A/N: It took longer than I anticipated to get this out but here it finally is. Things are heating up. The dreams point the way. It's time to take the fight to Dormammu.
Stephen liked to keep busy. A good day usually meant vanquishing a demon or two, aiding with repairs and teaching at Kamar-Taj, keeping up with the latest in medical research and occasionally consulting on a case, and an evening spent immersed in magical research. It kept him sharp but most of all, it kept him from the thoughts that plagued him during quieter times. Times when his friends told him to stop and rest, times when disquieting thoughts caught him.
The time loops had given him centuries of memories of pain. It was a rare night when he didn't wonder what if he'd gone left instead of right, saved a life and doomed another. And sometimes he woke not knowing if any of this was real, if he was still in the loop. Sometimes, after a vivid dream, he wondered whether he wasn't still dreaming now. Maybe the darkest version of him was who he truly was and his time here was nothing more than a glimpse into a life that was never his.
Yeah, it was way better to keep busy.
"Hey, you okay?" America nudged him with an elbow. "You've been, like, really quiet this whole time."
"Fine. I'm fine." Stephen stuffed his hands into his jacket, the Cloak's chosen disguise for the time being. Ahead of them, Bats trotted, sniffing everything and greeting strangers and generally having a good time.
"The guy who killed me in my dream? It was you." He couldn't escape the fact that an evil version of himself was out there, working directly for Dormammu. A Stephen who had sold his soul for power, betrayed and murdered the Ancient One, and killed the Avengers one by one. And he knew, he really did, that he was not that other him. That his destiny was his own and for all his variants' similarities, there were such stark differences. But it was hard not to feel guilt and apprehension. His variants had dream walked and betrayed his friends and succumbed to the temptations of darkness. He hadn't seen a single version that was just…good. And though the sample pool was infinitesimally small, it still made him feel uneasy.
"So I was thinking game night," America said. "You know, to ease the tension of the whole apocalyptic Dormammu thing. Just for the night. I saw those board games you keep in the basement. We could play Sorry or Risk. Other Steven found Twister which I was not expecting but would definitely like to see you try."
"Steven's been going through my basement?"
"He helped me pick games."
"Alright. Fine. As long as he stays away from the artifacts.* But I still have a lot of work to do. Why don't you invite Peter?"
"I will, but come on. It'll be extra fun if you join us."
Stephen stopped walking. "Are you and Bats conspiring to keep me from my work?" That was the last thing he needed.
"Pfft, no," America said, seeming very conspiring. "But I happen to know for a fact that you astral projected the last three nights which can't be good for your health."
"And playing board games is supposed to help, is it?"
"See Stephen, you're this thing they call a workaholic.'
Stephen scoffed. It was times like these he missed having the Sanctum to himself. He'd rather work his way into his grave in peace, thanks.
"But don't worry, there's totally a cure," America went on. "I read about it on the internet. It's this thing called relaxation."
"And you went there," Stephen said. "Look, I get that you're worried, but you don't need to be. Keeping busy is…it's something I've always done. The sooner I find out where Dormammu's headed, the sooner we can end this." And fix the mess he'd started. "Maybe I'll play a game or two tonight."
Bats started barking but it wasn't the usual warning bark he gave the squirrels in the park. This one was an alarm and instantly grabbed Stephen's attention.
The air seemed to rip and peel back like tissue paper, giving way to a purple void, a place that was forever ingrained in Stephen's memory. Out of the Dark Dimension, two figures emerged. Stephen's gaze immediately fixed on Clea, and the bloody bandage wrapped around her arm. She was leaning against the second figure for support. Wait, wasn't that Natasha Romanoff? No time to question it.
"What happened?" Stephen asked, taking stock. Injury to the arm, that was obvious. She was still on her feet. Breathing hard and clutching her side more out of physical strain than injury, he thought. There was a bruise across her face and a cut on her lip.
"Ran into the Mindless Ones several universes over," Clea replied, straightening a little against Natasha's grip.
"We should get you to a hospital."
"No, I'll be fine."
Stephen hadn't known Clea for long but she was a hard woman to argue with. "The Sanctum, then. I want to take a look at that wound."
They made an odd group trekking back to the Sanctum and earned themselves plenty of stares from passersby. When they reached the Sanctum, the door opened readily to admit them and Stephen veered them toward the sitting room.
"Whoa. Who is that? What happened?" Peter jumped up from his seat.
"Peter, there's a first aid kit in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. Would you mind getting it?" Stephen said as Clea sunk into a chair. Now that the initial shock of her sudden appearance had worn off, she didn't look as bad as she had at first. Mostly she just looked tired. "Miss El-Faouly, will you please go with him and grab a glass of water?"
Layla didn't question it, simply got up and followed Peter's lead, though she seemed the calmer of the two. That just left America and Steven to watch, aghast.
"I'm perfectly fine," Clea said and immediately winced, proving herself wrong. "We don't have time for this. We need to go after Dormammu now, before it's too late."
"I've been working on that," Stephen said. "I set up a spell to track his movements. Where have you been this whole time?"
"I tried getting his attention," Clea replied. "I thought I could get him to reveal his plan to me."
Stephen paused. "What makes you think he'd tell you?"
"We might be estranged, but he is my uncle."
Stephen's brain short-circuited. "What?"
"Bloody hell!" Steven blurted.
Clea looked between the three of them. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Stephen snapped out of it. "No. No, of course not." He returned his attention to the blood-soaked rag around her arm. "You're not your family."
Stephen might not be a practicing surgeon anymore, but he still knew how to deal with injuries. His knowledge came in quite handy in his new line of work. With Clea's permission, he unwrapped the wound, careful not to jostle in and cause any unnecessary pain.
Peter and Layla returned with their items. Stephen took the first aid box from Peter while Clea accepted the water gratefully.
"Is anyone going to explain what's going on?" Layla's eyes flickered to everyone in the group.
"Well, after I failed to talk Dormammu out of multiversal conquest, I was attacked by a horde of Mindless Ones. I probably wouldn't have escaped if not for Nat here."
Natasha shrugged. "Eh, you had it covered."
Clea smiled briefly as if at an inside joke only the two of them shared.
"You're going to need stitches," Stephen informed her. The wound was a single deep slash and nearly two inches long across the bicep."
"Figured as much."
Stephen knew how to stitch a wound closed as easily as he knew how to tie his own shoes. So easily in fact that he grabbed for the medical thread, needle, and rubbing alcohol before he realized precisely what he was doing. His scars stood out palely along his fingers. At the moment, their trembling was virtually nonexistent but that could change. The pain came and went, along with the shakes and the muscle spasms. Truth was, his hands had once been his greatest tool but now he could no longer trust them.
"I've got it," Marc said.
Stephen was used to being the one in charge. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Stitched up quite a few wounds in my day."
Stephen relented, handing over the box of supplies, and let him get to work.
"Dormammu's dying," Clea said.
Stephen cocked his head. "How?"
"I don't know. All I know is he's not as powerful as he used to be. What he's doing now isn't just a matter of conquest, it's a matter of survival."
"That explains why he's looking for a new body."
"Is he?" Clea winced as Marc worked on her wound. "How do you know?"
"He told me."
"What? Why? I couldn't get anything out of him."
"He wanted me to help him." It's possible because of you. "He's either delusional or he didn't learn anything from our bargain."
"Or he's messing with you," Clea said. "Trying to get inside your head. He'll try and use you and you won't even realize it until it's happened."
"Well we don't have very many options. I'm using a spell to track his movement throughout the multiverse. If I can pinpoint where he's headed, we can beat him there. And if he truly is weak and dying, we might just have a chance of stopping him. Permanently this time." For the first time since discovering Dormammu's disappearance, he felt like they were actually close to winning this thing. Truth be told, he'd gone over dozens of strategies and plans for taking out Dormammu once they found him. It wouldn't be enough just to destroy his Mindless Ones; they had to go straight to the power source, Dormammu himself. And this time Stephen didn't have anything to bargain with. He hadn't lied when he'd told Wong the mission wouldn't be dangerous at first. But once they entered into the confrontation, things would get dicey. That's where the Avengers would really shine.
"That should do it," Marc said when he was done. "At least until you tear the stitches in this fight we're going to have."
"You'd better hold onto the first aid kit then," Clea said, grabbing her jacket from Natasha. "But thanks."
A door opened and closed in the next room and footsteps heralded new arrivals. Stephen still couldn't get used to how crowded the Sanctum felt as of late. With his new dreamcatcher spell active, non-sorcerers were coming and going all the time, it seemed. No doubt someone else had a new dream to report to him, adding yet another point on his multiversal map.
And he was right as the first person into the sitting room was Miss Bishop. She carried her archery bag over one shoulder and her dream journal under her arm. Following closely was Wong and a few steps behind him, Clint. All three of them froze for a moment, Kate and Wong no doubt taken by surprise at Clea's appearance. Only Clint wasn't looking at her, his gaze instead riveted on Natasha.
Stephen had gotten to know both of them through the time loops in his quest for victory over Thanos. He'd seen them fight side by side and he'd seen them die. He'd seen them live. He'd seen futures in which Clint beat Natasha to the cliff's edge on Vormir and fell so that she could live. Perhaps that was the universe this Natasha came from for she returned the same stunned look Clint gave to her.
"Nat?" Clint's voice cracked fractionally and suddenly Stephen wished to be anywhere else, feeling like an intruder on this moment.
Natasha watched him cautiously and then she said, "Your hair's different." Clint looked like he wanted to cry but held himself in check.
"You're from one of those other universes, aren't you?"
"If you could call it that," Natasha said. "It's not really worth living in anymore." Her eyes looked a little teary too.
Clint let out a shaky breath. "Tell me about it."
After a moment of silence in which no one seemed to know what to say, Wong gave Kate a nudge. "You should tell him what you told me.'
"Oh. Right." Kate swallowed as eyes fell on her. "I have a dream to add to your spell. In it, we won," she said, enthusiasm lighting her features. "We won."
After a wave of dreams involving death and overwhelming odds, it was the first ray of hope. Stephen didn't just think they could win this fight now. He knew they could.
Moments later, Stephen busily added Kate's dream to the spell while the others watched in curiosity and awe.
"This is astounding," Clea said. "This spellcraft is unlike anything I've ever seen. Mapping the multiverse." She cracked a smile.
"Only a small part," Stephen pointed out. Mapping the whole thing would be mapping infinity. Impossible.
"It's still impressive. How did you pinpoint these locations?" She pointed at the clusters of pulsing lights.
Stephen knotted Kate's dream and watched it settle into place. "If you assume each universe can be said to have a physical location, you can assume like universes sit next to like. This universe – Earth 616 – sits right here in the center. The closer a universe is to our own regarding physical laws and variables of culture, history, etc., the closer it sits to the center. Bizzarro world sits the furthest away. There are…a lot of variables." Which was why he spent so much time with the dreamcatcher and spent more nights than not astral projecting for advanced research purposes.
"Okay. They're not dreams, but I have some things to add," Clea said. "Places I've been that might help out."
"Perfect."
She described to him far off familiar places and alien wars and a world where Dormammu was worshipped by entire civilizations. She'd nearly been killed there by the Mindless Ones and their god-priest and only Natasha's timely distraction had given her the space to escape but not without injury.
"Aren't you worried all this universe hopping is going to cause a, what did you call it? An incursion?" Layla asked.
"It's not so easy," Clea replied. "You don't cause an incursion just by crossing a border. Otherwise we'd all be in danger. Natasha leaving her universe, even America punching holes through the veil that separates universes, that's not enough to create an incursion. To do that, you need something big. Like routine dream walking over a period of time. Continuous movement between two universes."
"Or Dormammu telepathically controlling his web of followers across a swath of universes," Stephen added.
"Yes. And ultimately that's what we're here to prevent."
"But he's not just going back and forth between two universes," America said. "It's more like twenty."
"Or more," Clea said. "If he causes an incursion, it would be catastrophic."
"He won't get that far." Stephen placed the last of Clea's leads into the dreamcatcher. What he had now was a constellation of dreams all expanding out from Earth 616. But it wasn't random. The stars followed a gentle curve, carving a path that they were meant to follow.
"He's weak so he's been using the bodies of his followers to move from universe to universe."
"They're like his avatars," Marc said.
"Precisely. And it tracks. The first dream here was yours." He pointed at one of the glowing beads. "Then the second dream, the universe next door. Scott's. Then yours again. Then Shang-Chi's, then Thor's, then mine." He pointed at each bead in turn, getting farther along the path. "He's spreading like a wave, using his followers or avatars like launching pads to get to the next."
"He's too weak to travel in physical form," Clea said. "If I'm right, manifesting physically inside a universe could be enough to finish him off."
"So he'll only do it at the last second," Stephen concluded. "When he has his new body in sight. That's what we stop him from getting. And if the dreams point the way, then the place he wants is… here." Stephen pointed at a section of the dreamcatcher where the final points of the map converged. "He's heading here."
"You sure about that?" Clea asked.
Stephen met her gaze. "Positive. We need to gather everyone. It's time."
As Wong left to get the others, Stephen stepped into pre-battle mode. He had prepared some protection spells for everyone and started handing them out.
"You can't go," Marc protested when Stephen handed one to Layla.
"I can handle it, Marc. If you thought I'd let you go off without me again, you must not know me that well. Alright, spell me."
"I know you can, but this isn't exactly our level kind of stuff."
"If you didn't want me coming, you shouldn't have called."
"If I'd known you were still buddies with Tawaret, I wouldn't have."
"You're part of the distraction phase," Stephen said, moving on to Clint and Kate. "I'm placing a replication spell on your quivers. You won't run out of arrows as long as it's active."
"So cool," Kate said.
"Is Wong correct? Is there a battle to be had?" the booming voice announced Thor's arrival in the Sanctum. He was accompanied by the scary child, Love, who wielded Stormbreaker easily despite its comically large size.
"You're bringing your kid to fight a giant cosmic monster?" Scott asked.
"Stephen's bringing his kids," Thor pointed out.
"They're not my… oh never mind." Stephen took a steadying breath. "Listen. Here's how it's going to work." He waited until he had everyone's attention before continuing. "America's going to open the portal for us. Once there, Clint, Kate, Scott, Natasha, Marc, and Peter make up the distraction force. Your job is to take out any Mindless Ones you see and draw Dormammu's attention. Clea and Layla, your job is to locate Dormammu's chosen host body and get him or her out of there. If need be, America can send you to another universe and then come back for the rest of us afterward. Thor and Shang-Chi, you're with me. Our job will be to overpower and bind Dormammu once he manifests himself. If he doesn't show right away, we may need to use the host as bait. But if he is in fact dying, hopefully the combined power of my sealing spell, Thor's thunder, and Shang-Chi's rings will be enough to subdue him. Is everyone clear on the plan?"
Nods all around. A few nervous looks but that was to be expected. They were doing this.
"Good luck everyone," Wong said. "If worse comes to worst, retreat here. I've reinforced the Sanctum's wards. It can be our fortress if need be."
"But please come back safe," Bats said.
"We will," Stephen replied. "This ends here. Today. America, you ready?"
America, who'd been linked to their destination and knew the way, nodded.
"Then let's go."
America took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and punched a hole in the fabric of reality.
Weapons ready and magic sizzling among them, the heroes stepped into the portal and were yanked along into the unknown. The trip was a heartbeat and a dunk in freezing water and the sound of cosmic radiation and then they were there.
Stephen summoned his shields. Clint and Kate readied their bows and moved into position. Lightning crackled along the surface of Mjolnir and Love's Stormbreaker. Waves of energy radiated from Shang-Chi's rings and Clea drew her sword.
Silence met their assault on this universe. The silence of a dead and forgotten place. Light with no light source bent through violet crystal prisms at their feet.
"Did we beat him here?" Peter asked. "I'm not sensing…anything."
Neither did Stephen. This place was made of shadows and fragmented, mirrored surfaces.
"What is this place?" Thor asked.
"Stay sharp," Clea said. Her voice echoed. "Be ready for anything."
A chill went through Stephen. This didn't feel right. The very air of this place was stale and he couldn't see the sky or begin to guess at what kind of place they'd landed.
Without warning, shadowy tentacles shot up from the floor and wrapped around America. She screamed as they pulled her off her feet.
"America!" Stephen changed his stance and prepared a spell to sever the tentacles holding her but more of them sprang up and wrapped around his arms and hands, keeping him from forming the gestures.
All around them, the tentacles emerged from the floor, twining around limbs and grabbing weapons. Stephen's protective spells flared gold in response, keeping everyone safe but unable to protect them from being dragged down.
"It's an ambush!" Layla hacked away at the tentacles reaching for her with her sword, sending out a spray of black ichor, but more and more came for her, overwhelming her.
Thor screamed a war cry of primal fury and lightning shot from Mjolnir, incinerating a dozen of the reaching tendrils.
Stephen struggled against their hold. More wrapped around his legs and dragged him to the ground. Another found its way across his throat, throwing up golden sparks from his spells. No.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no." Peter dodged and flipped over the attacking appendages but there was nowhere for him to anchor his webs to. A tentacle grabbed him by the hand and yanked him off his feet.
"Layla!" Marc reached for Layla but they were pulled apart and buried underneath the writhing masses.
Love went absolutely feral, swinging Stormbreaker and cleaving through the tentacles, spraying ichor everywhere. Energy beams shot from her eyes, but even that wasn't enough. When they finally wrapped around her arms, she resorted to biting them.
"Dormammu!" Thor screamed, smashing Mjolnir against the ground but no matter how many tentacles he destroyed, more took their place. One took him by the throat and others grabbed for his arms.
How could things go so wrong so quickly? Stephen kicked and tried moving his hands, but the tentacles were too strong. One pressed against his throat, making it hard to breathe. All around him, the others struggled and flailed to no avail. Shang-chi's arms were completely covered, Clea was on her knees, and Love was hardly visible, wrapped in her own black, writhing cocoon.
In one fell swoop, it was over before it had even begun.
"Show yourself, coward!" Thor screamed.
And yet, this magic…it didn't feel like something from Dormammu. It felt oddly familiar, like something he'd read about a long time ago.
"Someone's here," Peter said.
Something moved within the shadows, something made of monstrous shapes and many eyes.
"Who are you?" a familiar voice called and Stephen's heart sank as the figure stepped into the light. "And how the hell did you get in here?"
*See A Haunting on Bleecker Street
