"No!" Sofia gasped, jumping up, wincing instantly; slowly touching her abdomen. Agony, seemed like too weak a word to describe what she was feeling, but it was something short and sweet.

If she was going for long, think: run over by a car + thrown into a bus+ run over by train+ being repeatedly hit by a giant mallet you play Whack-A-Mole with + being stabbing in the chest with a fire poker. That was a little more accurate to how she was feeling.

Someone cleaned her up, changed her clothes, even her hair felt washed. Probably a good thing. The amount of times she had her ass handed to her this week definitely left a mark. Probably more than a few marks, Sofia thought, touching the soft bandages on her ribs and on her collarbone and shoulder.

Her right hand was also in a wrist thing, which sucked as she was right-handed. "Ugh." She groaned, leaning back into the bed, wincing when she landed back. The room was neat, elegant, yet simple. Dark hard-wooden floors, with a matching desk and chair, a side table, wardrobe and cupboard. A door that led outside her room, to what she assumed was the rest of the house, wooden and dark too, with a round handle.

The bed was made of the same type of wood, the sheets, pillows and covers the same shade of deep red, with golden pillows, that she personally thought was a bit extra. The curtains of the window near the cupboard was also the same shade of red, and were currently drawn, allowing her to a piece of the bustling city.

On her left, the walls were lined with bookshelves that touched the ceiling, multi-coloured books of all shapes and sizes squeezed together. Two paintings hung on the walls, one with a tree and a swing, the other consisting of butterflies in a field.

Sofia smiled, she liked butterflies. Holding her right hand in her lap, she began to fidget with the weirdly wrapped bandage, in hopes of seeing the extent of the damage. In the corner of the room, she spotted her own go-bag-backpack, and her denim jacket on a hook. That looked extremely out of place with the room's aesthetic.

It was also surprising how large it was despite all the things packed into it. The bedroom was about the size of the kitchen and the lounge in the house in New Orleans, that she and Vesper stayed in.

Vesper…the thought of her caused her chest to tighten. She couldn't…she wouldn't…She just had to listen to her orders: don't cry, it won't help. Be strong. Be safe. Trust your instincts. Don't worry about me.

Don't worry about me…easier said than done. She took a breath, she took another, and a third for good measure. She could be strong. For Vesper.

"Ah, I had a feeling you were awake." Zelma said, pulling Sofia's attention from wondering how to unwrap the contraption. "Zelma," Sofia breathed out. "You're okay?"

"Better than you." the woman replied, adjusting her black beanie. She was pretty, a few years older than her, possibly in her twenties to early thirties at most, with large black glasses, with lightning bolts on the sides. She looked like almost every classic cool big sister in movies, and gave off that vibe too. "I'll go get Stephen, he's been…worried." Zelma said after a few seconds of contemplation, walking through the door.

Sofia didn't have to wait long. Just a Zelma disappeared, the man, Strange, Stephen Strange came in. An all too familiar red cloak on his shoulders that instantly jumped to life giving her an enthusiastic wave.

Sofia giggled, giving the cloak a wave back, a sharp pain shooting up her arm, making her flinch: right-handed, right wrist in wrist thing—oh, right.

"Easy, easy, you don't want strain it too much," Strange said, taking the room in almost two strides. Bending down, gently taking her wrist (either ignoring or not noticing her weirded out expression) shooing the cloak of his shoulders. The cloak opting to hover next to the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sofia asked, after a couple seconds of watching what he was doing, taking a proper look at him. He wore a blue tunic, pared with a yellow sash, his eyes were a grey colour, his hair dark with the white-grey streaks like her own. But his hands were what made her take a pause, they were covered in scars, thin lines that looked like stitches, reopened, cuts and slashes.

"Checking to see if it worsened or not. You're lucky it's just Grade 2 sprain, and it's not broken." Strange explained, continuing what he was doing. Sofia nodded her head. "How do you know that?"

"I am a doctor."

"Really? You're a real doctor?" Sofia said in surprise. Strange saying nothing, looking down at what he was doing, but she could see the deadpanned look in his eyes. "Like you work in a hospital and treat and operate on people?" Sofia continued. "Like on Grey's Anatomy?"

"I used to," Strange said, putting her wrist brace ting back on her wrist tightening it slight. "And it's nothing like Grey's Anatomy." he added, sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping the cloak. "Could you get my—

The cloak flew off. Strange glancing at her gesturing to her shoulder. "Can I-"

"Oh, yeah," Sofia said, letting him check her shoulder, staring awkwardly at the bookshelf. She'd never been to doctor's often and she meant never; due to their lifestyle, they couldn't risk it, despite her being no stranger to injuries that Vesper treated herself.

She'd only been to the hospital once, when she'd fainted, when the world's magical community had been cut off from their magical connections and tethers. She bit her lower lip, shivering slightly, that had been…a trying time…

"So you don't anymore?" Sofia asked. "Don't what?" Strange replied, eyes still focused on whatever he was doing. "Work at a hospital and stuff." Sofia said, her gaze shifting to his scarred hands.

They reminded her of ancient runic patterns, or roots of trees, the ones that curled and warped around each other. Something mystical and ancient. "No." he said shortly. He looked quite uncomfortable. Maybe he was just antisocial? Or awkward? Either way, there was something off about him.

"Why don't you anymore?" Sofia prompted, glancing back at the bookshelf. Despite the circumstances and the lack of complete conversation. This was the only time she'd even met, someone like her. People like her, it was…comforting to say the least.

She wasn't the freak that could see ghosts and liked to play in graveyards. She wasn't the child, the other children didn't want to play with, because of her 'imaginary friends' and her scary eyes. She was just a person who knew magic. Not weird, not strange, just her.

"You ask a lot of questions." Strange said, not unkindly-more intrigued; however Sofia didn't catch that, the girl instantly withdrawing.

"Sorry," Sofia said, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll keep quiet now, Doctor Strange."

"No, no, no," Stephen said quickly. "It's fine. Questions are the only way one can learn." he said, pausing for a second. He'd heeded Wanda's warning, and (begrudging) agreed with it. Sofia's life crumbled apart in a matter of days, he could hold off telling her who she was a little longer, at least until she was healed. "And you can call me Stephen, if you want." he added.

The cloak reappearing with what she guessed to be his medical bag, or his fancy first aid kit. Taking it, he unzipped in, rummaging through for something, pulling contraption that looked like a small tiny hair dryer without the end bit, which he pressed to her forehead the tiny thing making a beep sound.

"Okay," Sofia agreed. "I feel like I should apologise for the whole stealing your sling ring, dropping a ceiling on you, kicking you in the-"

"It's alright." Stephen said, looking at it, his lips pressed in a thin line, before he set it down on the bed. "Lift your hands above your head."

Sofia blinked at him, before sighing, doing as she was told. "Really, it's alright?" Sofia said, flinching at movement, her face tensing, shutting her eyes.

"Really. You can put them down." Stephen said, making a movement with his hands, familiar golden lines linking together. Sofia gave him a quizzing look, biting her lower lip. She was pain, but she doing her best not to show it. "What's a Sorcerer Supreme anyways?"

"You don't know?" he asked. She probably did, he wouldn't be surprised if she knew more about the term than he did. But she needed a distraction, which he was happy to provide for now.

"I've heard the term, but I don't really know what it means, I've had limited reading." Sofia answered, looking down at the red coloured bed covers.

"It's a title given by the Vishanti great masters of the mystic arts that maintains balance between all magical entities. Their meant to offer wisdom and guidance and protection towards all magical realms and dimensions. There are many Sorcerer Supremes all from their own dimensions, time and reality's, we all aid each other when another calls."

"Oh," Sofia said. Stephen fidgeting with his medical stuff, the girl using the moment to quickly wipe remove any traces of potential tears on her face. She'd be dammed if she burst into tears now. "Makes a lot more sense, I thought you were just on an ego trip."

Stephen snorted. "Most people do."

"Can I ask, where we are?" Sofia said, they definitely didn't feel like they were in the school, and she wasn't at the house in New Orleans or any other previous 'safe house' she and Vesper lived in either.

"My home, the Sanctum Santorum." Stephen said, pulling out a new bandage, and a small bottle of pills. "Powerful name." Sofia said instantly, making him smile to himself. She was sharp.

"Latin, right?" Sofia continued. "Means the Holy of Holies. A private or secret place, where select people are allowed to go, where important work or activities are taking place, right?"

"Exactly," he said, wrapping the bandage around her hand. "This is also the most powerful magical building in New York City, all tethers and ley-lines trace back to here."

"That's cool." Sofia mused. "It is." Stephen said, watching her gaze around the room. Curiosity oozed out of her, her eyes lighting with wonder, as they swept around, drinking in every inch of the room.

"You should get some rest. Zelma will bring you something eat and then I want you to get some sleep, or at least try to," he added, seeing her face.

"But I can't sleep during the day." Sofia grumbled. Her words were so child-like, the fact, that Sofia was indeed a child, crashing down on him. "At least try to." Stephen said gently, picking up the kit, making his way to the door.

Sofia licked her lips. "Doctor Strange," she called, making him turn. "May I ask you one last thing?"

Stephen nodded. "Of course, Sofia."

"Why…do you look like me?"

"I mean, it's pretty obvious." Zelma said, scratching her hair underneath her hat. "It's not like Sofia really took much of Clea's looks on, and she isn't exactly blind. She looks like a mini you, if you were female and younger."

"No," Stephen mumbled to himself, shaking his head. "She looks more like Donna."

"What did you tell her?" Wanda asked, glancing up above them, Zelma and Strange following in suit.

"She's asleep, though I believe we must thank the Mists of Morpheus more than anything else." Wong said, entering the study, closing the door. "You didn't." Zelma gasped. Stephen and Wanda sharing equal looks of disbelief.

"I didn't." Wong said, standing next to Wanda. "I just put some highly concentrated Valerian root in her tea and a sprinkling of our special tea leaves."

"You drugged her?" Stephen said, pinching his brow. "I put simply put Valerian root and our special tea leaves in her tea." Wong replied. "So you drugged her." Zelma stated.

"The child seemed tense, and she required rest, I did nothing, that wouldn't benefit her." Wong said calmly. Stephen shaking his head. "You sound like Clea."

"Has she contracted you since we got Sofia?" Wanda asked, tapping her right hand against her left arm. Stephen shook his head. "No. It appears my darling wife has now become disinterested with our daughter now that she's not in any immediate danger. Despite her saying otherwise."

"How is she?" Wanda said softly, glancing towards the staircase almost longingly.

"In pain. She has a separated shoulder, grade two wrist sprain, multiple bruises and cuts, not to mention dehydration, potential risk of sepsis-" Stephen listed, more and more risks and potential injuries entering his mind, flapping around, before being almost shelved into a file, as a new risk floated out.

"She's been running, attacked and hiding for nearly two days. It's what to be expected." Zelma said heavily, folding her arms over her chest. "Meeting her parents like this, isn't what to be expected." Stephen said, fidgeting with his hands.

"If she already knows," Wanda said; her voice drifting up towards Sofia, fading into nothing but the buzz and humming of the sanctum. Clinging to her covers, fighting to stay awake, despite the heavy weight of her eyelids, that she was almost positive came from the tea that Wong had given her which lay resting on the side table.

But, she couldn't, she had to…she had to….

"I think its best, you tell her the truth."

Blunt. That was something Vesper would always scold her about when she was younger. She never understood it. What was wrong with the truth? Vesper then explained, that the truth was always good, but having the truth and tact was better.

Sofia learned three very important things from this lesson.

The definition of the Tact, paraphrased is: the skill and sensitivity a situation, understanding in a considerate manner, keeping one or others feelings in mind, when dealing with troubling news and/or situations. Truth and tact was indeed better. Truth, tact and perfect manners instilled from a young age: perfect. Something she learned: politeness could also mask many insults, without getting you in trouble. Just because you have tact, doesn't mean evading from the truth, your 'bluntness' is guiding you; your 'flaw' can and most likely will be a strength. Use it.

The last and most recent thing Sofia learned? Doctor Stephen Strange did not have tact.

FIVE HOURS AGO:

She never considered herself, an easily bored person, but trapped in a bed 24/7 with nothing, except the books on the shelves, most of which she already read or were too high for her to reach. (But she'd rather get swallowed by a black hole than ask anyone for help to get them). In short: she was bored out of her skull.

Wanda had been her most recent visitor, bringing with her kind, mothering smiles and a pot plant, which Sofia thought was sweet. Despite knowing deep in her soul, the plant would be dead within a week of her care. Nevertheless, Smiles was a nice addition to the empty room, and the fact that Wanda was kind enough to actually scribble a smiley face on it was even sweeter.

Unlike the others, Wanda talked to her openly, offering care in a way she could only compare to Vesper, except unlike her Aunt. Wanda was more…emotional, more open. Wanda felt safe in a way she wasn't used too. She left far too soon for Sofia's liking, but with a promise of returning soon.

Zelma popped in every mealtime with a bright smile. Breakfast, lunch, supper, usually with two plates so they could eat together, though most of the time it consisted of Zelma half-scolding, half-force feeding her more food.

She was nice and eager to get to know her, but Sofia caught the strange looks on her face, ones that she knew meant something, but she couldn't quite pinpoint. But she was happy to bring her some new books, so Sofia decided to swallow any interrogative questions.

She only saw Wong when he brought her tea, which consisted of few shared words: "How are you today, Wong?"-"Fine, how are you?"-"I am doing well."-"Wonderful."- and so forth. Actually that was about it. Most of the time, she was sure it was shorter. She could tell Wong seemed almost unnerved by her, and that getting out as fast as possible was his only solution.

She saw Doctor Strange twice at most. Sometimes not at all. When he did decide to make an appearance. He appeared in the mornings after she and Zelma had breakfast, and would more often than not proceed to attack her with his stupid stethoscope and his medical jargon that made her want nothing more than to take said stethoscope and fling it out the window onto oncoming traffic.

And that was her day in a nutshell.

It had been week.

Every question from before, things about Vesper were brushed off with the usual answer. "We're here to help you."-"We'll find Vesper."-"Don't worry, just get some rest."

She trusted their words, (well at the very least Wanda's) but she couldn't handle being stuck in one place for more than 15 minutes. A week was torture.

Sofia glanced at the clock: 2:25pm, the sun was out, the birds were chirping. It was a perfect day in New York City. She never really explored New York….stepping onto the hard wooden floor, instantly feeling dizzy, before sitting back down on the bed.

She couldn't escape like this even if she used magic, she'd probably collapse on the pavement and earn herself room with no window.

Sofia bit her lower lip, lying back on her pillow. Strange appearing would indeed be a strange event. Zelma wouldn't come for another four or so hours. Wong would come at around 3:30 or 4:00pm, but if she was sleeping…he probably wouldn't even notice if she was gone, if her body was here.

Sofia grinned, getting into a comfortable position, shutting her eyes, focusing hard. It wasn't usually difficult for her to enter the astral plane, but her body was weak and her magic weaker than her body. But she was sure a small jaunt outside would be fine. Just to see.

Right?

Getting into the astral plane, was like…trying to flip a chocolate chip pancake with just one chocolate chip. Flip the pancake, but the chocolate chip jumps out, leaving just a small chocolaty imprint, but the chocolate chip, is long gone.

The difficult part: the flip of the pancake. You had to think very hard about, the separation. How to distinguish that your body and you astral form can be two different things, but at the same time maintaining the connection between your physical form and your astral form.

See the difficultly? If you simply leave your body without maintain your connection, it's harder to get back in. Vesper always said, coma patients really just entered their astral form, and didn't know how to get back into their physical form, but Sofia didn't know if that was true or not.

If you don't do the separation right, you're stuck, and greeted with a killer headache and the feeling of indigestion. You might even throw up. Vesper once told her that someone once threw up their astral form, causing them to get stuck between their body and their astral self, but she didn't know if that was true or not either.

She opened her eyes, grinning widely when she saw her body sleeping. It slightly eerily seeing yourself in real life, like seeing 8D or something.

"What's this, on yes, full mobility." Sofia sang to herself, stretching and jumping in her astral form, her eyes fixating on the open window. "And for diving, its non-other than, Sofia!" Sofia whispered cheered, jumping out the window floating in the air.

"Freedom!"

"Sofia?" Wong called, knocking on the door, before opening it, peering inside. Black and white hair spilled onto the red pillow, curling and edging in different directions. "Sofia?" he tried again, edging further into the room, setting the tray holding a cup of tea and a few biscuits (that she ended up never really eating) onto the desk.

He stared at her for a few seconds, watching the rhythmic in and out of breath. "She's asleep." he announced. Stephen poking his head in. "What?"

"She's asleep." Wong repeated. Stephen standing next to him, the two watching Sofia sleep, her hands tight on her covers, her face relaxed and still. "She doesn't sleep at this time." Stephen mumbled, checking his watch, tucking his hands into his pockets. "She can't sleep during the day."

"Maybe, she's too tired. Or she's feeling the strain of her magical injuries." Wong mused. "Hmm." Stephen mumbled, unable to shake the difference in the room. "You feel that?"

Wong paused. "No."

"Very good spell." Stephen said, shutting his eyes. He could feel it faintly like an inch, he was unable to scratch. Something just out of his reach. He opened his eyes. "It's gone."

"Did you see her today?" Wong asked, his hands clasped around his back. "This morning, when Zelma brought her breakfast." Stephen replied, doing the same. Wong shook his head. "Let me rephrase, did she see you today?"

"Not that I know of."

"You're not one for hiding, Stephen." Wong said lightly, shutting Sofia's window, drawing the curtains shut. "She needs rest." Stephen said, edging further inside, leaning over the bed, watching Sofia.

She looked very small. Her hair was nothing short of a bird's nest. Her hairband which had slipped off, lying on the pillow with stray strands over her face. "Not more problems. Watching from afar…is safer." he said slowly.

"Do you believe that's what Clea did? Watch from afar?" Wong asked, turning to him; Stephen slowly reaching out, moving some of the stray strands out of Sofia's face. He touched nothing, but her hair, almost as if he were afraid to touch her at all.

He knew Stephen well enough to know it was fear, rather than cold indifference. However he doubted Sofia would feel the same once she learned off the truth. Then again, Sofia's thoughts and actions were still mysteries to them. Maybe she might surprise them all.

"All I know, is Sofia was hidden from me." Stephen said, still observing Sofia. "Given to a stranger and my wife has been lying to me for over 15 years. Everything else, is speculation." he sighed, stepping back; once again distancing himself from her.

Wong hummed, deciding that he'd made his mind up concerning Clea, and nothing, at least now would change it for now. Standing in the doorway, his hand on the handle, he paused when he saw that Stephen hadn't moved from his spot in the near-middle of the room. "You're staying?"

Stephen blinked. "There's something wrong here. I just want to double check." he said, turning back to Sofia, his hands in his pockets. Wong nodded. "Very well, I will be in the kitchen, if you need me."

Stephen inclined his head. Wong closing the door behind him with a light click.

Stephen sighed, pacing around the room, running over the enchantment's and wards he'd placed in the room. After about 10 minutes of checking and double checking this. He walked back to his place just about a meter away from Sofia's bed. Grabbing the chair from the desk, setting it down where he'd been standing he sat down, hands crossed in front of his face.

She was shivering slightly, goosebumps on her arm, despite the warm weather. He got up, taking a blanket out of the cupboard, unfolding it, throwing it over her. He made a move to tuck it in, before he paused. He should check for a fever. She'd hadn't had one in a couple days, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Reaching out, he gently touched her forehead, instantly withdrawing. "So that's what it is." he mumbled, pinching his brow. "Fifth time, I lost her five times, this is unbelievable."

Thoughts?

Till next time...