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It Began with a Goodbye

by Riley Berg

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Chapter Nine

Despite my pathetic direction, Stephen is able to tap into that manifestation of sorcery that is akin to telekinesis, and we manage to repair most of the damages to the Sanctum in the weeks following Thanksgiving. I smile each time I pass the relic room.

I also invent a way to "create something from nothing" by the use of very small portals. It is not creation, but rather the transfer of an object from one location to another. We start with liquids, which proves easy, but then I try to instruct him on calling objects from other dimensions of the multiverse and that proves more difficult. We are still working on it as Christmastime comes around.

What portions of my schedule are not filled with Strange are filled with reading books in search for Supreme Procedure, as I have come to call it, and Christmas shopping. You would think I would have the foresight to do my Christmas shopping before the busyness of December, but I never do.

After Stephen's complaints about Thanksgiving, but not wanting to leave him alone for Christmas (and assured that he has no plans—again), I plan to spend Christmas at the New York Sanctum and invite Wong to join us for Christmas dinner. He does not give an affirmative reply, but I know he will be there.

I have Stephen use his new abilities to help me tidy the rest of the Sanctum. Now I can cook in the kitchen without fighting the mess, and the office is finally organized. Even the rest of the dormitories, despite being unused, are clean. When all is done, I have Stephen use his powers to put up the Christmas décor. He looks at me like he suspects I am too lazy to do so myself, but obliges me anyway.

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"What's all this?"

I look up from my bed—which I have taken to using once a week in an attempt to encourage Stephen to go out more often (to no avail)—at the man standing in the doorway.

"Wong," I smile at the unexpected sight and answer, "Christmas presents."

"That's a lot of Christmas presents."

I laugh. "I have an unexpected number of friends."

"And she absolutely revels in it," Stephen (wearing the ever-present Cloak) adds as he joins Wong in the doorway.

I am glad my presents for Stephen and Wong are already wrapped.

"Well, are you two just going to stand there? Either come in or say what you have to say." The boys eye my room warily. "I did choose the largest room in the dormitory," even if it is mostly covered with the mess of my Christmas preparations at present, "it even has a private bath." I give them a purposefully cheesy smile.

Wong gives me his usual blank stare that I have come to understand is his version of an eye roll and Stephen gives a little silent sigh, but they both join me in my room.

Stephen looks around as if counting presents. "How many friends do you have at Charles's?"

"Not many, actually. It is a school—mostly younger people, therefore." Stephen and Wong do not seem to understand the implications. I suppose they do not know me well enough yet. I continue. "Even if they are gifted," for I tend to be even more impatient with mundane company, "they are still children. And if many adults seem children to me, then children seem all the more immature."

"Then who is all of this for?" Stephen leans back in the armchair by the window (Wong still refuses to sit) and I smile at him making himself comfortable as I return to my present-wrapping.

"Well, I do have a few friends there in addition to Charles. Charles and Ororo, of course." Did I ever mention Ororo's name? I turn my head to Stephen. "Ororo was my companion there," I explain in a manner that gives Wong little to no information, though it might trigger his curiosity—if Wong is capable of curiosity. "There are three others, too, and one student, actually, that I met when last I stayed there. She is older—not a little child anymore," I explain, "and we had some things in common. I do not think she would consider me her friend, but I consider her one of mine, if only barely."

I glance at Wong. I am surprised he is listening to all this. He is usually so purpose-driven. What did he come to say and why is he waiting to say it?

"That's six," Stephen interrupts my thoughts, "and I assume four more are for your friends at the Baxter Building—"

"Our friends at the Baxter Building," I interrupt with a smile.

Stephen ignores me. "But that accounts for less than half."

I shake my head at him.

Why the interest? Perhaps he is bored in absence of my "teaching"? But I have discovered that he is a very good self-teacher, and enjoys that method of learning, so perhaps not. But then why?

"Well, there is also you and Wong," I answer, relishing the mild look of surprise on Stephen's face and the twitch that is Wong's only manifestation of his own surprise. I wonder why they are surprised, though. Even if they do not yet consider me a friend, even if they are not yet aware that I do consider them so, I live with Stephen and have been training with Wong in addition to searching the library with him, even if we tend to do the latter separately. Is that not enough to warrant well wishes at Christmastime?

"And," I hesitate, wondering if I should say it, "ten Avengers… and-or ex-Avengers. Not really sure where they all stand. I heard things went a little…" I shrug, not knowing what word to use, "something since I left."

A glance at Wong reveals nothing more than his usual stoic expression, but I still wonder why he is tolerating this conversation. Stephen does not look surprised, but then again, Sue did mention my work with the Avengers at Thanksgiving.

"And the remaining three are for… friends from my SHIELD days."

This is the second Christmas since I began using my powers again, but last year it did not occur to me that I could use them to deliver presents for which I did not have a mundane method of delivery. I was, of course, easily able to have packages delivered to Charles's school and the Baxter Building, and was able to reach eight of ten Avengers (and then-ex-Avengers), but Bruce was still in hiding as far as I could ascertain, Thor was (and remains, so far as I am aware) off-world, and my fellow ex-agents were also off-grid.

I finish wrapping the last present and sit back on my bed, considering the two men that have taken up temporary residence in my room without yet alluding to their purpose. I turn to Wong expectantly, but he still says nothing. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You have been most patient with my frivolity, Wong. Now, did you come here because you want something, or just to bask in the glory of my presence?" I tease.

Not even the hint of a smile, or even an exasperated shake of the head.

"I came to say I'll be coming."

I look at him in surprise.

"To Christmas dinner," he clarifies unnecessarily.

I did not expect an answer. I thought he would come, yes, but without addressing his intention to do so.

After Wong takes his leave of us, Stephen—still comfortable in my chair—asks, "Christmas dinner?"

I cringe. I have yet to say anything about my plans for Christmas, or that he is a part of them.

"Well, I thought a quiet Christmas was in order, so I planned to stay in. With you. And Wong." I eye him somewhat nervously. "You can invite anyone you want, of course," I add.

I suspect he either has no one to invite or will refuse to do so. I sigh. I might just have to accept that he is determined to be alone.

"No," he confirms my suspicions. "I told you, I don't have friends."

That is not true, of course, but perhaps he refuses to see it.

With his scarred hands, Stephen helps me stack my twenty-five presents in a corner. I smile at the pile in satisfaction, though I wish there was one more, for Mother. We never really celebrated Christmas in the usual sense, but we always did a little something.