Wong notices it not long after the events in Hong Kong. Roughly three weeks later, he visits the Sanctum to inquire about Strange's latest findings about the sudden uptake in vampiric incidents. Their companionship has progressed well by this point, mainly due to a mutual understanding after witnessing the near destruction of their world. The friendly banter is a welcome apparatus for conversation.
The recently appointed Master of the New York Sanctum is stood by the window of the sanctuary, staring out through the seal of the Vishanti. It is not a common sight to see; Strange is rarely seen without books or deep meditation or, Wong notices in mild surprise, without the Cloak of Levitation. The fickle relic rarely leaves its chosen's side, exhibiting a protectiveness that have left many a creature hung out to dry.
"Strange?" He calls out from below the steps, and frowns even deeper when he is not acknowledged. The other man remains still, seemingly unaware of the world around him. Now Wong is an experienced Master, he is aware of certain practices that accomplish precisely being detached to the world. But they are never practiced in front of a window, standing, and eerily still.
He walks up the steps, slowing to a tentative gait of a cat as he reaches the top. "Strange. Can you hear me?"
The first wave of concern reaches him when he is not provided with any sort of response. Wong looks around the immediate vicinity. There is no sign of the Cloak, and he wonders whether he should act further without its express approval. Vishanti know the relic would topple him over for even startling the other sorcerer.
It is not here though, therefore he is free to act on his concerns. He considers gently shaking Strange's shoulder from behind but then abandons the thought as soon as it comes to him. Becoming aware to a touch one didn't know was friend or foe wasn't something he wished on anyone, particularly not in their line of work. Instead, he strides forward to stand beside the man, and that is the first time he sees his eyes.
They are a glowing green, the normal shades of blue absent, reflecting slightly off the window. Strange's hands are cradling the Eye of Agamotto, closed yet clearly influencing him. He still does not even seem to notice Wong, either lost or trapped in whatever the Time Stone has dragged him into.
"Strange? Snap out of it." Wong does not mean to say it so sharply – the concern morphs into panic, which bleeds through his voice in the best way it knows how. A hand automatically settles on Strange's shoulder, grip firm and intended to ground. The sorcerer remains in his jade trance, and Wong briefly considers plucking the necklace off him.
"Dormammu, I've come to bargain."
Wong freezes, the words processing several moments longer than they should, and his heart sinks. He puts together the scene – Stephen disconnected from the world, the aggressive green glow emanating from his eyes, hands that held the Eye like it was his salvation, the simple phrase he has uttered like a mantra – and understands.
Stephen never revealed what exactly happened in the Dark Dimension, despite curious and insistent questions from the Masters, simply citing that the Time Stone was to thank for their continued existence and future safety. Dormammu agreed to a 'bargain' and would never come back to Earth, end of story. Perhaps, Wong realizes, they should have pushed for more. He should have pushed for more.
Mordo was right, after all. There were consequences to every kind of power, prices to pay. This was the Time Stone's.
Wong was well-read in the assortment of books in Kamar-Taj, driven by the desire to never lack in knowledge. One never knew when any piece of information could be useful during an excursion, no matter how insignificant. Naturally, he made it his job to read through the Sorcerer Supreme's private collection after the events in Hong Kong. Earth did not have an all-powerful mystical defender anymore, so it was up to all the Masters to step up and acquire all knowledge possible.
The Book of Cagliostro did not only provide the steps on how to use the Time Stone or the ways in which it could be used, it also provided countermeasures. Specifically for a soul unfortunate enough to get caught in a time loop.
Wong is quick to work. Someone trapped in a time loop has lost all sense of the world they are physically inhabiting, their mind and soul bound to the singular moment they performed the spell in. Pushing their astral form out is dangerous as it runs the risk of overwhelming their brain. A sudden shift in head space combined with an out-of-body existence can serve to worsen the transition back to reality, potentially causing permanent damage to the psyche.
The other, safer way is more hit or miss. Sharing dimensional magic with another is usually applied in the healing arts, closing wounds or rearranging bones. The addition of a foreign yet familiar presence within the physical body, if it is strong enough, can restore the soul's connection to reality. Abstractly, the chain binding the spirit to the conditioned expectation of the brain is severed, and the individual's awareness returns relatively unharmed. After a few minutes of disorientation, they are back to normal.
Wong closes his eyes and focuses inward, feeling the warm magic drawn from benevolent dimensions connecting to him. He welcomes it and draws it up the arm into the hand resting on his friend's shoulder. He inhales as the magic is introduced to the new soul, present but lost, and he feels it naturally flow towards the cold cocoon. For a few brief moments, he feels Stephen himself – his soul – and he understands why the Cloak has chosen him, why the Ancient One had such faith in him.
Even disconnected from the physical reality, it burns bright, swirling in warm fire amidst the darkness. He can feel it fighting despite the prison the mind has constructed in its moment of confusion. The moments end abruptly, and Wong's eyes open with a sudden jolt.
He sees the green glow fade from Stephen's eyes, the familiar blue-green orbs transitioning back to reality. The sorcerer breathes heavily, and Wong squeezes his shoulder in some semblance of grounding, of comfort. The Vishanti know he deserves it.
"Ah, crap." Stephen brings a shaking hand up to his head, slowly adjusting to his return to reality. He does not protest as Wong guides him towards the nearest chair at the edge of the roomful of relics on display. He sinks into the chair boneless, and finally the familiar blur of red comes flapping and fluttering from the hallway. The Cloak spares not a glance towards Wong as it settles around its chosen in a gentle swoop, collars caressing his cheeks.
"I'm fine, I'm alright." Stephen calms his breathing, running a hand along the flaps of the Cloak, and Wong wonders how many times the relic has seen him like this, how many times it has pulled him out of his trance. It was there with Stephen, and Wong takes some solace in the knowledge that at least the man was not alone. He feels a pang shoot his heart.
"Sorry about that."
Wong does not need any cue to know he is being addressed. He is not one to indulge in any kind of pity, be it self or for others. Life has its trials for everyone, no good comes from wallowing in the world of 'what-ifs' or 'unfairness'. He is therefore the perfect person to witness such a vulnerable moment.
"There is no need to face this alone, Stephen." It is one of the few times he verbally addresses the man by his given name, and Stephen is equally surprised to hear it. "The world may never know what you have endured, that does not mean we must not either."
Stephen swallows thickly as the Cloak curls further around him, eyes slightly wide as if in realization. Wong lets a rare smile slip through, one that solidifies their close companionship in the years to come, and decides this is enough for now. Stephen does not respond, or call for him to elaborate, and he feels they have reached the same wordless conclusion.
The Ancient One may be departed from the world, but they are just as capable of stepping forward into her lone role, together.