Chapter 8: One Cup of Tea

Just by being,
I'm here—
In snow-fall.

~Issa, from The Little Book of Zen,
ed. Manuela Dunn-Mascetti

Wanda had found her way to a dark aisle of the vast library, where she curled up under a large bookshelf.

She ached all over, was exhausted to her bones, and felt sick in a way she couldn't quite decide whether was physical or emotional. This was how she always felt these days, when she wasn't watching other worlds. She didn't do that now, not just because she knew if she did Strange and Wong would find her again, but because Strange's words had cut into her, making her feel too ashamed of herself to indulge in her only source of comfort.

She knew Wong was heading her way from the sound of his footsteps. She stayed still, hoping he wouldn't see her.

His footsteps stopped next to her. The room returned to perfect silence.

Finally she gave in and lifted her head to look.

Wong was stooped down, looking at her. His expression was one of gentle sympathy. That made her feel even worse.

He held out his hand. "Come on. I made some tea."

She wasn't sure why she took his hand and let him help her up. Maybe she was just too tired to be stubborn.

He opened a portal, stepped through, and waited for her to follow.

She found herself in some kind of dining room. A fire was blazing in a stone fireplace, but the rest of the room was wood: wood tables and chairs, hardwood floor, log walls and rafters. There were crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, but they were unlit. A large window revealed a mountain landscape covered in snow, with large, wet snowflakes batting against the glass. Wanda couldn't tell if it was dawn, evening, or just gloomy because of the snowclouds.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"A ski lodge in Canada. It's closed for renovation, so we don't have to worry about being seen or overheard."

The only set table was midway between the window and the fireplace. It had a three-tiered plate rack set with sandwiches cut into strips, fruit, and peanut butter cookies, and an ornate white teapot decorated with blue flowers and birds, with two matching teacups.

Wong took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. From her chair, she had a view of the window, with the fire at her back.

"Being able to go anywhere in the world in a second is an amazing power," she said. "It would have been really handy...once." She was thinking of the two years when she and Vision had met in secret, and how she and the other fugitive avengers had traveled around the world in a stolen Quinjet, always looking over their shoulder.

"It is wonderfully convenient," he agreed.

He poured the tea. It was an amber brown in color. Wanda watched wisps of steam rise from it, feeling hollow.

Wong took a sip. Wanda took a sip.

"What kind of tea is this?"

"Tieguanyin," he answered. "It's one of my favorites."

"It's good. I like it."

"Good."

He ate a bit of sandwich, and she did the same. They both looked out the window, saying nothing, as if conversation were unnecessary.

Wanda began to wonder about her host, about how curiously uncurious she'd been about him. Or anything, really, for a long time.

"So...you and Dr. Strange are...wizards?"

"Sorcerers is our preferred term."

"And you're part of some kind of secret society of sorcerers?"

"Yes. Though after an unfortunate incident a few years ago, there aren't many of us left."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She sipped her tea. "How long have you been around? Your...group, I mean."

"For thousands of years. Our records go back to ancient Mesopotamia, but that's just because that's as far back as records go."

"So...when Loki attacked Earth...when the Avengers were formed...and during Ultron...where were you?"

"Our order specializes in defending the world from threats of an occult nature. Part of that mission requires us to remain hidden from the mundane world. When the threat is in the form of technology or conventional human evil, our policy has always been to let police, military organizations, or S.H.I.E.L.D. provide the first line of defense. We did help defend New York during the Chitauri invasion. We were unaware of HYDRA's infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D., and their plan to take over the world. After Captain America, Black Widow, and Falcon stopped that plot, we learned that nearly every member of our order was on HYDRA's hit list. While we were watching the Ultron situation closely, we were also preoccupied at the time with defending the world from an unrelated invasion of reptilian cave monsters. That was fun."

She couldn't tell if he was being serious.

"I see."

He refilled both of their teacups.

"Strange can be a jerk," he said. "But believe it or not, he really believes he's trying to help."

Wanda had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that. She said nothing.

"I wish I could have met Vision," he continued. "All I know about him is from the Avengers' records, and what I've seen on the news, but I'm sure he'd want you to be happy."

She knew that. Of course she did. It just made it worse: not only had she lost Vision, she was failing him. Every day.

"But, of course, you already know that," Wong said.

"What? Are you a mind reader too?"

"I wish," he chuckled. Then he grew somber. "But I know a thing or two about losing people. Nothing like you, but enough. My grandparents died when I was a teenager. They practically raised me. It wasn't that my parents weren't around, but they worked so much I hardly ever saw them. My grandmother more than anyone shaped me into the person I am today. She was a skilled practitioner of feng shui. It wasn't until she was gone and I inherited her books that I realized what she had practiced was a kind of magic. That sparked my interest in ancient books, ancient secrets, that eventually led me to the Sanctum. A few years ago, a dear friend of mine was murdered by a rogue sorcerer. He was the keeper of the Sanctum's library before me. The Sorcerer Supreme before Strange—the woman who taught me the mystic arts—died a short time later. It isn't the same as the losses you have suffered, of course. I can't blame you for your habit: seeing other dimensions where your loved ones are still alive. It must be a great comfort."

"It is," she said. "I can see Vision alive, smiling, happy. And not just him: my twin brother Pietro, Natasha, even my parents. I can see them alive and well whenever I want. And me with them." She looked away. "Just not in this universe. Not in a lot of universes, but this is the one this version of me is stuck in."

"That's a...interesting way to put it. This version of you, not just you. But it's the only version of you you are. This is the life you have to live. It is wonderful to know your loved ones are there, are happy, in other worlds, but you have to learn to live your own life again. In this world."

"I don't know how," she said, looking into her tea like she might find answers there. "How am I supposed to live a life? How am I supposed to move on without him?"

Wong tilted his head thoughtfully. "Lù yáo yī bù yī bù zǒu, fàn yào yī kǒu yī kǒu chī. 'You walk a far road one step by one step, you eat a meal one mouthful by one mouthful'. You survive by living one moment at a time. You heal one moment at a time, by taking a minute to watch the snow fall, feel the warmth of the fire, enjoy one cup of tea."

Wanda impulsively got up and walked to the window. Something in her rejected Wong's silly advice. It was too simplistic, to the point of naïve, if not callous. Yes, Vision would want her to move on, to learn to live without him, but she couldn't. She couldn't let him go.

But, of course, she had no choice. Her Vision was gone. She was clinging to a ghost.

Out the window, mountains beyond mountains faded into the gloom. Nothing moved but the snowflakes that danced in shifting patterns as they fell.

Wong let her stand there while he sipped his own tea in silence, for minutes.

She returned to the table. He poured more tea into her cup. It was somehow still hot.

"Thank you for the tea," she said.