Chapter Text
He won..
The greatest, most powerful Sorcerer, Doctor Stephen Strange.
It was one. One spell left on his forehead.
Strange really took it all out on himself. Beating his own self senselessly to clear away all the protection spells off of his own face.
"No."
He sounded pathetic and spent, his body having given up fighting. Closing his eyes, waiting for the end to come. But before his alternate self could wipe off the last spell, Stephen opened his eyes once more and spoke at the sight of his demented self. Pale, thin, sunken cheeks. The circle under his eyes darkened from the sleepless centuries of just absorbing power and nothing more.
All of it just for Christine.
His voice hoarse, trying to speak with all he could, desperate to knock sense into himself once more. "When everything's gone, what will you give her?"
The all powerful sorcerer's hand paused, pulling away. "Everything." His other self replied, a voice of certainty. "I can. Fix . Everything… And I will fix everything." There was a low growl at the end of his tone.
"And you'll let her live in a lie? Let her live an illusion just as you did to me?" Stephen told… to himself.
This twisted version of himself became powerful and as powerful as he could ever imagine. Having a recollection of those battle they just had, where reality around was morphed to darkness, to a fiery and oozing-ink scape that then transformed into a room that he once had lived in.
It felt so real. He could feel the warmth of the morning sun that shines through the apartment's window, giving Christine an ethereal glow under its light. He almost believed that she was actually alive. Her touch was real. Her skin soft just as he remembers, her voice soothing its way to his broken heart.
"We could be together again"
But those words made him break out in a trance.
"I love you, Stephen."
A sweet lie. A bitter memory and a bitter truth that he has to accept; looking through the deception of sweet illusions, the face of the woman he loved morphed and showed its true face. Just like those fairytails and legends where men were deceived by beautiful women, only revealing themselves if they see through the Fey's lie.
A faerie of sorts that morphs their reality around them, full of deceit and sweet words of lie. It is what the dark sorcerer just did to Stephen, now looming above him with no words to utter. Unblinking and unforgiving. Old but young, his soul wrong and twisted. They may be separate but he could feel it. No longer a man nor a sorcerer. They just are. A being that is just alive for its sake. No longer human. Stephen wonders, is he still the same man? When the power he wields is no longer that of a magic user?
"Ever thought of what Wong might think?" He gasps out. Unsure as to why that was his first thought.
Finally, through the long silence the other spoke. The same voice he knows, yet, it is out of place. Voices speaking with him as one.
" Wong, won't understand, he never will. He's the same as the ancient one. They were both getting in our way of bringing back Christine." Supreme said their name in such spite as if they're the very reason it all went wrong.
Stephen scoffed, tired of trying to reason with himself quite literally. "What's not getting into your head? We lost the only one we loved and cared for. Dead for years- have you ever even thought of the person that stayed with us all the time?" Anger clouded his mind that it had given him enough strength to lunge at the looming figure forward but appendages rose out of the ground like phantoms and kept him down. " I told Wong that at the very least I could do was to save him!" The grips of the smooth appendages tightens every time Stephen struggles. "You only thought about yourself and the woman we loved that is long dead!" One of the tentacles grabbed his neck and tightened it there. "-atleast… think of how disappointed he will be…" forcing these words out when the grip was choking him.
" Enough ." The sorcerer's voice echoed.
"She's gone. You can't save-" his voice wavered, choking up on his own tears as he lay still on the ground. He hadn't cried in such a long time. And he hasn't shown this side of vulnerability. With little strength, his torso moved upright slightly, elbows raising his back off the ground. Staring directly at his own eyes, his own self standing above him. Broken, Arrogant. Deranged .
"Fine… let's see how she'll love you after all this."
The other Strange, didn't like that tone coming out of his own mouth.
Stephen was irritated at what they had to endure. Pathetic and face wet from tears, vulnerable and hurt. No more runes to protect himself any longer, no cape to fly him away. Waiting to be done. Supreme's lips quivered when he had nothing to answer to his own words, not even a pitiful excuse. The tentacles tightened once more. The dark figure loomed closer to his own face, staring at their upsetting image of each other. Finally Strange wiped off the last remaining spell on his forehead, face glowed of fire and gold. Finally absorbing himself to be whole.
He's finally whole again.
Opening the eye of Agamotto he puts all his might to reach it beyond its limit. The stone's brightly green, emerald color now turning to deep red. It wasn't the stone of time anymore, it was chaos . The tint of red overcoming the greens, every soul, every being inside him swirled like storms, their chaos, their powers as one. Memories flashed through his eyes, his grief over his sister, the trauma he went through, the time he met Christine, her smile, her touch, every moments they had together, then her death.
He's full of anger, no one listened to him, no one understood him. All the memories of those know it all angered him, their ignorance and the Ancient one's hypocrisy. Wong's-
Stephen suddenly hesitated… He was finally whole, complete and one. But something switched from the back of his head. He stares at his shaking hands, he was out of his focus that it delayed his use of the stone.
Do it…
We're close to our goal…
Do it…
It might have been his other self that had finally knocked a sense in his mind once more. For centuries he didn't hesitate, he didn't stop but somehow Wong's name made him pause. Made him think . Then finally he contemplated after for so long. Stephen growled and cursed at himself. The open eye stayed open, ready to fix it all. To end his suffering. To bring back Christine. Build her a world anew. Fitting and perfect for her.
But hands still hovered over the Agamotto. The stone waiting to be changed and used out of what it's supposed to do. Beyond its own power and intent of use. Stephen struggled to settle on a choice and tried to keep his eyes tearing from rheumy. He hated it. He hated his sudden change of mind and hesitation. He stays, hoping he would return to his goal if he were to just brush off these thoughts away. The eye's still open, stone glowing brightly, the deep bright reds dissipates slowly back to its gentle, bright colored green it once was.
No, he must continue. No god heard his pleas and prayers, he must step up as one and do what they couldn't to those who have suffered.
God. With what he could do now, would he count as one? A God amongst men? Stephen grumbled, letting out a sigh of defeat under his breath as he drops both his hands, the Agamotto finally dims. Stephen growled, the sorcerer lashed out screaming in frustration. He's so tired, just so, so tired…
Slowly, Stephen gazed at the crash where it all began. Where Christine's body lies lifeless inside the vehicle. Having done this a thousand times, the devastating scene before his very eyes no longer bothered him. He would turn back time anyway.
From the long silence, Stephen slowly approaches the car like he was being lured. He then stood there staring at his lover's soulless body, her head smashed against the front, face filled with shattered glass, head dented from the impact. An awful sight.
Staring at her for far too long, his vision adjusts until he saw himself in the reflection of the shattered door window…
He now had just noticed how awful he looked. Thin, pale and eyes shrunken with dark circles. Stephen looked more like a completely different person than he was before. He looked like a mad man, made him wonder if he was still the Dr. Stephen Strange . He was supposed to be a doctor that helps people.
-your marbles are long gone-
His other half had exclaimed. He wondered: would Christine still love him for what he is now? The things he had done just to bring her back? No… she could never forgive him for that. But he could change. He could always return to his old self, reverse it. As if nothing had happened.
But if all is indeed gone, would he still make Christine live in a lie? No . He can always, always fix it. There's always a way. Why else would the spell exist in the books? How else could the author have known? The author must have succeeded. Stephen groans, he was gaslighting himself at this point. He could have asked O'Beign about it but instead he hid for centuries in the dark while the other grew old and frail, living a life that Stephen never wondered to ask.
He then begun to remember a few who doesn't know Christine and understand what she truly is to him and to his life. The reason he did what he had to do. Stephen felt upset and troubled by this. The dark sorcerer was angry at the Ancient One for being a hypocrite, she drew her powers from the dark dimension to extend her life but when Stephen breaks the rules, he crossed the line. Then Wong…
The damaged sorcerer paused at the thought of that one person. He had forgotten the reason of his hesitation of using the Eye of Agamotto. But Stephen shook his head, too petty to admit defeat. As if he wanted to stay angry at these sorcerers.
-at the very least to save you-
Another one of those words, a deep memory echoing at the back of his head. Wong. Wong is his friend, his partner . The memories of the man's smile appears in his mind, the gentle voice, their lingering touches of each other, and their silent gazes. Stephen felt his heart drop for the first time. What has he done?
The sorcerer remembers now, Wong was waiting for Stephen at the Sanctum. Waiting for him to come home .
For the first time in centuries, he felt pain for someone else. All that he had thought ill of Wong and the ancient one was twisted to keep convincing his already broken mind that they were all wrong and pathetically ignorant. And thinking back properly now, Stephen couldn't really think of anything bad from them at all… they did make some mistake, but it was for a good reason. A good reason for the safety of others. Something he did the opposite of.
Stephen's memories of Wong packed his mind, a familiar warm reminder that was no longer Christine. He looked down at the cold ground, unknowingly smiling to himself, those fond memories of Stephen wishing to make Wong react to his god awful jokes, just to see those smile and hear those deep, warm, and gentle laugh. Even recalling the time when he left a sticky note in one of the pages of Wong's book that says:
'One day I will make you smile, Wong. One day.
- Dr. Strange'
Oh how Wong grumbled about the sticky note on his paper. Yet catching a glimpse of a smirk on his partner's lip.
Oh Wong… What have I done?
Stephen fell on his knees with both hands holding his head. He so wished that these memories and sudden regret would cease spiraling in his head. Only now he acknowledges how Wong cares so much for him. How much the duo would always have each other's back, even if they bicker at times. Bantering and chatting as if they were some sort of odd couple. Stephen Strange was always so reckless but Wong was his voice of reason.
It hurts, the regret and misery was invading his mind. The pain, the realization. Stephen cried . The ground beneath him rumbled, his voice echoed wrong. The wailing cries didn't sound like his anymore. He cried and cried, pleading for the recollections of the past to stop.
"Stop! Make it stop!" He begged, hitting his head with the palm of his hand. The voices mocked, pain and regret filled his heart. They all laughed at his misery. He screamed one last time but creating an impact, the sheer force of his voice and ungodly power caused the ground to shake and split. He let it all out, his frustration, his anger, his pain.
He let them all out until it exhausted him, Stephen fell to the ground and wept there. Silently. Whimpering like the pathetic man he is. Guilty and terrified.
What had been done… cannot be undone.
His actions are unforgivable.
In the long awful silence and whimpers, Stephen twitched at a cold drip on his face. To two, three until it drips to many more; It was starting to rain. By coincidence or because it was his doing, but the sky wept. Stephen stayed there, cold, soaked and miserable on the ground.
After several minutes of letting all his tears out he exhaled. The broken, ashamed sorcerer stopped weeping and recollecting but instead was thinking.
Thinking of going back home.
The sudden determination to set all things right filled his chest. Stephen then stood, the rain growing stronger. He could hear the sirens going off in the distance, ambulances from afar arriving towards the crash sight. For one last time he activated his stone again.
This time, going home.
《¤》
Stephen came back to the Sanctum Santorum in his main time but it is all now bloched in ink like matter. The world was disappearing, what his other half had said was true. The world is in danger, and it's all because of him. He stares unblinking, he remembered this purge like disaster in books.
An incursion.
One of the books he read mentioned it, two worlds colliding in one. Stephen's brain played a memory of his other self, the ancient one explaining what she had to do by splitting timelines, letting two alternate occurrences happen in one universe. She knew the risk, but he understood. She had no other way to stop him. So in this case, instead of a multiverse colliding, it was a collision of two timelines in one universe.
He lets out a shaky breath, he continued to walk and upstairs of the Sanctum, and once again the place gave a feel of nostalgia, Stephen looked around for a look-see. Reminiscing about how he came to be.
After looking around he then sees the chair where he would always sit, to watch the rain tap and run down the round window, to see life waking every sunrise, to awe at the beauty of the dawn, then the starry night time with its peaceful silence.
He remembers enjoying the afternoons where the clouds rolls by, watching clueless people passing just below where people they moved on without a care or worry, ignorant of the hidden dangers outside the mortal world. Stephen snaps back from his memories. Peeking out of the window, where now everyone and everything else was being eaten away from reality. Stephen could only sigh.
He walked around at the slowly dissolving place, touching the real structures that were not morphed by him in his own dream back in the lost library. Stephen just wanted to feel home again during those centuries of loneliness. But now that he's actually home, it's all slipping away into nothingness.
He looked above the ceiling of the sanctum that have now disappeared, watching the blue sky above turn to a lifeless dull blue. Birds flying at a much slower pace, each of their movements were being eaten away and were unaware of the whole thing ever happening. The same as the people that walked, doing their normal activities, unconcerned of the world coming to an end.
He patrolled the surroundings, gazing at every corner, walking down the halls in eerie silence with only the sound of wet blotches and the echoes of his own footsteps until he made his way back down the stairs. Suddenly a memory flashed upon seeing the center. He recalled it is where his other self was swallowed by the ground. Where he and Wong performed spells.
Do you not love this Christine?
"Wong?" His voice was hoarse from earlier. He called. But none answered. No one was here but him. He was simply hallucinating the voice. Stephen's heart dropped so low, realizing that Wong might've been any of the floating matter above.
He looked down in shame, grieving to what he had done. But he noticed something, an object reflecting from the sky's dying daylight. Golden and Ancient. It was Wong's sling ring.
Stephen recognizes that, he recognizes Wong's so easily. Stephen stares at the ring on the ground before picking it up. It was still warm. Gently cupping it in his hand as if it was a fragile object.
Stephen knelt on the ground and inspects the ring, holding it with such care. It was corroding too, but much slower from anything else.
"Have I… failed you, Wong?" He asks, looking down so solemn at the ring. "You knew didn't you? That I was going to do something like this? Is this why you invited me for tea?" His voice now softer in tone, speaking so personally to Wong's ring like it was him. As if they were having chats to each other.
Stephen, has completely lost his mind, he was speaking to an object. The sorcerer stayed there for a moment, wearing the sling that was slightly bigger around his fingers. Balled his fist, imagining that it was Wong's hand around his, and the warmth of the gold ring was his touch.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Stephen was tired. So tired. Old but never wise. Stephen Stood and looked at the ring in his hand one last time. Having yet another hope because for one person. Stephen opened the Eye of Agamotto, if he couldn't fix an absolute point in time, he could at least do what he had to do.
Save the world.
" At the very least, to save you ." He looked down at the ring in his palm. "It's what I had said to you, right?"
He used the eye once more without hesitation and went back to where he was, back to where his journey for power began.
The Lost Library.
《¤》
He came walking back to the library, no presence not even O'beign's. It's as he left it, dark with only a red glowing summoning portal engraved on the ground illuminating the place. Books scattered in all the other messes.
Stephen was angry at himself. Angry at everything he had done, all slipping away just because of him. All disappearing before him. All in his pride and arrogance, all ending because of a selfish choice. This is what he chose, becoming the monster he swore to destroy. He became everything he was supposed to slay.
He'll end his madness once and for all.
The beasts acted up. They didn't like the change of heart, they wanted him to suffer with them.
Unbearable pain, all screaming inside his head. Home is what they want. The sorcerer motioned his hands at one of the books and turned to a page. A spell to return a person or being at whatever location they were in. Some part of Stephen was overjoyed and relieved but it wasn't only his emotions. It was theirs .
He casted the spell and in a flash of blinding light, he finally used all the powers he had for good to send them back to where they had been before they were summoned.
Demonic and unearthly screams escaped from his own throat with all the others. They tried to fight within him, trying to eat him away from the inside, while others were fighting over who should control who. All writhed beneath his skin and through his soul.
Then, a large explosion was made, the blinding white light covered the whole interior and the loud booming explosion was loud enough to rattle the entire library to a quake.
Spirals of being have shot out of him one by one and the lights they emitted made it bright as daylight inside the library causing the ink in the books to fade away; awful godly beast being sent back into the portal to gods knows where. Their voices, forms and the whole imagery of it is enough to drive anyone mad. His body distorts at every release of these creatures. It was painful, and had gone on long enough to go on for another century. A price he has to pay, hundreds of years selfishly and delightfully absorbing their souls to another hundreth to release them back in their home.
Stephen might have developed sympathy for them. He now understands that even the most vilest of all beasts and gods misses their home, no matter how dark and lifeless it is. It's still a home in what mortal men will call twisted. Just like any other beings that exist, they live, sleep, and consume. They may see themselves as above all others but they too are alive with configurations then existing.
Stephen in some way, kept himself from ripping apart atom-by-atom whenever they were released. And he made sure they're all where they were supposed to be.
It goes on for too long, some stopping their plans to puppet his husk as they were all eager to go home in their own world and time. If time even exists to some of them.
Most of the fearsome behemoths had started to fear him, some plotting a way to get back to him with vengeance, and rightfully so. The centuries worth of unfathomable magic might have also activated natural disasters along the way, causing the library to cave down and be deserted by life as Stephen slowly loses his sense of identity during these endless torment. It was just an excruciating hell, a justifiable punishment for what he had done. Or so he tried to believe so.
His throat dry from blaring out an endless withered scream, breaking his chords until his voice was just a forced out air. Every muscle burned from the stretch and distortion of every bone and skin. It took hundreds of years and each seconds and days of those was an eternal nightmare. It goes on and on, the power and impact of them jumping back in the portal shook and cracks the ground.
It went on until finally, the last little fiend jumped out of him. The garden gnome, his first victim. It cursed and waved its fist at him, kicking him with all its tiny little feet could. Of course, for Stephen, it felt like nothing. But the little thing scampered in panic when he groaned and shift. And before he could raise his head, the gnome had already ran and jumped into the portal to back where it came from.
He groaned. The sorcerer tried to move his body, but he was incredibly exhausted. Still he mustered to stand, might be the body's determination to survive to what it had endured.
So he was still alive .
Why? He wondered. His feet moved by itself, walking towards the portal.
To go home.
The man, bleary eyed, looked around the ruins.
What was my goal again?
Home , he was supposed to go home. He needs to go home. He needs Wong…
Stephen walked towards the portal but his body had become too exhausted to continue that his feet failed him. Collapsing painfully into the ground but he stayed, relieved. Relieved to be free from them.
But there will always be a price to pay and he will be ready once they come back, he must. To protect his home, his realm. His friend . But for now, he needs rest. He needs Sleep . Stephen's heart beats slowly. Too slow in fact that he was anticipating for it to stop at any moment.
Stephen's eyesight now come to a blur with everything warping within its vision. He couldn't move his body and he lies on the cold ground unable to move, they drained him, this could be his end. He pulls himself, crawling towards his ticket to home, he reached his hand out to the portal on the ground that was already going dimm. He must come home.
He's waiting for me…
Tss .
The red portal to home finally dies, it was on for far too long. At least all is well, or perhaps not. He wasn't so sure. But no , he has to know. To know whether he failed or not. But the sorcerer was completely drained and weak to do anything, he's now but a mortal man.
Stephen's afraid. Afraid to die alone. To die helpless.
Stephen whimpered. He couldn't emit any voice if he tried, his chord only sputters a taste of iron on his tongue. He helplessly whined, hoping that perhaps someone else would find him. To ease him in his dying breath. But that's too out of reach. No one's in this library. He will die alone…
Stephen shuts his eyes, trying to ease his fear with bits of memories, playing a memory of a warm touch, a soft voice to a gentle lullaby. The memories then became a dream as he slowly loses his conciousness from the exhaustion. Like he coming home from a long day of work.
He didn't fight his hallucination, all that matters was that he's safe and secure in someone's arm.
Soft hand, gently brushing his soft hair.
The voice, the touch. It's of his mother.
It all eased his pain and fear. He couldn't remember anything else but his first memory at life.
As he last hears the gentle breeze and chirps above the open sky. For the first time in centuries, Stephen slept in peace.
.
.
.
.
.
.
《¤》
"What was on your mind, Stephen?" Wong asked. The whistling of the kettle was getting louder.
"Hm?" Stephen raised his brow at the question and was curious. "What was what?" He watches Wong turn off the stove and brought the kettle to pour hot water into Stephen's cup first and then his.
"You were thinking of something when you were holding the eye of Agamotto." Stephen sat in silence whilst Wong waits for an answer.
"I-I… well-" he stuttered, Wong not leaving his eyes on him. "Probably something stupid, and as you said. Might be something reckless ." He said, his spoon clinks on to the ceramic cup when mixing the tea with sugar. Any noise to not continue any of the thought.
"What changed your mind? Whatever that may be." Wong walked to the other side of the table, the sound of the wooden chair's legs dragging on the floor until Wong sat.
"I- I don't know. It was perhaps for the best that I didn't continue the thought." He scoffed, smiling softly at Wong. Stephen took a sip of the tea, lightly burning his tongue at the hot drink. "Mm, this is good."
"Thank you, made the blends myself. But don't burn your tongue now, I might miss you talk."
Stephen can't help but chuckle, gladly the tea wasn't anywhere near his lips at the moment. "Really?" He smiled genuinely at Wong. "You miss me talk?"
A long pause as Wong takes a sip. "No."
"Oh come on now, you don't mean that."
"Since when am I not honest?"
Stephen just smiled. "Yeah right, I'm sure you have secrets that you are not honest about." He blew and took a careful sip of the tea. And of course, Wong didn't answer. A classic Wong.
The two shared a quiet day, the tea warms them up, it was a cozy and good day. A hot drink during a rainy weather. Wong even made tuna melt, spicy yet sweet. It balanced well with the saltiness of the tuna and cheese.
As if it wasn't enough. Wong took two glass and a bottle of whiskey when they finished their tea.
"Wong?" Stephen broke the silence.
"Mm?" Wong poured their glass with the beverage, the scent was strong.
"Have you ever felt lonely?" Stephen paused for a moment. "...are you… happy?"
Wong raised his brows. "That's… an interesting question." Wong thought for a moment, handing Stephen the shot of glass. Wong sat down once more and takes a sip.
"You'd think that saving the world will get you there… But it doesn't. And even with everyone around you, you still manage to feel lonely." Stephen said. Lightly projecting at the last sentence there.
Wong paused for a moment, thinking.
"I am quite happy with where I am, even with its tribulations." Wong took another sip to wash down the food. "As for being alone, I am grateful to have met the people around me. But…" he paused, as if thinking if he should tell or not.
"But…?"
Wong then finished. "-But I am more than happy to have met you. I am grateful to have you as my companion."
Stephen smiled, his cheeks warmed when he hasn't taken a sip of the whiskey yet.
"And I, you."