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It Began with a Goodbye

by Riley Berg

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Chapter Four

I wake—well, half-wake—in darkness. The blankets are heavy. I try to remember why I covered myself so thoroughly. Maybe I was feeling sick. I remember my headache had only worsened with the progressing days, but I don't remember feeling anything else.

Then I realize it isn't just the blankets weighing heavily on me, but an arm.

That's strange; Ororo doesn't usually sleep so close. But if Ororo is sleeping beside me that means I was overcome with fatigue! I must have worried her terribly for her to abandon her usual position a few inches away in order to snuggle against me, and with her arm around my waist.

The thought, the worry about worrying Ororo—and Charles—wakes me a little more. But then the blankets feel heavier and seem to draw tighter around me and Ororo unconsciously pulls me closer as if sensing my wakefulness, and it all pushes me back into sleep.

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When I wake, daylight streams across my face. I realize I am alone. Ororo must already be up. By the brightness of the light behind my eyelids, it is well into the day. But if I slept so late, I wonder why my still body feels weighted down with sleep as I slowly open one eye.

This is not Ororo's room.

I sit up too quickly and my headache returns with a ferocity almost intense enough to keep me from noticing the heavy blankets falling—no, flowing off me. Well, blanket. I stare, still tired enough that I question what I am seeing, as the blanket continues pulling off me and rises to a resting point at the end of the futon I was sleeping on. Until I realize that it takes a familiar shape.

The Cloak of Levitation!

I whip my head around. I am at the New York Sanctum!

But why was the Cloak of Levitation—? I shake my head. There is no use in trying to figure out why a relic did what it did, especially not the Cloak of Levitation, which has far more personality than most relics. But it has a master now, so why would it—? Again, I shake my head. It is still a useless path of inquiry.

Trying not to let that and other questions press my already throbbing mind, I crawl to the edge of the mattress and attempt to stand.

Bad idea.

Apparently, I am still weak.

I cringe, knowing I am going to fall hard, and I do. But something catches my head before it smacks the floor. The Cloak. I glare at the crimson material as I recover from the shock of the fall. Shooing the Cloak away, I attempt to stand again. This time I'll do it.

Or not.

But this time I am caught before I can fall very far.

"Maybe you should not try standing yet, Master Sophia," comes a slightly familiar voice a little too close to my ear.

"Master Sophy," I grumble.

Strange—for my unfocused mind now recognizes the voice—assists me to a nearby settee where I find the outer portions of my mourning clothes flung over the arm. Glancing down I find the white tunic and tan leggings that remain. Somehow I manage to notice the absence of my boots while my mind continues to search for a settled state.

"What—what happened?"

My eyes closed against the sunlight, I feel the cushion sink beside me.

"Apparently, you didn't… wake up at your usual time or something. After you scared him with that little emergency instruction of yours, Wong felt it appropriate to check on you. I guess he couldn't wake you up. So, he brought you here."

"But Charles…"

There is a long pause. "I guess because he didn't know how long you had been… out, he didn't want to waste time coming to get you, so..." he trails off.

Even in my (now only slightly) foggy mind, that doesn't sound right. Charles has access to resources that would make my transportation instantaneous. But why would Strange lie?

I manage to squint at Strange. "Why are you lying?" I'm in no mood for subtleties.

He seems taken aback, from what I cansee, by my accusation.

Strange sighs as if in acceptance. "It was an… odd situation. You had the benefit of sleeping through it, but I had to live through it. I thought I'd save you the trouble."

Ah. There is only one kind of "medicine" that rejuvenates me. He must have been the one to administer it. And that must have been awkward for him.

I look at him contemplatively before deciding not to speak of it. He obviously doesn't want to speak of it.

I don't remember how long I lasted before going comatose. "How long was I at Kamar-Taj before I…?"

"A week, I think."

"And how long was I asleep?"

"About forty-eight hours by my estimation, including the night you wouldn't wake up from."

I nod and regret it.

Without speaking of that which he obviously doesn't want to speak about, I cannot ascertain how much of that time Master Strange granted me his proximity—and I know he did grant me it, or I would not have been rejuvenated enough to wake, though I don't know how he knew to do it—but forty-eight hours is a long time to sleep. Even if I don't strain myself as I did before, I'm going to need renewing proximity too often for it to be practical for me to work at Kamar-Taj and rejuvenate at Charles's.

Lost in thought, I do not notice Strange's absence until he returns.

"Tea?"

I nod, this time without a pounding reply on the inside of my skull.

"With a bit of honey." He extends a cup to me.

I smile. "Mother's favorite."

"So, she was really your mother?"

I groan. Apparently, the cessation of my headache did not indicate the full return of my faculties.

I decide not to speak.

After I have consumed two cups of tea, I feel well enough to dress. I stand in front of the attic window pondering where to go from here. I cannot in good conscious leave the Mystics without a Sorcerer or Sorceress Supreme when I am the closest thing they have to an Overseer. An Overseer that was supposed to teach the humans how to take care of themselves, including something like selecting their own Supreme when the last died. I have searched the forbidden texts but found nothing. Maybe I missed it. But I am the only one who will search them, and the only one who can read Mother's journals—which are written in old Gaelic—or the old manuscripts that remain in the language of the Overseers or the few that are in ancient Greek. I cannot leave the Mystics. That is not an option.

So, how do I do so without fainting every week? Because I have a feeling this is going to take longer than I anticipated.

I sigh. I'll just have to freak out one of the females at Kamar-Taj with my strange request and maybe enlist Wong in helping me convince her that I'm not a creep or murderer… Though I'm not sure Wong will be much help with that.

"It was the Cloak," Strange interrupts my thoughts.

I look up, confused.

"The Cloak… prevented me from contacting your friend as you requested."

Ah. I remember, it does that sometimes. I always had a good laugh when it chose a new Master and they had yet to synchronize their thoughts.

"I thought perhaps I was supposed to take you to a medical facility myself, but the Cloak prevented that as well. I knew you needed help, but I didn't know what to do except examine you to the extent I was able with the available resources and… make you comfortable."

"So you rolled out the futon in the common room."

Strange nods. "The dormitories aren't… well-kept," he adds unnecessarily; I know the state of this Sanctum.

"I tried waking you, and as Wong said, you wouldn't even respond. But you were breathing. Your body didn't seem to be in distress so far as I could determine. So, I let you rest."

Strange quiets and I wonder whether he is debating if he should tell the rest or still trying to avoid it again.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"This has happened to you before?" he replies with his own question.

I nod.

"And you know how to… heal it?"

I nod again.

"And it will happen again?"

"If I do not take precautionary measures."

"Precautionary measures?"

"The same thing as healing, just before I faint instead of after."

"And there is no one at Kamar-Taj that knows how to… heal you?"

"No."

"You were avoiding telling anyone there?"

"Yes."

"But you do not want to leave to stay at your friends'?"

"Correct."

Strange sighs as if making a decision he does not want to. "Well, now I know."

I raise my eyebrows. He is getting uncomfortably—for him—close to the admission he was avoiding.

"I don't know how it's possible, but I believe that… sleeping next to someone somehow heals you."

"Basically," I sigh. I wonder if the Cloak of Levitation guided him in that discovery.

"It's a long story," I reply to his expression of inquiry, "that I'm not going to tell you." At least, not at the moment.

"So, you need to sleep next to someone occasionally or you'll… faint?"

"Yes," I reply in annoyance. Haven't we clarified this already?

"You don't want to stay at your friends', and you don't want to tell anyone else, but I already know. So, why don't you stay with me? You will be close to Kamar-Taj as you wish, and I'll… provide you with those precautionary measures we were talking about."

I raise my eyebrows. Why would he make that offer?

"In exchange for what?" I inquire warily.