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Honestly, Stephen wondered if his dimension had somehow become the Grand Central for lost kids. Or at least misplaced people from other dimensions. First was Miss Cha- America, and now it was a skinny kid from who he recognised as Spiderman from that... zombie infested world? That universe was a shit show to behold, and it had been horrific to watch.
"Um. Doctor Strange, sir...?" Peter Parker was flanked by T'Challa; Black Panther, and... a head in a bell jar? With the Cloak of Levitation? Stephen racked his head for information about the zombie apocalypse, but he came up with nothing. Communications with that universe had basically deteriorated after the virus went out of control, and the Watcher was not very keen on sharing details about other worlds.
So he went with his usual line. "What are you doing here?"
"Sorry, Doctor Strange, sir, I just- I thought- I got a sling ring from Cloak over here and we were in trouble, sir, Thanos became a zombie, and then half the universe was Snapped, and now we came here because we have nowhere else to go!" Peter finished his speech off, his words blurring together and clogged with tears.
"Kid, I know you're excitable, but please, you have to slow down. And close the portal before you let anything else through. I probably cleared your world out of most of the zombies, but you never know."
Peter's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "That was you? We were in Wakanda when that happened! The floor just opened up and swallowed a bunch of zombies, we thought someone else was alive! We thought- I thought..." He faltered. His throat bobbed.
"We thought you were alive." T'Challa supplied. "Hiding, biding your time."
Stephen winced. It was easy to gain hope when there was so little that could give you it in the first place, and his glowing portals must have brought them back to the New York Sanctum, and judging from the looks of it...
"I didn't survive the apocalypse, did I?" Stephen realised. "I... turned."
Peter nodded sadly. "You tried to hold it back. You, and the rest of the sorcerers. It... um. There were only so many of your people, and-" Peter broke off, and T'Challa draped his arm around the kid's shoulders.
Stephen sighed. With a wave of his hand, he banished the still open portal, but left Peter with the sling ring, despite the temptation to take it. That would help them get out of here, and besides, where would he go? For the umpteenth time, he wondered if this was the Watcher's misguided attempt at helping him battle the solitude of his prison.
"Right. Introductions, please?" With another wave of his hand, he conjured up the Sanctum and took a moment to admire it. Making his prison seem more liveable was something that he never bothered with, since the ambient magic that gave the Sanctum life was missing, making everything feel hollow, but he thought that they might need some comfort right now.
"If you count not having a body, but other than that, all heads accounted for, Doc!" The head laughed at his own joke. "The name's Scott Lang, and I am- was Ant Man."
"T'Challa, king of Wakanda and the current holder of the Black Panther mantle."
"Peter Parker, Spiderman."
Stephen heaved a deep sigh. So he was doing this. Okay then. "Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and Sorcerer Supreme of this world. But just call me Stephen."
"Doc, I'm not a doctor, but I think you should see one." Scott squinted at him. "You look terrible."
With a wry grin, Stephen swept his arm out, indicating the crystallised orb that was all that's left of his dimension. "I'm fine, I'm not the one who just lived through a zombie apocalypse. Anyone against fish and chips?"
"Fish and chips?" T'Challa looked bewildered.
"One of the only perks of having a destroyed dimension; trust me, I should know." Food was a little harder to conjure than drinks, but he had practiced. The place here was the only last piece of a broken universe, but Stephen had nothing but power to spare. He cast spells, wove reality and bent space until they could all sit comfortably for a meal of fish and chips.
"I'm very sorry if the taste is a little off, it's been a while since I've done fish and chips." Stephen waved at the table awkwardly, then looked at Scott (don't look behind. Don't look at Cloak-). "Will you need help?"
"What?" Scott glanced down. "Oh, no. I'm good, I... don't actually know how I'm still alive, actually. I haven't eaten in a while, but Cloak here will give me a hand."
Stephen nodded. Humour as a shield against pain was something that he knew. He himself had withdrawn into silence after Christine's accident, and even now, he found it difficult to open himself to others.
He hovered awkwardly by the side when they settled down to eat, before sweeping up the stairs. This was the first time he had conjured up something so big in his pocket dimension, and he was struck with the urge to check up on the globe that contained the two most dangerous beings in the multiverse.
The corridors were inert, unlike the constantly twisting ones that were in the original Sanctum. These ones just stayed still, and they wouldn't play pranks on you.
Yet another unforeseen consequence of trying to bring Christine back.
He finally locates the globe in a dusty room he recognised as one of the relic rooms, right in the case where the Cloak of Levitation used to be. The glass was still broken, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the shouts of the zealots.
"You know things are bad when you wish you were stuck in a time loop with a timeless entity." Stephen chuckled to himself, taking a seat by the case. "By the Vishanti, I'm going insane, aren't I? If I'm even still sane."
His Cloak wrapped its edge around his wrist, squeezing lightly. He patted the cloth, rubbing it absently. This Cloak was nice, but he missed his old one. Perhaps it was because their personalities were so different, and he once again thought to that Cloak around Scott's... shoulders? Bell jar?
He wanted it. But would it want him? Ancient relics like the Cloak of Levitation had an instinct for magic, and he knew he was no longer the man he was when the Cloak first chose him. And Scott needed it more than he did.
'It's alright to want things, Strange.'
"Easy for you to say." Stephen shot back at his voice. "The last time I wanted for something, I destroyed the universe."
'And? What did you learn?'
"That I shouldn't ask for more. Vishanti's sake, I should be grateful that I'm not alone in here." He shot back.
'You're never alone. You have us.'
"Oh, haha, you think so funny." Stephen snarked. "Just because you are me doesn't mean you know me."
'That doesn't make sense and you know it.'
"Shut up." He muttered. "It must be fate, forcing me to converse with myself."
'Do you believe in fate, Doctor?'
"No." Stephen said. "If I did, I would have to accept that this was part of some greater plan, and that's a can of worms I'm not going to open anytime soon- or ever."
'Your choices shape your reality, Stephen. What you choose to do causes the timeline's branches.'
"You've told me that before." Stephen said, trying not to sound petulant. "And I've learned, alright? Messing with time is what got me here in the first place."
'It's not always about you, Stephen.' The Ancient One's voice was dryly amused.
"Yeah, I know.... I know." Stephen sighed. "It's never about me."
"Doctor Strange?"
Stephen jumped a little, craning his neck. "Over here." He called.
Peter appeared around the corner, his lips still stained at one end with fish grease. He looked apologetic.
"Sorry, am I interrupting something? I- I can come back-"
"Kid. There is nothing that you can interrupt." Stephen teleported them both into the small reading nook in the library. "What's wrong?"
Peter blinked several times before he burst into action. "Nothing's wrong, sir! We're very grateful for your help, it's just..." He chewed his lip. "Why?"
"Why?"
"Why help us?" Peter clarified. "It's just... sorry, but today's been really rough; I lost so many of my friends- watched them die, or- or worse, and I'm really sorry, you're nice, but I don't- I can't-"
"Hey, hey." Stephen swallowed roughly.
'Measure your next words very carefully, Doctor.' The Ancient One whispered. Stephen silently told her to keep quiet.
"You'll be okay. You're strong, Peter, you'll survive." His bedside manner was atrocious, and time had done nothing to soften it. But he could try.
"I won't tell you not to worry. But you have friends. T'Challa, Scott... you have them. And they have you." Stephen hesitated. "Peter..."
Peter lunged at him. It took all of Stephen's will not to call forth defensive and battle spells and instead remember that this was Spiderman, and he was... hugging him.
Oh. He mouthed to himself. So we're doing this now. Okay.
'Our bedside manners really are terrible.' He sounded vaguely amused in his head, clashing with the dull panic that was currently tearing through him. He forced down his fear and focused on trying to keep his form solid.
'You have to surrender, Stephen. Surrender to the flow.' The Ancient One hummed.
"I couldn't save them." Peter sobbed. "Mr Stark, Doctor Banner, you, Captain America, all of them."
He took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. He wrapped his arms around Peter's body (lean, wiry, too skinny for his age, he's just a kid-) and started to talk.
"It isn't your fault, Peter." Stephen murmured. "None of this is. You're just a kid, you should never have had to deal with this."
Peter howled like a wounded animal, and Stephen patted his back, pulling him in tighter. He let the boy cry himself dry, keeping up the soothing gestures. He had this coming, Stephen mused. Peter needed an outlet for his grief and emotion, and as strange as it was, he was that outlet. And not even in an aggressive way.
First time for everything, Stephen thought to himself, careful to keep as open and soft as possible. Peter was calming down, his pained sobs turning into hiccuping whimpers.
"Okay?" Stephen asked.
Peter pulled away, and he looked a mess. But Stephen knew firsthand just how cathartic crying would be, despite how it made you look. It loosened something inside. Whether you pulled it out or shoved it back deeper was something else entirely.
"Sorry, Doctor Strange, sir, I didn't-"
"Peter. Call me Stephen." He ran his hand down the teen's back. "You've just cried on my shoulder. I think we're past formalities."
"Okay, Doc- Stephen."
Stephen's skin crawled. He could feel himself tearing apart at the seams, but he was loathe to pull away from Peter. He needed Stephen, and by the Vishanti, it was a heady feeling, to be relied on. So he pulled himself closer, compressing everything into a singular knot of discomfort that he ignored.
"Let's get some rest, okay? You must be tired after that. Doctor's orders." Stephen joked, hoping to bring a smile onto Peter's face. It was a terrible joke, but the corners of Peter's lips lifted. Well, he'd take what he could get.
He helped Peter out of the chair, directing him to the nearest bedroom. The moment Peter knew where the bathroom and bedrooms were, Stephen turned, hoping to get somewhere quieter so he could scratch that itch.
"Thank you again, Stephen." Peter's face was raw and open, and his voice was so sincere that Stephen's voice caught in his throat. How could he be so kind?
"You're welcome, Peter." Stephen croaked. "Sleep well."
The moment the door shut, he fled. He dissolved a portion of the Sanctum on the opposite end of where his guests were: T'Challa and Scott were in their bedrooms, close to Peter, that was good. They wouldn't be around to see this happening.
The featureless stone felt familiar as he landed hard on his knees, curling around the orb that he managed to grab. In the shadows, he loosened his hold on his form, groaning as he blinked with too many eyes. His mouth felt crowded, and every inch of his skin had morphed into something else. His head was heavy.
'The bill comes due. Always.' Mordo's voice echoed, pitiless and disgusted. 'Look at what you have become, Strange. You've succumbed to dark magic.'
That... that wasn't true. He was still in there. His body had changed, that's all.
'Was it worth it? A few precious moments with your Christine while the universe burned around you?'
"Stop..." He moaned. "Stop it."
'She died in your arms. Her death is on your hands.'
Stephen's breath hitched. A plume of flame blossomed gently over the ground.
"I know, Mordo!" Stephen snapped. "What do you want me to do? Cry? I've done enough of that. Brood? Been there. Done that. Tell me, Mordo. What. Do. I. Do?" The voice remained silent, and Stephen didn't know if he was grateful or angry.
A flutter pricked his ears, and he looked up. The Cloak of Levitation hovered there.
"Hello." He resisted the urge to call it an old friend. That was his other half's privilege. The thought of that battle made him sick to his stomach. The way he'd ripped the poor thing apart... he felt nothing, and even now, he only felt faint echoes from his other half. Love. Protectiveness. Despair. Nostalgia.
The Cloak shifted, unwilling to get closer. Stephen wrapped his mind around his body and tugged gently, willing his extra appendages to shrink back into his flesh. He kept his form indistinct, but human enough if the Cloak wanted to approach. If.
It did, drifting closer silently. Stephen reached out, stopping himself at the last second. No. Could he? Was he enough? The Cloak pushed one edge of itself into Stephen's hand, and allowed him to draw it closer to him. He cuddled the relic, his own cloak squeezing his shoulders in a comforting gesture.
"Sorry." Stephen's mouth formed the words easily. "I know you're not this universe's Cloak, but sorry. For... for everything that I've done to you. I know you lost your master, but Scott... well, he needs you."
He petted the collar, chuckling quietly when the Cloak squirmed in his arms. It felt like cheating, almost. He let it go, expecting it to leave him. But the Cloak hovered there almost hesitantly before it reached out and brushed under his eyes.
"Oh." Stephen blinked. "Thank you."
He watched the Cloak leave, and took a careful breath. The pain in his chest still remained, but with each breath, it cooled, turning into something soft and rounded. Perhaps one day, it would be eroded into nothing. But for now, he tucked it away behind his heart, and watched over his Sanctum.