➢𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗦➢

『 She's coming for you, coming for me
She's nothing, but trouble
She's walking like me, talking like me
She's my body double 』
𝐒𝐇𝐄── 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐎𝐀𝐊 ♫ !

⟶𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 13: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔⟵

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘.

HER 'BAD' SELF POINTS OUT THE CHANGE IN AESTHETIC.

"Ooo, Caitlyn" her other looks around, "this is... rustic."

"Kathmandu, Nepal..." She voices, aware of the memory—only reminding Caitlyn.

The people she refers to are the ones that make the sixteen year old's chest tight.

"And Wong and the Ancient One..."

Caitlyn finishes for her, who had been most impactful, "It was where I first met Bexley, too."

Her other self seems to be on a joyride when the seventeen-year-old is mentioned, "That's right... Bexley Nightingale. Your knight in shining armor."

"Well," she pauses, "I'm sure she'd rather be a ray of sunshine than a cold, steel moon."

Caitlyn blinks back any dampness in her eyes and simply swallows again, the back of her throat hurting—and that is not the only part of her that hurts when her other self takes over in describing, how much she meant to her, "Yeah... she was annoying at first, but when you got to know her, you felt safe with her, and the phrase opposites attract really did exist in your life. With you and Bexley."

"She was a light in my darkness," Caitlyn adds on, thinking that would be it—and it was, regarding Bexley.

Regarding Caitlyn's strong feelings for her.

"But," her doppelganger admits, "what I'm referring to, is after you hung out with her that one time, taught you how to swim... and she popped your very breakable boundary regarding your parents, to then the man who was supposed to step up and be both."

Caitlyn inhales sharply when recognizing the rainy day accompanied by Kamar-Taj, followed by her uncle's more clean-shaved look, his blue eyes focused on an iPad screen—and once again, her other self does all the talking.

Painfully, the sixteen-year-old is shuddering when the memory is introduced. "The day Stephen Strange finally came to his senses... and Doctor Strange reigned in his most important title worth more than anything in his life, as your uncle."

There is another nudge from herself, "Have fun with this one."

https://youtu.be/yxx9dGLexZI

- 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟕 -

The once-wealthy neurosurgeon, now dressed in more comfortable wear of a t-shirt and sweatpants𑁋walked by the windowsill where the rain was heard from outside, pitter-pattering against the ground at Kamar-Taj. His scarred hands which shook less, but still did wholeheartedly, took hold of two of the gifts given to him by two of the most important people in his life.

Stephen grasped tightly onto the cracked watch given to him by Christine Palmer, and then with a more delicate touch𑁋his niece's paper-mache owl was gently placed onto the table, and lifting up the keyboarded tablet on top, he began typing an email.

TO: CHRISTINE PALMER X

CHRISTINE

Stephen decided not to send that email. Instead, he strived to fix his niece. He strived to fix their broken relationship.

And, with some courage, he is downright honest with her.

"I made mistakes."

"I wasn't there."

"And, there's nothing I can do to change what's already happened..." Disappointment reeked in his tone, in himself, and when Stephen looked up, he eyed the fourteen-year-old in front of him with much pain as pure devastation uncontrollably overcame her features.

Caitlyn began to lose control of her emotions.

His next words were completely heartfelt, as never felt another way through it all, through everything they had been through, "But you are my family, and I care about you, so much..."

"So, if you'd let me... and like I said," the man doesn't push, he remained cautious as he restated what had been said before, what was true, "I can't fix the way things panned out between us."

What he then said was also true.

"But I'd like to be here for you now... if you'd let me."

He meant it.

Fourteen-year-old Caitlyn Strange was about to experience a breakdown because of it.

"Sometimes, it's hard," her eyes had rolled up into her head as a droplet of water fell from her bottom eyelash, trying to keep it all in, "For me..."

She couldn't.

Stephen stayed a good distance away, aware of her spatial issues, respectful—and nodded as if granting her permission to continue talking. That it was okay.

That it's okay.

It was those safe and warm reassurances from Stephen's caring stance that undoubtedly provoked the teenage girl, to finally just let it out—her feelings, and she finished quickly. 

There was so much pain rising up inside both the two remaining Stranges at this confession, Caitlyn's brave confession, that, "Sometimes, it's hard to feel."

Her struggle was a personal one. She also struggled emotionally.

"Ugh!"

Flashes of physical torture ignited her movements, and she brought a short-sleeved arm up to press her face into it𑁋Caitlyn scolded herself, "I hate crying."

"I'm such a baby."

It had all been built up, triggered thankfully by this interaction and repair, but it is still too much... and the troubled youth wasn't able to hold everything back. In the end, she didn't have to, though, because it just isn't her being alone anymore. Stephen was there, her uncle, and he inarguably was going to be there for the rest of his life, no matter what.

Stephen walked up to her, laid a hand on her shoulder, and then, pulled Caitlyn close to him.

He held her in a much-needed, though long awaited𑁋embrace. Caitlyn caved, leaning into the comfort Stephen provided, and once her head is buried into the warmth of his chest𑁋let it all out. Her sobs were quiet at first, the girl registering that this was actually what it felt like to release a sea of emotions from the past six years... the feeling of relief shortly overcame her, and it was comforting.

Smaller arms had wind around Stephen's tall frame and clung to him. A gasp of cries relentlessly exited the body of the young girl in his care, only making more of an aching feeling course throughout the uncle more intensely, for he had never heard sounds of such from his niece... and he never wants to again.

Gentle hands moved up and down the fourteen year old's back in a calming manner, and Stephen with a low voice soothingly comforted her, "It's all right... it's okay... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Lynn."

He apologized to her and promised that it was okay to cry. It was okay to be vulnerable.

And Caitlyn... for once, wanted to cry. Just so that she could be held by him.

Her uncle. Her father.

Her Uncle Stephen, who she needed so badly.

Caitlyn Strange's cheeks become wet as a few trails of tears fall down them. She watches this memory play out in its entirety, instantly remembering the feeling of warmth radiating off of Stephen's chest—how gently he held her, rubbed her back, and made her feel safe. Made her feel warm.

The arms she tries to wrap around herself now are nothing but cold. The inside of Caitlyn is... cold. The sixteen-year-old never thought she'd be at a place where she'd desire physical contact. But, she does, and instead... isn't able to fulfill that request.

Her other self, like always, ruins the moment, "Well, that's a real tear-jerker. Literally."

Part of her face does seem touched though.

"Seriously, you should cry more often..." Other Caitlyn says.

The real one just brings a hand up to her face, getting caught on the skin as she brushes away some tears.

Her other self continues, "Anywho, you're about to be crying for what's next in store... what is next on the channel, if you catch my drift."

Her narration never ceases, "Of your life."

"It's the day everything REALLY changed."

However, upon realizing what she meant, Caitlyn instantly grows uncomfortable. 

She sniffles, disliking how emotional she sounded and clogged with all the fluid leaking from her, and insisting with every last ounce of strength she's got—it comes out weak, "No... I can't."

Like a plea.

One her merciless counterpart will not accept.

"Oh, Caitlyn..." she stands behind her again, evilly smiling, "but yes."

"Yes, you can."

The blonde is then pushed into another memory.

The most recent one.

The worst one, ever.

https://youtu.be/HSfFXVLh5fo

- 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟏𝐬𝐭, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 -

On the planet Titan... a portal opened up.

Spawned from the power of the Space Stone, Thanos the Mad Titan stepped out with a very serene look on his face, ready to achieve his main goal. Ready to attain the next Infinity Stone.

Not without a fight.

The plan created by Starlord and hashed out by the remaining Guardians and Earth-superheroes almost worked. Peter had it. He had the Infinity Gauntlet. They got it. They've got it. But... they didn't.

Thanos continued walking Tony back, having just stabbed him in the chest, until he was sitting, and placing a large hand as some form of sick comfort, the titan admitted, "You have my respect, Stark. When I'm done, half of humanity will still be alive."

He let go and straightened, preparing to use the stones to kill, "I hope they remember you."

Iron Man was in so much pain that he reacted very little to the impending death he thought he was about to endure—too early—and for once, patiently waited for it all to be over. To join the afterlife. For Thanos to raise that gauntlet, closing his fist, all four Stones glowing... for Caitlyn to appear behind him—wait.

NO.

Tony wasn't able to get the words out, so when Caitlyn Strange snuck up behind Thanos, he was taken off guard. Startled, and in possession of an enormous amount of power. A power that non-sequentially came with consequences.

Consequences Stephen Strange's niece had to endure even after the endgame.

"... You... will never win—! Hi-ya!"

Reality.

WHOOSH!

Reality is different.

"CAITLYN!" Her uncle's horrified voice echoed out.

Reality. Everything was different.

She was different.

Unnoticeably now but indefinitely forever.

The fifteen-year-old blonde's body crashed down onto the floor, unconscious as the amount of wreckage just projected onto her form tortured her in other ways.

It still tortures her. Now is the time when Caitlyn Elizabeth Strange has trouble breathing.

She is overwhelmed, and overstimulated, and yet again—when it came to people's emotions, her other self didn't seem to give two shits.

She instead speaks rapidly, analyzing the memory, "Okay, I think I've got it. You've always been special, born for the mystic arts, just like your uncle, but you had something more... to give."

She analyzes Caitlyn.

"You had anger, you had sadness... but underneath all of that, you were strong."

Who is freaking out.

"You were different," her red-outfitted doppelganger continues, hand on her chin—meanwhile, Caitlyn's are on both her knees, "and you couldn't really pinpoint what it was."

She feels like vomiting.

"You still can't."

The constant replay of all her most traumatic moments simply becomes too much for her to bear, and in-between shallow breaths, wheezy inhales and choppy exhales, her other self still has the will to keep interrogating her. She keeps torturing her. She had the audacity.

Something the current Caitlyn would never do.

But her bad half, unbothered, asks her, "So... I ask you, Caitlyn. How?"

"How did you get intertwined with the world's most powerful sorcerer?"

Caitlyn tries to breathe but chokes, a noise of pain escaping her as panic surges through her trembling body, "I don't know..."

"I can't..." She has trouble with the words, but she forces them to come—a bile-less gag following, "I just wanna go home. Back to Uncle Stephen, back to Bexley—Wong, I—!"

"No!" her other self snaps at her, nearing closer and not able to be eye-to-eye due to the sixteen-year-old on another level—Caitlyn looks down at the floor. "Not until you figure this out, do you understand me!?"

Her other self barks the truth, she hates to admit, "What good are you to them if you can't even get a hold of yourself, Caitlyn!"

"It is now... or never!"

But the blondie knows one thing, she is sick of watching a show about her life.

Caitlyn screams with red eyes both on her irises and around the skin of her lids, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!"

"Just THINK!" the doppelganger retorts back, and with it, her tone recedes as well.

Because she did it. She finally got through to her.

"Remember... how did you get inside Westview? Inside the Hex."

"You want to remember..." She tells her.

"I want to remember..." Caitlyn repeats, both sets of fingernails on her hands digging into her hair.

Then soon, she takes them out.

"I remember."

https://youtu.be/t45g0E1Z6cE

- 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 -

𝐅 𝐈 𝐕 𝐄     𝐃 𝐀 𝐘 𝐒     𝐀 𝐆 𝐎

The New York Sanctum was empty when the hole the Hulk made ended up costing most of the space. When a cold winter was soon to enter, the place was mostly vacant as the conditions were not livable. But for Caitlyn, she needed to be there. It was home.

She hadn't been herself lately. And following the final battle on Earth, it had only gotten worse.

She heard voices, or they were whispers—telling her to do terrible things. Sometimes, it was her own voice, trying to convince her to take part in these awful crimes, but others? She heard someone else. One day, Caitlyn's psychic mind radio picked up on another channel, one of a grieving, powerful woman.

She wails, falling to the ground when realizing that, officially, she was all alone. Her only family was dead.

So, inherently, Wanda decides to bring him back to life.

She, with the power of the Mind Stone inside her, the power she holds as a mythical being, reached inside her heart and pulled out the life she's always wanted—the happy ending. And Caitlyn finally saw this as an opportunity to escape into the real world.

Wanda formed the Hex around Westview, New Jersey, and since that was Caitlyn's hometown, was sought as a place of comfort—an initial one. The sixteen-year-old, after tossing and turning in bed, feels possessed by red veins as a reaction to the reality stone pounds against her skin, and Caitlyn is in pain. She screams, one that is guttural—and after that, grows still.

Her eyes open and someone else takes over.

Standing, and, well, using her body, this 'other' version of herself seems to take a physical form, her physical form, and promptly using her skills as a mystic artist as well, lifts her hand and spawns a portal leading straight through into Westview. Caitlyn really was a talented sorcerer.

She leaves the New York Sanctum, her uncle and best friend behind and enters Westview, on her own accord. By her own free will.

Except... that wasn't Caitlyn.

The portal was red, a darker color than the bright, good-natured orange. It was evil. Suddenly everything seemed like that, Caitlyn's feelings, Caitlyn's emotions, and when it came to Wanda... now she understands. Wanda sensed Caitlyn's presence and chose to protect her by casting her on her show, because better than anyone, she knew she was troubled.

Casting her parents, and putting her through that trauma, was something Caitlyn did to herself.

And now, at this moment, how she got here... was also, something, she did to herself. But, how?

She didn't want this.

She lost control.

But, upon realizing this, she becomes frightened—questioning... What was her role to be post WandaVision? Back to the Troubled Youth?

The Troubled Woman... the accomplice of the Scarlet Witch.

"Wow, so you were right. You are definitely something else."

Her doppelganger circles her, let in by entering Westview—but stopped momentarily, thanks to Wanda's influence, "Something... incorrigible."

She wastes no time confirming her involvement, though, "And luckily, I was the one who did all the heavy lifting."

Caitlyn inhales heavily, and then, turning around, at last, puts it all together, "It was... it was you who brought me here."

"It was you." She says to her alternate self.

Who replies with a sinister smile, "Guilty as charged."

"I mean I didn't study at Kamar-Taj and learn how to conjure a portal," She walks in another circle around Caitlyn, "but the other part? About using the amplified power of the reality stone, yeah, I did that."

"Why?" Caitlyn asks her and doesn't give her a chance to respond.

No, she's done enough talking, now it is her turn.

She has an eager desire to know, "You want to see the world burn... but why?"

Tracking her earlier words, still trying to get to the bottom of things. Only, the other blondie's answer is one she does not like.

It is one she is confused by.

"Because that's what you want, isn't it?"

Caitlyn twists her neck, along with it, her brows and nose, and quickly works to disprove that, "No. What are you talking about? I've got people... I've got them. I don't—"

She didn't need to see that, see others in pain—it was an old friend.

But, painfully, her consciousness was not. "Hmm, you see, it's your destiny, Caitlyn Strange. Ever since that fateful day on Titan, against Thanos... you know that deep down, I'm right."

It was mean-spirited. "You know that deepest, you wanna make everyone pay, make life pay... for your sufferings!"

"From what has been taken away from YOU!"

Caitlyn shudders again, backing away.

Her red-costumed self gets rid of her cloke and tosses it to the side, the sentimentality inside Caitlyn—as well as a means for comfort—running back over to find it, only for it to dissipate in her hands. Everything around her also disappears into white flurries, and then she is back in the white void room.

She remains facing away from her other self for just a moment, before, confronting her—as well as her old thoughts, "Maybe, at one point in time, that was true. But, I don't think like that anymore. I wanna help people. I'm... better."

Caitlyn remembers her anger against the world. The general unhappiness felt like a pit in the bottom of her stomach, but, thanks to everyone—she was proud to not feel that way anymore. To have overcome her previous self. It wasn't likely she'd ever show it, but, never, would Caitlyn EVER agree with the philosophy her other self seemingly preaches as God. No. It is wrong. Killing people is wrong. Unless they hurt you really bad.

She turns to her other self, "I'm not you."

Who claps, cynically, "Nice speech. Heartwarming... but are you being honest with yourself?"

"Are you... for real?"

She steps forward, and Caitlyn steps back.

"Are you real?" She asks, shortening the phrase, and with it—comes a haunting horror.

Caitlyn was overwhelmed. Especially when the other half starts to dust just like half the universe did five years ago.

Her immoral voice remains in her ear, "Is this... real?"

Is this real? Caitlyn has to ask herself, and unfortunately, it was only going to get worse.

She will never be the same again.

✦✦✦

She is horrified. Absolutely, unequivocally, horrified. And she screams. Caitlyn Strange screams yet no sound comes out of her real body, because it was all inside her head. The spell, the hell that she put on for herself, but somehow, she fears that there really is someone else in there controlling her—inside her head. It was satanic. 

Apropos of that, the teenager obviously had a lot of recovering to do, healing that she wasn't sure could take place at Kamar-Taj due to the risk she may pose to other sorcerers. Due to the risk of herself, and the worst part of her that was trying to split: her apathy.

With no empathy or emotion to guide her, would result in chaos at the end—with only one true goal in mind, to make others suffer. But Wanda wouldn't stand for that, right? She hopes not.

Nevertheless, Caitlyn is trapped, inside a shell of herself. Not her former one, never again, but also not the one she had most recently become. Caitlyn is not that girl anymore. No longer a troubled youth.

No... the only trouble is in her mind.

And she needs to get it out.

Right now, however, she needs to get out of this dungeon, and with Wanda and Agatha not there anymore—the runes still hold the spell on Caitlyn's wrists tight. She is kept in place.

She finally loses hope when succumbing to exhaustion, and not having very much of it in the first place, Caitlyn begins to cry.

That is when she hears a voice, one light, and airy. "Caitlyn."

https://youtu.be/Jbnpv6gLzOk

Assuming she is at the end of her rope, more tears fall from the blondie's lips, believing the voice of Bexley Nightingale was nothing but a mere hallucination—a fake reality.

But no, back in the real world, it calls again, "Caitlyn!"

It calls for her, sounding distant, but then, much closer—like a shout.

"CAITLYN!"

Pale blue, wet eyes pop open, and with a gaped expression, still sitting down, the sixteen-year-old looks around—desperately trying to pinpoint the sound. "Caitlyn, where are you? It's me!"

"... Bexley?"

Her suspicions are easily confirmed to be correct when the scenery around her doesn't change, and Caitlyn realizes, this isn't a trick. Her mind is done playing tricks on her.

But her best friend is not done finding her.

So, to help, she yells back, "Bexley!"

Desperately, "BEXLEY!"

A fluttery sensation warps inside of Caitlyn when the large wall of the dungeon is torn off, a blue aura wrapping around it, and a sweaty Dani Rogers is the one responsible.

An eager Bexley Nightingale slips past her, the seventeen-year-old with purple streaks in her long black hair running and not stopping until reaching the side of her best friend—things becoming more real when she has both hands on her, touching her, helping her up. "Caitlyn!"

The sixteen-year-old is able to stand and, wobbly, watches with disbelief as Bexley stumbles toward her.

Familiar hands move from her shoulders to the purple-misty cuffs on her wrists, and one of the runes having been destroyed by their entrance, Bexley takes no effort in dismantling the rest of the spell—freeing Caitlyn.

Who asks her, a shocked look on her face, "Bex, how did you get in here?"

"We came to rescue you." The seventeen-year-old says, more focused on checking her for any other wounds than her actual question—and beyond that, she is seeing her again.

She wastes no time in bringing the blondie close and hugging her, in a warm embrace.

Caitlyn is a puddle of emotions in her arms, "You did? Why?"

She has to ask these questions, to assure that everything that was happening right now, was happening. Because if it wasn't, Caitlyn isn't sure she'd be able to go on.

Luckily, Bexley pulls her back, and still holding both of her shoulders, she shakes them when confirming—a smile on her brown-eyed face, "Because you're the person in this world that means the most to me."

Then, moving her hands to her face, Bexley grabs Caitlyn's before firmly pressing her lips onto her own—in a long-awaited kiss.

The two of them kiss one another.

The moment isn't stolen, it's perfect. The two who met a few years ago always had something more going on under the surface, and upon finally recognizing it—they soak in the moment of being reunited with one another again.

They soak it up before Dani interrupts.

The eighteen-year-old is unaware she is ruining a moment, only when noticing the two girls close to one another, and then her green eyes are widening when realizing that is what's going on.

"Guys, we better get going." Her tone is serious, "We don't know when she's gonna come back."

The two pull away and stare at one another intensely, blue eyes accompanying chocolate brown—and for one last good measure, Bexley leans in close.

Bexley whispers to Caitlyn, still holding her face, "I got you."

And, not for the first time, the troubled youth believed her.

✦✦✦

Happy almost pride month <3