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Sasha Zachary Fletcher was crying again.
Her foster brother Harry said she was always crying, but he was six and still found it a very efficient way to communicate one’s feelings. Sasha didn’t like to cry. It always made her tired and shaky and dangerous, but everything was so so so scary and she couldn’t help it.
The door had a doorknocker that hadn’t been there in the photos. Sasha thought, when she climbed the steps with shaky knees, that it would be far too high for her to reach—but when she got to the door, the knocker was right at her shoulder level. It was heavy and shaped like a dragon. Sasha liked dragons.
It made her feel a little bolder, and she swallowed another sob building in her throat and knocked.
The big door swallowed the sound. Sasha shifted from foot to foot, furiously scrubbing at her face. She was getting a sunburn on the back of her neck.
“I swear, Tony, if you think I’m going to just magically not be busy if you show up at my door then—oh.”
Sasha looked up at the figure in the doorway, with his black hoodie and red cloak and confused expression, and burst back into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I just—I’m sorry.”
The man, who just had to be Stephen Strange, had to be, looked superbly uncomfortable. “Um. Ah. It’s okay. Are you lost?”
“No,” Sasha sobbed. “I came here on the subway.”
“You came here on purpose?”
Sasha nodded shakily. “I saw you on the news. You’re magic.”
“Right. Yes. I am. I—why don’t you come in?”
Sasha scurried through the door when he opened it wider, hiding her face in her hands. She peeked through her fingers at the space around her. It was… bigger than it should be. Everything glowed with the luster of age, and the floor was a colorful mosaic that seemed to shift and wave to her when she entered.
“Oh.” Sasha forgot to be scared. “You live here?”
“When I’m not being hauled upstate by a one-armed idiot, yes,” said Strange. His cloak waved to her. “How old are you?”
Sasha sniffled. “Ten.”
“Do your parents know you’re here, Sasha?”
Sasha didn’t remember telling Strange her name. “My foster mum thinks I’m at school,” Sasha said, wiping her eyes. “But I can’t go to school, I can’t go anywhere!”
Strange knelt down in front of her. He was still taller than her, but he smiled, and the mosaic floor swirled around his knees. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Just tell me why you came here, and we’ll see what I can do.”
Sasha took a deep, deep breath. She’d never told anyone about this, and she was still terrified she was the monster her foster brother had nightmares about.
“I think I have powers,” she whispered.
Strange blinked. He sat down heavily, and something in his expression changed. “What kind of powers?” he asked.
Sasha stared. “You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you,” Strange snorted. “I’m a fu—freaking sorcerer for a living and I’m forced to deal with half the enhanced individuals in the world every other weekend.”
Sasha felt stupid and nodded aggressively. Her vision was blurring again, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes.
“What can you do?” Strange asked.
“I can… make people feel things,” Sasha mumbled. “If they’re happy, I can make them happier. If they’re scared, I can make them scared-er. I can make them less happy or less scared, too.”
Strange hummed. Sasha saw him nod through her fingers. “Soothing or intensifying preexisting emotions. Try it now.”
“What?”
“Try it now. With me,” Strange said. “I’ll lower my shields, here.”
He didn’t do anything visible, but Sasha straightened when she could suddenly sense him, in the way she still wasn’t quite used to. She perceived mostly curiosity. That didn’t seem too dangerous, so Sasha… Encouraged it.
The lights in the room dimmed. They always did that when she Encouraged people. Strange looked up at them, his eyes shining with interest, and then he grinned at Sasha.
“I could feel you doing it, but I am very practiced at mental magic. You’re not very subtle, but you could definitely learn to be.”
Sasha blinked. “... Learn to be?”
Strange’s face flickered. “Oh. Right. Of course, Sasha. You came so I would get rid of this, didn’t you?”
Sasha nodded weakly. “Mr. Strange—”
Strange winced, and his Cloak twitched. “Doctor, please,” he corrected. “It’s okay if you call me a man, but I don’t identify with certain titles. And I can help you get rid of your powers, if you really want me to. I can put a wall between you and these senses, and unless you push it down, you’ll never be able to influence anyone again.”
“That’s better, right?” Sasha asked. The lights had started to glow their normal brightness again. “It’s evil to mess with people’s minds if they don’t want you to.”
“You’re not evil, Sasha,” Strange said seriously. “Nothing makes you evil except your actions. And you haven’t done anything to hurt anyone on purpose.”
Sasha shook her head slowly. “I’d never do anything to hurt anyone.”
Strange smiled. “See? You’re a good kid. You’re just special—it’s up to you if it’s in a good way or a bad way. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get rid of your powers, though. Whatever you think is best.”
No one had ever asked Sasha what she thought was best before. She shifted on her feet, swallowing hard.
She remembered when she’d Soothed Mr. Prince’s anger so he wouldn’t hit Jennifer. She remembered when she’d leaned over the edge of her bunk to Encourage Harry’s calm so he’d stop crying in his sleep. She remembered Encouraging her friend’s determination so she got her homework in on time.
“I want to keep them,” Sasha said. She was crying again.
Strange tugged on her elbow to make her sit down in front of them. “Good job, Sasha,” they said. “That’s a very hard thing to decide.”
Sasha sobbed and nodded.
Strange waved a hand, and Sasha saw it was crisscrossed with violent scars. In a puff of golden light, a handkerchief appeared between Sasha’s fingers. She blew noisily into it.
“I’m scared,” Sasha admitted. “I’m stupid and scared and I cry all the time.”
Strange shushed her softly. “I think you’re very brave,” they said. “You were scared but you knew you needed help, so you came here to find me.”
“I’m sorry, you said you were busy.”
“It’s fine,” Strange assured. “Listen, there’s a couple of things you need to promise me if you’re going to walk out of here with extra-human abilities, okay?”
“Okay…”
“You have control now. And control is very easy to let go too far,” Strange told her. They trailed their scarred finger along the mosaic floor beneath them, the tiles changing color where they touched. “People are going to make you angry, and people are going to make you sad. Things are going to happen that you wish you could change. You’re going to run up against walls of rules and wish the rules didn’t apply to you.
“And you have the power, now, to change that. To make it so the rules don’t apply to you, to take revenge against the people who hurt or anger you.”
They spoke clearly, looking at her like she was a grown-up. Trusting her to understand. Sasha dried her tears and sat up to listen.
“But you need to remember,” Strange said, “what you said to me today. That you’d never do anything to hurt people. There are ethics in the world; people have the right to feel what they feel and act on those feelings, unless it directly harms another person. And even that is a little… hand-wavy. But I’d use that as your measuring-stick.”
“My what?”
“Your measuring-stick on whether or not it’s okay to use your powers. If you’re stopping someone from causing harm, you can do it. If you want to help someone directly, I would say to ask them. ‘Can I make you happier? Can I stop you having bad dreams?’ If they say yes, go for it. And if they say no?”
“Then I don’t,” Sasha said emphatically. “Because they are free to feel however they need to.”
Strange smiled. “Exactly, Sasha.”
Sasha smiled back at them with all her missing teeth. “Thank you Doctor Strange.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Strange said, looking uncomfortable again.
There was silence for a moment. The Cloak fidgeted idly on Strange’s shoulders, and Sasha couldn’t help but watch it. When another voice, low and rumbling, burst through the space, Sasha jumped.
“Stephen! What in Vishanti’s name are you doing? The rift isn’t getting any smaller you know.” The voice sounded grumpy.
“I’m busy, Wong!” Strange yelled to nothing in particular that Sasha could see. “Something came up. Nothing’s overactive yet, right? No life or energy crossing dimensional barriers?”
“All is still quiet.”
“Then shut up and let me work.” They turned back to Sasha. “Do you… want some milk or something?”
“I’m lac-toes intolerant,” Sasha told them carefully.
Strange snorted. “Good to know. Tea, then?”
Sasha shook her head. “I have to go pick up Harry. We walk home from school together.”
Strange nodded and stood from the floor. They helped her to her feet, and she was careful to grab their wrist and not their hand.
“Take my card,” Strange said, and Sasha found herself holding a cream-colored business paper with gold lettering. “If you ever have any questions, feel free to contact me. I wish I could give you all your answers now, but I can’t. And this… well. My Sanctum isn’t the safest place for kids to stay these days, but you can come by if you need.”
Sasha nodded so hard her teeth rattled. “Thank you, I understand.”
She tucked the card carefully into her pocket and turned toward the door. The mosaic on the floor fluttered and shifted in a friendly goodbye. Sasha shyly waved to it. It looked delighted. Strange grumbled something under their breath behind her, and the floor shifted into a caricature pattern of Strange and stuck out its tongue.
“Hey!”
Sasha laughed, and the door swung open lightly beneath her fingertips. As she stepped out into the sunny weather outside, she thought she heard Wong speak.
“Someone should start a resource center for them. Children that develop powers or are smart enough to build bombs that would wipe out half of Manhattan in their backyard.”
Strange hummed, and Sasha felt their amusement before they put up their shields again.
“Yes,” Strange said. “Someone should.”
Three weeks later, Sasha got a letter in the mail.
‘Just in case,’ it said in shaky, careful letters. Inside was a website address.
It lead to the page for the Maria Stark Foundation’s new, preliminary, and completely anonymous Fletcher Project.