chapter one
girl in bloom

      Sabrina is a girl in bloom, and much like flowers, she too needs to find the sun to thrive.  She spends afternoons on the rooftops when she's done with her training, surrounded by books and papers for their studies.  They spend most of their afternoons alone because it's clear that they do not belong in a place like Kamar-Taj.  She doesn't belong with the children of Kathmandu, either, she knows far too much to ever be able to blend into the normalcy of Kathmandu.  And so, they exist in this sort of limbo between belonging.  The Ancient One says that she's the optimal age to learn the Mystic Arts because her mind is still moldable—it hasn't been solidified like most adults' and so, it's easier for her to believe.  Sabrina thinks she just says this to make her feel better. 

She lets out a sigh and slams the book in her lap shut.  She's been reading the same page for the past hour, but the words stayed stubbornly fixated on the paper instead of ingraining themselves into her mind.  Another day, another disappointment, they think to themself, as they shove their books and papers into their backpack.  They try not to picture the expression that would inevitably be across Wong's face when she comes back to the sanctum without any of her work done (it's a mixture of exasperation and disappointment if you must know).  It's not like they don't try.  They try so hard, but there are times when she just can't.  Her brain screams for her to do something, but instead, she's stuck in this sort of paralysis where her mind is moving thousands of miles per second, but her body is left behind.  It reminds her of when the Ancient One cast her soul out of her physical body for the first time.

They push themself to the edge of the rooftop and let their feet dangle over the decrepit alleyway below.  She stares down at the cobbled pathway below and wonders—just for a split second—how much it would hurt if she pushed herself off of the ledge, how it would feel to spread her arms and fall.  This isn't the first time she's fallen victim to l'appel du vide—the call of the void.  She can't count the times that she's climbed to the top of a precipice to escape the rest of the world but contemplated leaping off instead.  It calls out to her like a siren to a lone sailor, though there's only one time that Sabrina has become entranced by the call.  Mordo saw her plummeting from the rooftop of Kamar-Taj and opened a portal at the last minute to soften the impact.  Sabrina shakes her head and trains her gaze away from the ground, stories below her.

Instead, they gaze over the bustling city of Kathmandu, Nepal.  She's never had much control in her life; it's always been life dragging her around by invisible strings as if she's nothing more than a marionette, but from up here, she feels a little more in control.  She supposes this is the illusion of being above everybody else.  From their vantage point, they feel as though with the snap of their fingers, they can bend reality to their will—and in a way, they suppose that they do possess that capability.  The Mirror Dimension is a realm in which the visitor is completely in control.  Sabrina's only been there once, with The Ancient One, but that small lick of power had left her aching for more.  But Sabrina knows that she'll never progress enough to go to the Mirror Dimension alone. 

Voices in the alley below her pull her out of her reverie of power.

"Look, guys, I don't have any money," a tired voice sounds from below.

They look down to see a bearded man, bedraggled and beaten, weary from travel encircled by three men.  She can tell he's a traveler by the coat that he wears and the bag that hangs at his side—and by the fact that he is alone in the shadows of the alleyway.  Sabrina's stained these alleyways with her own blood more times than she can count.  Danger lurks around corners in the alleyways of Kathmandu, waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting, that's just how the world works.  People do what they have to do to survive.  Big fish eat the little fish.  You need to be careful in places like these alleyways—unless you are Sabrina, who actively seeks out the thrills of fights.  Bruises and cuts adorn her like freckles because she relishes the adrenaline that comes with bare-knuckled brawls in the alleyways. 

Sabrina knows that she shouldn't get involved, the sting of the last punch she threw lingers in her fist.  But impulsivity has always been Sabrina's downfall and before she really knows what she's doing, she's slinging her backpack over her shoulder, and silently scaling down the rickety fire escape.  Her feet hit the ground lightly right as the bearded man throws his first punch.  Sabrina hesitates for a moment.  Perhaps the bearded man can hold his own.

The bearded man cries out, loud and guttural as he clenches a tremoring hand.  One of the men takes the moment to swing his fist, striking the man in the skill.  Another one lunches out, nailing him in the gut, and soon the bearded man is on the ground as the three men close in on him.  A storm of feet converges and pounds down on the poor bearded man who has curled into a ball on the ground. 

Sabrina slings off her backpack and grabs it in one hand as she charges toward the nearest man who slips something off of the bearded man's wrist.  She swings the backpack in an arc over her head.  She lets it slip from her grasp at the last moment and grins as the bag hits the closest man on the back of the head with a satisfying thunk.  He lets out a sharp cry and crumples to the ground.  The two other men turn to Sabrina, eyes glinting like a predator who caught a little more than it bargained for—little do they know, Sabrina is not their prey—but before she can square her fists and set her jaw, she senses a presence at her side and bats away the hand that reaches out before it can touch her shoulder.

They stand tall and shrouded in black robes.  A hood conceals their face, but Sabrina knows who it is.  They always have a way of knowing.  She rolls her eyes as Mordo steps forward the swiftly dispatches the three men; there's a fluidity in his movements, something almost graceful about them despite the violence that is tied to his actions.  This is a grace that Sabrina does not possess because her actions are fueled by her burning desire to be noticed, not from the calm that is brought by the Mystic Arts.

"I totally had them," Sabrina mutters as Mordo crouches over the crumpled body of the man she hit with her backpack. 

Mordo ignores her and places a gleaming watch into the bearded man's cupped hands.  Sabrina doesn't fail to notice the tremor and the myriad of scars that cover the man's hands.  There's a pale white line that stretches down each of his slender fingers where his skin was sewn back together in red, almost raw patches to create a glove of flesh over skeletal, torn fingers.  No doubt, he's seeking Kamar-Taj.  Those who need a miracle seek Kamar-Taj. 

This man desperately needs a miracle, Sabrina thinks, and a bath.

Mordo lowers his hood.  "You're looking for Kamar-Taj."

The man looks up in astonishment and nods silently.  Mordo's expression does not change as he nods softly, brushing past the bearded man.  Sabrina is quick to follow behind him, scooping up her backpack in her arms as she passes by it.  The bearded man follows after them.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*

Sabrina finds themself traipsing into The Ancient One's sanctuary after Mordo and the bearded man.  Sunlight streams through the latticed walls, carving geometric patterns of light across the ground.  The smell of perpetually burning incense fills her nose and makes her want to gag, but she suppresses the urge.

Kamar-Taj has always filled her with a sense of security, and even though she doesn't feel as if she belongs, it's still home because the people she cares about are there. For Sabrina, home has always been about the people rather than the place (Wong says it's from that trauma of being abandoned, Sabrina tells him to stop psychoanalyzing her). At Kamar-Taj, she has people who care about her. They've taught her everything that she knows—she folds butterflies for bookmarks because that's what a Sorcerer passing Kamar-Taj taught her to do, she takes her tea how Wong takes his because he didn't know what she liked in hers, when she's sick she listens to the Beatles because there's a memory buried in her mind of her parents listening to them, she watches Studio Ghibli movies because a pretty Sorceress did.  Sabrina is a mosaic of everybody she's ever loved—even for a heartbeat.

"The sanctuary of our teacher," says Mordo.  "The Ancient One."

"The Ancient One?" The man repeats.  "What's his real name?"  Sabrina suppresses a smirk as Mordo turns to the man who bows his head.  "Right.  Forget everything I know.  Sorry."

He steps forward into the room and takes in the scenery before him.  Sabrina has been in the Ancient One's sanctum enough times to know every nook and cranny of the room.  It's no longer as awe-striking as it had been years before.  They let out a sigh and drop their backpack on the ground before reclining on one of the red benches that stretches across the room.  Mordo remains in the doorway as the bearded man steps forward towards Hamir who sits silently in a chair, reading on the far side of the room behind a billow of smoke.

"Thank you for....whoa—" the bearded man starts as the two students who lurk in the corner of the room shed him of his coat.  He turns back to Hamir and steps forward again.  "Okay, that's a thing.  Thank you for—thank you."

Sabrina watches in amusement with a small smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as the newcomer saunters over to Hamir, only to be intercepted by another student who places a small mug in his trembling and bandaged hands.  The Ancient One, who wears robes of pure white, swoops in with a teapot in hand and fills the small cup in the beaded man's hands.

"Uh, thank you...Ancient One, for seeing me," the bearded man finally manages to say, his attention still on the man that he has mistaken for The Ancient One.  This isn't the first time that this has happened—it seems to be a running joke now, just to see how many people will mistake the Hamir for The Ancient One.  Hamir only eyes the bearded man before he stands up and exits the room without so much as a word spoken between them.  The bearded man's eyes follow his path out of the room, and Sabrina can see the confusion within them.

"You're very welcome," The Ancient One replies.

The bearded man stares at The Ancient One, mouth agape.  He turns back to Mordo who nods in confirmation, sweeping out a hand to gesture back at The Ancient One.  "The Ancient One."

"Thank you, Master Mordo.  Thank you, Master Hamir."  The Ancient One looks past the bearded man and to Hamir, who nods before disappearing down the latticed hallway.  She redirects her attention to the man before her.  "Mister Strange."

"Uh—Doctor, actually," Strange corrects, lifting the cup of tea to his lips.

"Well, no, not anymore, surely," The Ancient One replies.  Her gaze is trained on the man's trembling hands.  "Isn't that why you're here?  You've undergone many procedures.  Seven, right?"

"Yeah," Strange confirms.  "It's...good tea."

He watches as The Ancient One walks over to the nearest table to prepare more tea.  The Ancient One grins and whispers, "Yes."

Strange glances over his shoulder at Mordo and then Sabrina, who only stare back silently.  Sabrina has to fight to hold back an amused smile at the awkwardness that has formed between Strange and The Ancient One.  The more time Sabrina spends with Strange, the more they can analyze him.  He carries himself as if there's a crown of gold sitting on his head, as though everybody should stop and stare at him when he passes by.  He doesn't seem to get the reminder that the world carries on, whether or not he's there.  He acts as if he knows everything, but he views the world from a closed, narrow perspective.  His own.  Sabrina wants nothing more than to knock him off of that high pedestal that he envisions himself on.

"Did you heal a man named Pangborn?" Strange inquires.  "A paralyzed man?"

"In a way," The Ancient One answers.

"You helped him to walk again."

"Yes."

"How did you correct a complete C7-C8 spinal injury?" Strange demands.  Sabrina can hear the annoyance in his voice.  The spark of anger that wouldn't need much coaxing to turn into a blaze.

"Well, I didn't correct it," The Ancient One answers calmly despite Strange's blatant annoyance.  "He couldn't walk.  I convinced him that he could."

"You're not suggesting it was psychosomatic?"

"When you reattach a severed nerve, is it you who heals it back together or the body?" The Ancient One replies, stirring honey into her tea.

"It's the cells," Strange answers.

"And the cells are only programmed to put themselves back together in specific ways," The Ancient One continues.

Strange nods.  "Right."

"What if I told you that your own body could be convinced to put itself back together in all sorts of ways?" The Ancient One asks, waving the small spoon around in loops through the air.

"You're talking about cellular regeneration," Strange replies, setting his cup down on the table.  There's a hint of awe in his voice, a spark of excitement.  But there's something else too.  Something that Sabrina knows like the back of her hand: longing.  A burning, itching desire.  "That's bleeding edge medical tech."

Sabrina only snorts softly, muttering under her breath, "Nerd."

"Hush," she hears Mordo whisper as The Ancient One crosses the room to offer him the tea while Strange continues to ramble.  The Ancient One offers a cup of tea to Sabrina will a fond smile, the kind of smile that always managed to reach her eyes—but there's always been something else there too, Sabrina thinks it's remorse. 

"Is that why you're working here?  Without a governing medical board?  I mean, just how experimental is your treatment?"

"Quite," The Ancient One answers after a split second with an uneasy smile on her face.

"So you've found a way to re-program nerve cells to self-heal?"

"No, Mr. Strange," The Ancient One replies, stepping forward to meet Strange at eye level.  "I know how to re-orient the spirit...to better heal the body."

Strange stares at her for a moment, swallows, then repeats, "The spirit to heal the body?"

"That's right." The Ancient One nods and drinks from her tea.

Strange blinks.  "I-Al-alright.  Where do we start?"

In response, The Ancient One opens the book that sits on the nearby table and opens it up to its marked page, showing the diagram to Strange.  The man only stares down at the Chakra map while The Ancient One smiles placatingly.

She cocks her head, all the while smiling.  "Don't like that map?"

"Oh no, it's really good.  It's just, I've seen it before...in gift shops," Strange responds.  There's a venom in his voice that he spits out.  The spark of anger is back.

The Ancient One only chuckles, unfazed by his spark of rage, and turns to another page in the book.  "What about this one?"

"Acupuncture," Steven deadpans.  "Great."

"What about...that one?"

Strange only rolls his eyes and turns away.  "Showing me an MRI Scan.  I do not believe this."

"Each of those maps was drawn up by someone who could see in part, but not the whole," The Ancient One explains.

Strange lets out a heavy sigh.  He's facing away from them now, with his hands pressed up against his head.  "I spent my last dollar getting here, one-way ticket," he turns back around, "and you're talking to me about healing through belief?"

"You're a man looking at the world through a keyhole," The Ancient One replies calmly.  Strange lets out a scoff.  "You spent your whole life trying to widen that keyhole...to see more, to know more.  Now, on hearing that it can be widened, in ways you can't imagine, you reject the possibility."

"No, I reject it because I do not believe in fairy tales about chakras or energy or the power of belief," Strange begins as he takes a step toward The Ancient One.  He speaks in a low undertone, but Sabrina can hear the wrath that has made its way into his voice.  The silent rage that had been building up behind his eyes has turned into a wildfire.  "There is no such thing as spirit!"

Sabrina glances up at Mordo, who bows his head with a look of regret.

"We are made of matter and nothing more.  You're just another tiny, momentary speck within an indifferent universe," Strange finishes.

"You think too little of yourself."

"Oh, you think you see through me, do you?" Strange demands, rounding on The Ancient One.  Sabrina pushes herself up from the bench, fists clenched, but before they can do anything, Mordo places a calming hand on their shoulder.  "Well, you don't.  But I see through you."

As if to prove his point, Strange jabs The Ancient One with his finger. 

Sabrina cringes.  "Ooh, rookie mistake."

Unfazed, The Ancient One grabs his wrist and presses his hand into her chest as she pushes an open palm to Strange's chest, pushing his spirit out of his physical body.  Mordo steps in, stopping Strange's body from falling to the ground with one hand as Sabrina watches Strange in the Astral Dimension, nothing more than a transparent ghost of his physical body.  They grin to themself.  He wears no crown in the Astral Dimension.  He stares down at his translucent hands in wonder.

The Ancient One raises her open palm and closes it, yanking Strange's spirit back into his physical body.  He lets out a loud gasp as his soul returns to his body with a jolt.  Mordo keeps a steadying hand on his shoulder.  "What did you just do to me?"

"I pushed your astral form out of your physical form," The Ancient One answers.

"What's in that tea?" Strange questions, glancing over at the teapot and breathing heavily.  "Psilocybin?  LSD?"

"Aw, dude, don't worry, it's literally just tea with some honey," Sabrina pipes up, "but, man, the first time she did that to me, I thought I was on some serious acid too."

Strange stares at her for a few moments, blinks, and then turns around to study his surroundings.  "What just happened?"

"For a moment, you entered the Astral Dimension," The Ancient One answers. 

"The what?" Strange asks, breathless.

"A place where the soul exists outside the body," The Ancient One responds.

"What are you doing this to me?" Strange demands.

"To show you just how much you don't know," The Ancient One responds, "Open your eye."

The Ancient One reaches up and presses her thumb against Strange's forehead.  He lets out a yell as his eyes roll into the back of his head and his body slackens as if he were a marionette and The Ancient One had cut through the strings holding him up with a pair of scissors.  Mordo once again steps in and catches Strange's body before it can hit the floor.

"His heart rate is getting dangerously high," Mordo reports as Sabrina drags over a chair for Strange's body.

"Oh, this is not going to help the acid feeling," Sabrina says.

Mordo drops his body into the chair and he awakens from his trance with a loud gasp and a strangled string.  He's covered in a light sweat, his hair has managed to get touseled as if he were standing in the middle of a wind storm, and his chest is heaving.  The Ancient One glances at him with a smile.

"He looks all right to me," she answers before sending Strange away once more.  "You think you know how the world works?  You think that this material universe is all there is?  What is real?  What mysteries lie beyond the reach of your senses?  At the root of existence, mind and matter meet.  Thoughts shape reality...this universe is only one of an infinite number.  Worlds without end...some benevolent and life-giving.  Others filled with malice and hunger.  Dark places where powers older than time lie ravenous.  And waiting...who are you in this vast multiverse, Mister Strange?"

Strange lets out a yelp as The Ancient One drags him out of his trance, tumbling out of his chair and landing on the ground on all fours at The Ancient One's feet.  This is where most people who seek Kamar-Taj can finally widen the window of the universe that they've been staring through their entire life.  This is where they choose to open the window and let the knowledge flood in.  But Strange is different.  Sabrina wonders if he'll keep the window locked forever.

"Have you seen that before in a gift shop?"  The Ancient One asks softly, coyly.

Strange's hands still shake under the weight of himself as he pushes his body up off of the ground.  He stares down at his tremoring, scarred hands, and then up to The Ancient One, still on his knees.  In those few moments, he's had a battle with himself, but eventually, his burning desire to save lives with just his hands overcomes his caution.

He stares up at The Ancient One with wide, pleading eyes.  "Teach me."

"No."

author's note: howdy and welcome to chaos theory!!  sabrina is a little shit but she's my little shit <333.  she's an absolute menace and going to be honest here, but i'm drawing some character inspiration from devi vishwakumar from never have i ever.  this chapter absolutely killed me because it is very dialogue-based and centered on stephen and the ancient one and got a lot longer than i intended it to be.  chapter lengths are gonna vary probably between 2500-3500.