, revealing a very disgruntled Wong.

"Can I help you?" He asked. Temp pushed past him and into the foyer.

"Stephen?" She called up the stairs. Peter followed her with an awkward and polite nod at Wong, who bristled.

"He can't be in here," Wong told Temperance, pointing at the kid.

"Wong," She said, ignoring him. Wong couldn't tell if she was angry or panicked, or both, "I need to see Stephen right now. Stephen?"

"No need to shout," Stephen said, appearing behind them in his sorcerer supreme get-up. He must have come through a portal from upstairs, "What's wrong?"

Temp whirled around to face him. Her eyes were somehow watery and full of fire at the same time. His heart stuttered, and he stepped closer, repeating himself "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?" Temp said, pulling the beanie off her head, "this has your name written all over it."

Stephen and Wong both crowded close to inspect her head. Their wide-eyed expressions were not reassuring. Stephen's eyebrows furrowed as he examined her. At the crest of her head were several blood-red boils that opened up into dark craters lined with sharp teeth. A couple of them had sprouted from boils into stalks, extending from her head by a couple of inches as they bit and chomped at the air. Temp had placed her hands on her face, her shoulders curled down into herself as if she were trying to get as far away from her own head as possible.

"What is it, Stephen?" She asked impatiently.

"I've never seen this before," he told her honestly, "but we'll figure it out. Come with me."

Stephen opened a portal to the study and guided her through with Wong hot on their heels. Peter poked his head through the portal and cleared his throat, "Mr.—um, Dr. Strange? Am I allowed to come, too?" He asked.

"Yes, Peter," Stephen called over his shoulder without looking back. He and Wong were already pulling down various volumes and thumbing through the pages. Peter hurried to Temp's side and ushered her into a Queen Victoria chair.

"Are they getting bigger? They feel like they're moving," Temp asked him, her voice practically a whimper now.

"Peter, talk to her," Stephen commanded. Peter nodded, kneeling by the chair to look her in the eyes.

"They're fine," he told her, trying not to stare at the creatures protruding from her scalp, "don't think about it. Hey, is that the cloak? The one that's alive?" He asked, gesturing to Stephen's cloak.

Temp nodded.

"What's its name again?"

"I don't think it has a name. It's just, um…the levitation cloak."

"The cloak of levitation," Wong corrected her from across the room.

"Aren't you supposed to be reading?" Temp fired back, squeezing the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles were white. Her eyes were screwed shut as if that would help.

"Temp, don't worry," Stephen said, "we see stuff like this all the time."

"You said you've never seen this before," she reminded him, her tone accusatory.

"Well, yeah. Not this, but stuff like this." He said.

"Stephen," Wong said, rushing to his side with an open book. Temp opened one eye and watched them glance over the page.

"I'm going to try something," Stephen said, taking the book from Wong.

"Try what? What are you going to try?"

"Just relax, Temp," Peter said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Temp closed her eyes again as Stephen began to perform a spell. Her skin began to crawl all over, and she felt a pull at her scalp that wasn't exactly painful, but wasn't comfortable either. She opened her eyes when Peter shouted, only to see him hit the deck next to her chair. A sea of small red, gangly creatures had appeared all around them and sank into the floor out of sight in a matter of seconds. Peter peeked through his arms and unfurled, staring at Temp with wide eyes. Temperance gulped.

"Did those come from my…" she asked quietly as the men all stared at her. She glanced up toward the ceiling to signify that she was talking about her head. The men nodded.

"So," Peter said, standing slowly, "are they…gone?"

"No," Stephen replied, "they're still in the sanctum."

"What are they?" Temp asked. She was too scared to reach up and check the state of her head.

"Looks like they're Mind Maggots," Stephen said, flipping a page in the book he still held, "remember when I told you about interdimensional bacteria? This is like a virus. You must have caught it in Jacob's soulscape."

"So the spell pulled them out of me?"

"Yes, but I need to bring them here again. There's a separate spell here for extinguishing them. I didn't have time to do it before they ran off."

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," Temp said, standing on shaky legs.

"Temp, wait." Stephen said. Temperance didn't like the way he and Wong were looking at her, "We need your help."

"With what?"

"Mind maggots feed on a host's psychic energy. They've been feeding on yours for weeks, growing. We need your psychic energy to draw them back in."

"Okay," Temp said, swallowing, "and what does that entail?"

"I need you to shout your secrets at the top of your lungs," Stephen said.

The room was quiet. Temp exchanged an uncertain look with Peter, "are…are you serious?"

"I know it sounds strange, but your secrets will be like psychic sugar for them. The juicier, the better. They should come running."

Temp looked at Wong, who nodded.

"I can't," Temp said, shifting on her feet.

Wong, who had been making some kind of magic with his hands, tilted his head as if listening for something and turned to Stephen, "they're about to breach the perimeter. If they leave the sanctum, we'll never find them all again."

Temp set her jaw, turning to Peter, "Peter, go. I don't want you here when they come back."

"Are you kidding?" Peter said, "I'm not missing this."

Temp turned to look at Stephen, and, with a flick of his wrist, he opened a portal under Peter's feet and the boy disappeared into it, presumably falling somewhere safe.

"Temp, now." Stephen said, his dark expression emphasizing the severity of the situation. Temp swallowed and straightened her back, gathering up whatever was left of her pride.

"I used my ability to get out of a parking ticket," she shouted, "It was only one time, and I had been having a really shitty day, but I lost sleep over it for days."

There was a pregnant silence in the room, and Temp felt shame bloom in her stomach as her words settled. Stephen gave her an encouraging nod, "Keep going."

"I voted for J. Jonah Jameson for mayor," she shouted, wincing.

"Sometimes I think I don't have an identity separate from the Avengers, and it terrifies me, because I don't know who I am now that it's over," she tried again, focusing on Stephen's nods and gestures for her to continue, "I'm also terrified that I'm forgetting the sound of my Dad's voice."

"They're coming," Wong announced, opening the study doors. Temp let out a long, shaky breath to steel herself. It was almost over.

"I swear up and down that I've never slept with another Avenger, but it's not true. I did one time," she shouted. She had never told anyone about that. The creatures had begun to appear in the hallway, but they hesitated at the door. Bile rose into Temperance's throat as she looked at the hideous parasites, knowing that they had been inside her head — inside her mind. She wanted them dead.

Temperance inhaled deeply and prepared to lay herself bare.