Chapter Two: Forgotten Memories

"No!" America protested. "No way, I am NOT doing that!" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Willing engage with the same witch that had chased her across the multiverse and tried to kill her? "I'll stay awake forever if I have to!" America felt rejuvenated by a goodnight's sleep; she could go another week without sleep if need be.

Strange rolled his eyes. "You can't stay awake forever, America," Stephen reflected on the conversation with Wanda. It wasn't a place he'd been; he was sure of that. It hadn't felt like a dream, not entirely. He could still recall the feeling of the sun and wind on his face and the scent of the sea. "I don't think she'll come back unless you want her to," Stephen almost smacked himself for the word want. America wouldn't want to see the woman again, obviously.

America raised a brow. "What makes you say that?" She asked.

"Wanda told me she'll understand if you won't speak to her. But, I think," Again, the sorcerer thought of that place. That endless ocean of calm, blue water. Was she trapped in the border between this world and the next? "I think she's doing her best to make things right so she can move on," Stephen wasn't sure he believed in heaven, but it was as good a theory as he had.

"What? Like she needs my forgiveness?" America scoffed, and Stephen shrugged his response. "No," She shook her head, the memories of being hunted still fresh in her mind. "I don't owe her forgiveness, not after everything she did," Stephen wouldn't argue that point; America DIDN'T owe the woman who terrorized her anything, least of all, forgiveness.

"You're right, you don't," He conceded, opening a portal back to the New York sanctum. "But forgiveness may be best for you as well, kid," She looked less than convinced. "Just think about it, alright?" America nodded, but Strange wasn't sure she would. The older sorcerer stepped through the doorway and left America alone, still thinking of the Scarlet Witch.

"Forgiveness," Again, America scoffed at the thought. "Why should I care if she's stuck in limbo or whatever? It's what she deserves!" America thought, but a second, quieter voice chimed in. "Do you really believe that?" She chose to ignore that voice.

As for Stephen, his mind was almost solely on the Spider-Man; he'd been with him on Titan, battling Thanos. And they'd been together just months earlier, fighting beings from across the multiverse. He'd died with him 14,000,604 times, so why couldn't he remember him? He focused on the memories but drew nothing but a mask and an unfamiliar voice. A tear dripped out onto his cheek, and he brushed it away. He felt overwhelmed by a feeling he couldn't explain. "Why can't I remember you?" Stephen hadn't meant to think about the Spider-Man when talking to Wanda. The vigilante had just sort of come into his mind, and now he couldn't get the mask out of his head. "They're here because of YOU!" A flash of a memory, the very universe was cracking open, and silhouettes were coming forth.

Stephen wandered into his study and practically collapsed into his chair. "Who are you...?" He said aloud, rubbing his temples. Could it be possible that they'd spent so much time together and Spider-Man had never revealed his identity? It was possible but felt unlikely. And that wouldn't explain the gaps in the memories or that feeling in his chest. An idea suddenly popped into Strange's mind. "Wanda."


Wanda sat in the sand, waiting and hoping to feel America's presence. She wasn't sure what she would say exactly, only that she knew she had to say SOMETHING to the girl. Time passed differently for Wanda and the strange world she found herself in; hours felt like minutes, but still, she found the waiting exceedingly tiresome. And very, very lonely.
Then she felt it, the pull and the presence of another person. The witch waited, expecting the weather to worsen with America's arrival. "Oh..." Wanda said aloud, sensing Stephen instead.

"Stephen," She stood and greeted. "I suppose America doesn't wish to see me again." Wanda had figured as much but felt a tinge of disappointment at not being able to right that wrong.

The man, who seemed unsettled to her, nodded slightly. "She'll come around," He hoped he was right, but they both doubted it. The witch waited for Stephen to speak, sensing he was there for a reason. "Look, Wanda, I uh," He paused, that feeling of heartache was more pronounced here, and Wanda could feel it. "Spider-Man," Strange said suddenly, and Wanda raised a brow. "Do you remember him?" She nodded. "Then who was he?" Wanda opened her mouth, then closed it as she thought back on him.
The Spider-Man had been in Germany and then during the final battle against Thanos. Had he been at Tony's funeral? She didn't think so, but it felt strange that he WOULDN'T have been there.

"You can't remember him either, can you?" Stephen asked, interrupting her thoughts. "I was wondering if you could look into my mind to see why I feel-" The sorcerer paused, a hand involuntarily gestured toward his heart. "Why I feel this way," The feeling hadn't been there until he tried to recall the wall-crawler while with Wanda. It only made sense to him that Wanda may be able to help him get to the bottom of it.

"Stephen..." Wanda cringed at the thought. "I'd really rather not," The last time she'd been inside someone else's head, she'd killed them.

"Wanda, please...!?" Something in the way his voice cracked made her relent. She approached Stephen and reached her hands toward his face, fingers stopping before they reached his temples. The older man nodded, and she pressed her hands to each temple. The memories flooded in immediately, nearly catching her off guard with the sudden flood of Stephen's emotions.

Titan came first before Thanos snapped his fingers; nothing about Spider-Man stood out except for how childish his attacks on Thanos had seemed. Then it was after they'd been brought back. "It's been five years! Come on, they need us," Wanda tried to focus on who he was talking to, but his face was... it wasn't there, as if that part of the memory didn't exist.

"I can't-"

"You can! Keep going," Wanda continued, working her way through them. A memory of the sanctum, but who Strange had been talking to wasn't clear. Only that Wong was against whatever they'd been discussing.

"That spell travels the dark borders between known and unknown realities; it's too dangerous," Wong, ever the responsible one, argued against whatever Strange had been talking about. She pressed on.

It was the statue of liberty, and the universe was tearing apart at the seam and drawing in being from across the multiverse. "They're starting to come through, and I can't stop them," Stephen was struggling to hold the beings back. "They're here because of YOU!" Another gap, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see who Strange was speaking to. But one thing made it through, along with a wave of what she could describe as heartbreak. "So long, kid..." The witch released the sorcerer and recoiled from him. The heartache had hit her the way it had hit Stephen, and she quickly wiped the tear away from her cheek.

"Stephen, I can't," Wanda's voice trailed off; she couldn't see what didn't exist. It was as if certain parts of the memories had been stripped away, leaving only the emotion behind etched into his soul. It was a feeling Wanda was all too familiar with: losing a loved one. "Whatever it is you hope to find, only Spider-Man can help you," Wanda said, but for some reason, she got the feeling that Spider-Man wouldn't want to talk about their shared history. Stephen vanished from the world as he appeared, leaving her alone again.

Stephen woke in his chair where he'd forced himself to sleep, with even more questions and no answers. He'd have to track down the web-slinger. "I guess that probably won't be that difficult." Stephen chuckled to himself.

The next night, just as Stephen was about to set out to search for Spider-Man, a portal opened and out stepped America. "Hey, Stephen," The traveler greeted, looking far more rested than the last time he'd seen her.

"Hey, kid," He returned the greeting, hiding his annoyance with her dropping in. Usually, he'd have no issues with it at all, but at that moment, he had other things to attend to. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, glancing at his watch.

"Rest day," She shrugged, not noticing his eagerness to leave. "Figured I'd spend it with you," Stephen rubbed his forehead, and America frowned. "Is that... A problem...?" The girl asked hesitantly.

"No, it's just I have something I need to discuss with Spider-Man-"

"Oh!" America's eyes widened at the mention of Spider-Man. "Can I come? I saw some of his stuff and wanted to meet him!" Her child-like excitement bubbled up to the surface, and Stephen couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Alright, come on." He waved for the girl to follow him. The pair set off into the New York night, where Stephen hoped to find answers. "But, this is important, so let me do the talking,"


Peter swung from building to building, little more than a red and white blur in the night sky. The night was warm and humid, and the suit clung uncomfortably to his skin, but he pressed on. The scanner had been quiet for most of the night, just a few car break-ins and a robbery that the police had handled by the time he arrived.
He considered calling it a night; working two jobs and crime-fighting on the side had left him perpetually exhausted.

"You can't call it a night. You still need a few pictures, or Jameson will fire you," He reminded himself as he came to a rest on top of an office tower. Peter closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and suddenly felt something approaching him fast. The spider turned and spotted the familiar red cape as Stephen dropped down to the roof. The sorcerer was flanked by a girl Peter didn't recognize, who looked rather excited.

America waited for one of them to speak, but they didn't. Both men stood silently, waiting for the other to speak first—much to America's annoyance. She thought he looked kind of... Funny, with his red and blue costume and almost comically oversized white eye lenses. He didn't look anything like a spider.
"Do the webs come out of your butt?" America blurted out suddenly, tired of their staring contest.

"America!" Stephen scolded.

"Uh... no... They don't..." Something about the boy's voice snapped Stephen out of the trance he'd felt like he was in. And yes, Stephen was sure he was a boy, not a man.

"Why can't I remember you?" Stephen asked, taking a few steps closer to the red and blue-clad hero.

Peter let out a long sigh, taking a few steps back in response to Stephen's approach. "It's a long story," He took another step back toward the ledge.

"I have time," Stephen said with a humorless chuckle. He took a smaller step forward, and again, Spider-Man took a step back. America watched them silently, reminded of her meeting with Wanda.

"That's great, but I don't," He said, shaking his head.

"Please, I need to know why it is that I can't remember-"

"No, Stephen, you don't," Being called by his first name felt odd, but he wasn't sure why. "It was good to see you again. Really. But I have to go," To Peter's surprise, it was nice to see the sorcerer again. But that feeling was overshadowed by the emotions dredged up by seeing him.

"You have to tell me-" America caught Stephen by the arm before he could continue, and their eyes locked.

"You can't force him to talk to you," Strange opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. She was right, and all he could do was nod his head in agreement.

Peter paused and watched them curiously. Based on the robes she wore, she was a sorcerer of some kind, but he'd never seen her at the Sanctum. A recruit, maybe? Strange returned his eyes to Peter, ending his thoughts of the girl. "You don't remember me because you're not SUPPOSED to remember me," Peter sighed a little at how defeated the man he'd once called a friend looked. "Some things are better left in the past," Peter backflipped off the ledge and was gone into the night.

It took Stephen a few moments to process what he'd said, and even when he did, he didn't understand it. Stephen sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. Perhaps he never would, but maybe the kid was right; some things are better left in the past. He turned his attention back to America. "Thank you," Strange knew without her intervention, he'd have tried to force the vigilantly to reveal what he knew.

America smiled. She'd half expected him to be angry with her. "You're welcome," While she was relieved that he wasn't, it wasn't what her mind was thinking of. Instead, she couldn't seem to get the Scarlet Witch out of her head.
They went back to the Sanctum in silence, said quick goodbyes, and returned to Kamar-Taj. It was still morning when America returned to Kamar-Taj, but the girl decided that when she slept, she would visit the Scarlet Witch.


Peter climbed through his window into his sweltering apartment, yanked off his mask, and threw it across the room. He collapsed into his desk chair; he hadn't felt so low since Christmas, his first one alone. The spiderling had suppressed the pain of all that he'd lost for months, not daring to think of it. But now, it was all he could think of.
The young hero reached into his desk drawer and retrieved the picture he kept there. It had been of him and May at the Zoo when he was 10, but now it was just May, her arm wrapped around someone that wasn't there.

"I miss you, May..." Peter said aloud, trying and failing to swallow the lump in his throat. He set the picture down and wiped his eyes, his mind venturing to the other Peter's, his... brothers. Neither of them had seemed happy, and the boy couldn't help but wonder if that was their curse. Could the price they'd all paid for their gifts be happiness? Surely there was a universe where he was happy, one where he and Mj could be together, and May was alive. He had trouble picturing what happiness would even look like anymore. Peter climbed on top of his bed, let out a shuddering breath, and tried to shake off the thoughts. But he couldn't; the crushing loneliness he had suppressed returned, and he was powerless to fight it.


Endless sunshine and beautiful weather had worn out its welcome with Wanda faster than she thought it would. But still, she tried to enjoy it as she lay with her eyes closed. After all, she could have ended up in worse places; if it were up to America, she'd probably be in hell. 'Yeah, I'd definitely be in hell,' The weather worsened suddenly, the sky darkening with thick gray clouds and the waves slamming against the shore. Wanda knew it was America before she sensed her.

The child she once hunted appeared a few steps away, her brown eyes were wide, and she stood motionless. Wanda could feel the anxiety radiating off the girl. "Hello, Amer-"

"What do you want?" America bit out.

"Just to talk," The girl stared back at her, waiting for her to speak. "America, I'm sorry for-"

"Sorry isn't good enough!" Wanda suppressed the agitation she felt at being interrupted. She wasn't sure if that was her or the Darkhold; maybe they were one and the same. Wanda took a step forward, and America's hand shot up instantly, halting her approach. "That's close enough!" America hated the way the sudden rush of panic seeped into her voice. Wanda sighed and nodded, interlacing her fingers, still stained by the Darkhold's corruption. "You can't make me talk to you, ya know," The weather worsened again, and Wanda felt America's anxiety fade and be replaced by something else.

"I know that. And I KNOW sorry isn't good enough...!" America rolled her eyes and cackled a humorless laugh in response. "I just-"

"Well, you TRIED to force me! You got mad that I WOULDN'T! After everything you'd done to me, you acted as if I owed you something!" Wanda winced as she recalled how she'd lost her temper with the girl in front of her but said nothing. Instead, she allowed America to vent her anger without interruption. It was the least she could do. "So what is it, Wanda? Need me to forgive you so you can move on like Stephen thinks?" She finished in a huff, pacing a few times while Wanda stood silently. "WELL!?" Now it was America that took a step toward Wanda. "You said you wanted to talk! So TALK!" America stared at her expectantly.

Everything Wanda had thought she would say to the child she'd hunted across the multiverse now seemed hopelessly inadequate. "I guess I was just dumb enough to think you might forgive me after everything I did to you," America straightened slightly, caught off guard by that. "For the life of me, I don't know why you would. I didn't forgive Ultron or Thanos for what they did. So why would you forgive me?" The witch asked herself.

'Ultron?' America had heard of Thanos in many of the universes she hoped through. But her only encounters with an Ultron were at the Illuminati with Strange. Wanda turned away from the child, her eyes on the horizon still obscured by clouds. "How I was able to justify murdering you to get back to my..." She had to pause before the last word could leave her mouth. "It's a mystery to me now," The sky above cleared a bit, and a few rays of sunshine poked through.

Wanda sensed their time coming to an end, and she didn't expect to see the traveler again, so she said the only thing she could say. "I'm sorry, America, for all of it." And then the girl was gone, and again, Wanda was alone. Wanda sighed as a thought ran through her mind. 'Perhaps I am in hell after all...'

America woke to the ringing of her alarm clock and allowed herself a moment to run back through the conversation with Wanda. "Ultron?" The defense robots she'd seen trying to stop Wanda's assault on their headquarters. "Why would she need to forgive a robot?" America had her morning lessons with Wong but decided to skip them. After all, this seemed WAY more interesting than portals.


Across the world, in the small, unassuming town of Westview, Agnes slept fitfully. She tossed and turned and was drenched in sweat, her unconscious mind being called by a voice she didn't know. "You are not Agnes; remember who you are," said a voice in the dark of Agnes' seemingly dreamless sleep. A tendril of purple mist illuminated a small unfamiliar room, but she saw nothing else. "You are not just the nosy neighbor; you are NOT Agnes. Remember who-" Agnes snapped from her sleep, panting and out of breath. The woman sat up, pulling the comforter close to her chest and searching the room. For what? She wasn't sure.

Agnes lay back and closed her eyes, and the voice came again as she boarded on sleep. "Remember..." She jumped at the voice that seemed to only be in her head, and a glimpse of that purple energy seemed to leap out of her and out the window.

"All in your head, Agnes... Just a bad dream..." The woman settled back into her bed.

But that little glob of purple energy traveled across the town, over the woods, and headed north. It crossed into the endless days of the Arctic summer until it slipped into the ice. Where something long since frozen inside the glacier stirred, cracking the ice above. The creature let out a great and terrible roar that echoed across the tundra for hundreds of miles in every direction.

With a great heave, the creature broke through the ice that had trapped it thousands of years earlier at the beginning of the last ice age. A dragon, nearly 60 meters long, with giant golden eyes and gray scales, emerged. The ancient beast let out another thunderous roar and felt the pull to go south.


Author's note: So there's chapter two! And Woo-Hoo! Who doesn't love dragons? I'm not sure when exactly I decided I wanted to feature a dragon in my story but I did, so here we are!
I plan to feature Peter pretty heavily in this story but have not decided if the other Peters will be in it, mostly because I'm not sure how I'd write it, and I feel like it can get confusing very, very quickly if done incorrectly. Which I 100% think I would do, but let me know what you think! As for Stephen and Peter, I based it on Peter's last interaction with Mj at the end of No Way Home, where she seems to stare as if she still loves him, even though she can't remember him. I like the idea that while the spell erased everyone's memories of him, it couldn't scrub the imprint of him in their heart. Also, I wanted to draw some parallels between Peter and Wanda as I see them both as two characters who have sort of lost everything and everyone they ever loved. I hope you enjoyed and please read and review!