Work Text:
Stephen looked at the dozens of books that floated around him. Snatches of phrases leaped out at him, and he shut each book methodically. From America's descriptions of Strange Supreme's prison, he was confident he could portal his way there. A shattered dimension stilled counted as a place, right?
He grabbed his sling ring, smiling at Levi who patted his hand.
"Thank you, old friend." He murmured. "I hope this version of me won't try to kill me immediately."
A fizzing orange portal opened into darkness, and Stephen hesitated for a moment before stepping through. It took a few moments, but the dark mist shifted, transforming into familiar shapes.
"Hello? Anyone home?" The place looked remarkably similar to the Sanctum, but there was something wrong with it.
It felt... not dead, but there was a certain hollowness to it. If he were to make use of a surgical analogy, it would be like if a patient had had something removed on the operating table, their body incomplete and anaesthetised.
The ambient magic that permeated the air was almost nonexistent, leaving a husk of a building. Stephen shivered slightly, looking up at the large window. It was dark outside, stars twinkling behind the dusty glass, but... it was too quiet. Even at night, there was always the sounds of the city, of people talking, traffic. Outside this Sanctum, it was completely silent.
"I had hoped you would visit later rather than sooner." Strange Supreme wasn't a carbon copy of Stephen Strange, though the main characteristics were there. Where the soft, orange lamplight didn't touch, his body seem to blur and fuzz, the edges of his form softening like butter in the sun.
"Other me." Stephen greeted.
Strange Supreme cracked a thin smile. "Incredibly bold of you to assume you are the original."
"I wasn't the one who ended up in a pocket dimension." Stephen stepped forward. He hadn't foresaw how their interactions would go, just what had brought Strange Supreme here. Peeking into time felt like cheating, and he really wanted their first interaction to be sincere.
Strange Supreme blinked. The shadows blinked alongside him. "Yes. I suppose that might be a small oversight on my part."
"Why did you contact America?" Stephen stepped up to the first step of the sweeping staircase. Strange Supreme remained where he was: a blind spot between two lamps on the landing. A whisper of scales crept out from the shadows and disappeared just as quickly.
"I didn't contact her. She came to me." There was something wistful in his voice. "I thought she was a hallucination, and I may have assumed some things. Like the fact that she must know about my headspace. It might have influenced my interactions with her somewhat, I'll admit."
"Do you know how she might have appeared here?" Stephen asked.
Strange Supreme shrugged. "I have theories. Nothing concrete. But I can assure you that she's safe here. I would never hurt her."
"You do know why she's here, right? Why she keeps coming back?"
"Keeping a lonely sorcerer company in prison?" Supreme's lips lifted in a small grin. "She was the one who made me decide to recreate the Sanctum here."
"She wants to help." Stephen said bluntly. No point in beating about the bush. "I caught her studying containment spells, how to make or break them."
Strange seemed to stop moving for a moment. His shadows stopped moving, and he stood stock still.
"Really?" He breathed. "She's trying to help me?"
"Don't get any ideas." Stephen warned. "If you really are in a prison, there's not guarantee that you can break out."
"Oh, I know." Strange said earnestly. "I've no wish to leave this place at all. But it's nice to know someone still cares."
"America told me some things about you. You're me. This is- was your world, and you destroyed it trying to bring back Christine."
"Yes." Strange said. "I did all this for Christine."
"Why?"
"Why did I do this for Christine?" Strange tilted his head. "Or why did I not stop before I destroyed my world?"
"Why did you tell America? She's just a kid." Stephen swept a hand out. "Albeit a multiversal traveler, but she's not old enough to hear about our trauma."
"Yes, I suppose you'd know about trauma too, other me?" Strange stepped forward into the light, and for the first time, Stephen got to see how his alternate self looked like.
He looked worn out. His cloak was different, and own Cloak rustled uncomfortably. He didn't want to think about what had happened to the Cloak of Levitation in this world.
"Forgive me." Strange said, and Stephen realised that the silence had stretched on for far too long. "I told you that when I first met America, I thought she was a hallucination. Something new created by my mind in an attempt to help me feel better. We aren't very big on sharing our heart's secrets, Stephen, but I thought nothing of America."
"It's common to see things for you?"
"It depends." Strange hummed vaguely. "But pain is an old friend."
Stephen was more spooked than he'd like to be, hearing these words repeated back at him, considering the circumstances in which he'd said the words. Back then, there was only Dormammu, him and his Cloak, so it was irrefutable proof that this man really was him. Had gone through the same things as him.
Even though he had seen many things that most couldn't even dream of, somehow, accepting the fact that one of his alternate selves wasn't unhinged or dead and actually having a conversation with him was the hardest.
The unhinged part was still up for jury, though.
"Someone once told me that Stephen Strange was, and would always be the biggest threat to their universe."
Strange raised his eyebrow. "Who did?"
Stephen aimed for a nonchalant tone. "An order of people, created because the me of that universe decided to use the Darkhold."
"Ah."
"Christine was a scientist, in that universe. She had heavily implied that I was not the first Doctor Strange to enter her lab, and I suspect that I will not be the last."
"We seem to be overly fond of multiversal incursions." Strange laughed, a real, genuine sound. "Us Stranges have a capacity to change the world, and not always for the better, it seems."
"The Illuminati did say something along those lines too."
"The Illumi-whati?"
Stephen blinked. He was getting off-track. "One last question. Why is America coming here more and more often?"
"I don't know." Strange answered easily. "If you're worried about me teaching her corruptive spells, you needn't worry. I know how dangerous knowledge can be."
"Good. That's- that's good."
"You sound like a concerned father, come to check on your daughter." Strange smiled. "Take care of her."
Stephen huffed. "I'll not let any harm come to her."
"Two Stranges. She must be the most protected being in the multiverse."
"Don't forget Wong."
"Yes, of course." Strange nodded sagely. "Return now, Stephen. I believe America needs your help with a particularly difficult spell."
"Doctor Strange?"
Stephen blinked awake, taking in his surroundings. The exact same, except for the window. His window didn't look out into an infinite depth of darkness. America stood by his chair, a book balanced in one hand and a notebook in another. Her pen was tucked behind her ear.
"What's wrong, America?"
"Well, there's this particular component in a spell that I just can't get right, and you told me to read the whole book before asking because the warnings come after the spell."
"-the warnings come after the spell." Stephen acquiesced when America lifted her hand for a high-five. "Alright, explain to me what you know."
He looks at America, hard at work at trying to dismantle the far more physical walls around the Stephen Strange of another universe, and he thinks how this girl had already softened the walls around his heart.
Yes. So maybe in another universe, he had never lost his hands. But he was in this universe, and he was content.