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Nic was handing files to Christine in the nurse's station while unsuccessfully trying to flirt with her when it happened. Emergencies in the hospital involving yelling, especially in the ER, were common. Nic had decided to ignore it – he was a neurosurgeon, after all. The emergency room wasn’t his area unless he needed to fill in for one of the neurosurgeons on calls and even that was rare.
Ignore it, silently sneak past the newest commotion, and hide in his office to review his next case. That was the plan.
And then the yelling started to sound familiar. He had never heard it so terrified and full of pain, however. He had heard it mad, assertive, arrogant, but never scared.
Then Doctor Stephen Strange, the man presumed dead after his accident and dropping off the face of the Earth, rounded the corner, bloodied hand clutching a bloody chest and dressed in something that looked like it was from an Asian street vender.
“Christine–” He gasped, eyes locking with the nurse standing next to Nic. Christine gasped, rushing to greet Stephen, but she was stopped. Nic watched her be pulled back by a man Nic had never seen again with grey hair and the flesh around his eyes actively rotting away, dressed similarly to the wheezing Strange. He wrapped an arm around Christine’s shoulders, his other arm holding a translucent spear of some kind and pressing it to her neck. He barely moved a muscle as Christine gasped, blunt nails clawing and digging into the man’s arm.
“Christine… Kaecilius…” Strange whispered, leaning against a wall, his face slowly draining of any color.
“Doctor,” The man – Kaecilius? Nic had no clue what was going on – said, smiling. “You didn’t listen to me in the sanctum, but maybe now I’ll have your attention. The pages you stole from me. The ritual to contact Dormammu. You give them to me without a fight or your girlfriend here dies.”
“She’s not… you can’t have the pages… Kaecilius… Dormammu is… he’s a monster…” Nic had pressed himself far away from Kaecilius, but he could still see Strange’s weakening hands. He was bleeding out – from where, Nic didn’t know, but he was fading and fading fast.
“Stephen, don’t. I don’t know– I don’t know what’s going on, but give him the pages, you’re dying!” Christine said, desperately trying to escape Kaecilius’ hold. “He’s dying, please, let me–”
“Your friend understands. Give me the pages, Strange.”
Strange shook his head. He barely seemed to notice the silence that fell over the normally bustling ER, the similarly dressed, similarly rotting people keeping everyone away from the scene. Nic was the only one close enough to hear everything, slipping by undetected, like usual.
“You’ll… kill ever-everyone…” Strange gasped, slipping from his position against the wall. His fingers were turning blue. No one moved to help him.
“Stephen!” Christine begged. “Stephen, please!”
Nic watched as Strange finally succumbed, the light fading from his eyes as he slumped onto the floor. His body stilled and Kaecilius huffed, throwing Christine down. She ran towards Strange, kneeling next to him, shaking him as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Nic just stood there, frozen as Kaecilius approached the body. He shoved Christine away and crouched next to Strange. Kaecilius dug through Stranges’ outfit and pulled out two old, bloodstained pages. He stood up and motioned for the others in the room to follow him through a… portal? The others obeyed, though, as if these kinds of things happened regularly, and stepped through the glowing circle of sparks in the hallway. Kaecilius watched them leave, then followed behind them but not before sneering and kicking Strange’s body for good measure.
The sparks fizzled out of existence, leaving just the normal hallway behind it. Nic couldn’t figure out what to do or how to even comprehend the situation, from the silence of the ER to the collapsed body of Stephen Strange – missing, presumed dead, found, and dead again – curled beneath a sobbing Christine Palmer.
Nic let out a shaky breath, his stomach rolling. He screwed his eyes shut, digging the palms of his hands into the sockets.
When he opened them next, he was in his office, the door closed, almost as if nothing had happened and with no idea of how he had managed to get to his office, but he could still see the image of Strange slowly bleeding out onto the hospital floor burned in the back of his vision, Christine’s pleas still ringing in his ears.