"Alright, alright, I'm coming.", its half passed three in the morning, raining outside, and the world none the wiser to the fact that it had just lost half her children in the span of time that it did. After all that they had been through one would think that the universe would allow its heroes a good nights rest, at the very least, but the insistent knocking at the front door is proof that the universe gives it's heroes nothing in return. His magic thrums under his skin dangerously, ready to jump out at a mere command or call, as he reaches for the door handle, "There better be a great-", Stephen Strange likes to think that there is little that can surprise him, and in most cases its a truth that hits too close to home, but at the moment he's much too tired to be as vigilant as he should be, and it's not every day that one opens their door to a teenager looking as though someone has just commited the most greivous of crimes against them or their loved ones, "Peter?", he tries to keep the surprise from bleeding into his voice and only just manages, "What in the...What are you doing here?", the boy looks miserable. One doesn't need the eyes of a doctor (let alone one of his caliber) to see the thick bags under the boys eyes, his palor complection, the boy is standing there in little more then a hoodie, hunched over on himself, soaked to the bone and shivering as though he's been trapped in a freezer for hours.
And considering his anatomy it wouldn't surprise the older man if thats just how he felt too.
Those haunted brown eyes turn to look up at him, where life once shined now hides a darkened shadow of it's former self, "Well...I just...I...Aunt May had to go out of town for a new job and Mr. Stark is still recovering and I didn't want to...It wasn't hard to find your place on google and...Can I come in Doc?"
Strange nods, "Yes, yes, come in.", stepping aside to allow the teenager entry, normally he would have slammed the door in their face, but Peter was different then most teens. And even he could become unnerved by the look in those youthful eyes. Peter thanked him softly, stepped passed him as he entered, shaking his curls free of their rain drench, and the doctor bites back a harsh gasp at the shere chill that bites into his arm as the boy's shoulder rubs against the exposed skin.
The desire for sleep forgotten, he closes the door as he turns to face the shivering child, it makes ones heart ache to think of the continuous horrors this child in particular has had to face. The world can be a cruel place, and Peter Parker is most certainly far from being the only child to have to suffer it's cruel humor, but the only one he truly finds himself caring an inkling more for is the one that stands before him.
"The kitchen", he settles a shaking hand over the teens quaking shoulder and points down the hall, "Is that way. Meet me there, will you?, I will get you something less drenched to wear.", Peter nods absently, his eyes drifting down to where his destination was located, and steps forward without any sort of encouragement. Stephen watches him go for a moment, and as he pauses, "I don't have anything else to wear Mr. Doctor Strange."
"If you think that getting you dry clothing is where my powers are limited then I feel as though I should be offended."
That gets him a half smile, a shimmer of light pushing through the darkness that has clouded over once vibrant eyes, and it fills him with a warmth that he is unfamiliar with to know he is the cause of such a minute change. Peter nods, turning back to continue his journey, and Stange waits until he is almost turning the corner before crossing over to the stairs.
"Mr. Doctor Strange?", the timid voice stops him half way, he doesn't turn when he responds, "Yes Peter?"
A breath of a moment, "Do you remember?"
A simple question shouldn't hold so many distasterous and terrifying meanings. There are many things he remembers; where his cloak is 'sleeping', the last book he read, the very last surgery before the accident, Christine, there is so much. But the question in part involks another memory, one he remembers all too vividly, and wishes he could not.
"I remember many things."
"Do you remember dying?"
The silence that follows seems to come from the sanctum itself, the rain beating on the windows disappears, the howling wind falls silent, the cars as they drive down the street stop, not a creek or whisper is heard for the breath of a moment following that question. Peter hasn't turned to see his reaction to such an innocent request, and he doesn't turn to see the boys timidness that seeps into his voice as he asks, there is no need to.
Stephen turns slightly, hands curling into loose fists at his sides, eyes peering into the wood of the stair he stands on, "More then I wish I did."
"Good.", Peter's voice has gone impossibly small, "Cause I do too.", and he turns the corner into the kitchen, ending that conversation where it sits then and there. Stephen continues up the stairs in the silence that follows, his eyes meeting those of Wong's at the top, the other man peering at him from his own bedroom door, they meet for a moment and he gives a simple nod to the unasked question.
Peter remembers.
Perhaps a bit more then anyone else does too.
Part of the healing process is sharing with other people who care.
-Jerry Cantrell
He swims in the doctors old shirt, it fits him almost like a dress, coming passed his knees in a way that he usually would have pouted at, but now he sits in his chair as docile as a wounded animal playing with the hem with shaking pale fingers. Strange heaves a sigh, reaching over the counter to set a mug of steaming tea in front of the teen. Peter starts for a moment, eyes wide and alert, clearly having been torn from whatever clip his mind's eye had been replaying for him.
They sit in silence, staring at their mugs for the longest of moments and it feels as though two eternities have passed before the overbearing silence is broken.
"Can you make me forget?", Peter sounds like a child, one so much younger then his sixteen years, when he finally breaks his silence, his pale fingers finally coming up to curl around the warm mug, they just peek out from under the sleeve of the sweatshirt he's been given. When no reply is forthcoming, he looks up, their eyes locking for the first time that night.
"I could."
"Can you-"
"But I won't."
Tears spring to his brown eyes, as if his emotional state has taken a mind of its own, and he rubs them away angrily with the balled up sleeve in his free hand, "Why? Why do I have to remember? When the others don't!"
"A question of my own?", he tilts his head down, his chin dipping slightly, fighting the slight smile that wants to come to his lips at the brush of amber that dusts the boys cheeks as he comes back to his senses for a moment and realizes that he just exploded as a small child would when not given an anwer to a request that they had wanted, "Is this a two way interrogation?", the boy nods into his mug as he takes a sip.
It's endearing.
"What are you doing here at three in the morning?", Peter falls impossibly silent again, his eyes falling back to his mug, but he's answered the boy's questions and expects his to be given in return, "Peter."
"I couldn't breath."
"What?", concern bleeds into his tone.
"I woke up and I couldn't breath. I thought that I was back...Was back there...And I went to find Aunt May but I forgot that she was out of town and-"
"You are staying there by yourself?"
Peter's expression changes to one of slight offense, "I'm not gonna burn down the apartment anyway...I forgot she was gone at the moment and when I went to check her room and found it empty I panicked. I couldn't calm down enough to remember other then the fact that I remembered."
Night terrors are defined as; a form of sleep disorder in which a person partially awakens from sleep in a state of terror. A sufferer of night terrors experiences an activation of his or her flight-or-fight system. The causes of night terrors are often unknown, but the condition may result from lack of sleep or high levels of stress.
Mix those two things together such as it was with Peter Parker and it was a ticking bomb waiting for detonation.
And his flight-or-fight instinct brought him here.
"Why won't you take the memories from me?"
"Because you remember them for a reason, while others don't, though that reason is still unclear.", it's easy to slip into doctor mode, "When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?"
A shrug, as is the way with teenagers when you ask a question they know that the answer will be something you frown upon, "The night before my field trip.", that's alarming. They'd been back nearly two months now. Peter takes a breath and looks up again, "What do you do?"
"For what?"
"When you remember?"
That throws him for a loop, its a small moment of surprise and it passes quickly, "I try to remember all the things that are real around me. A book. The blankets. A glass on the bedside table. Solid, real, things.", his turn, "How long do you sleep at night?"
"Maybe a few hours. Sometimes more then other nights, sometimes less, just depends."
"Right. What do you do when you remember?"
Peter blinks, not expecting that question thrown back at him, "I run. Until it hurts to breath again. Until the muscles in my legs ache. I run."
Stephen sets his emtpy mug aside, leaning forward on the counter between them, "Like you ran here?", and the boy nods softly, "Right then. Peter, I'm sorry.", his head snaps up at the apology, but his reflexes are faster, he's paying more attention now, his hands may be useless in surgery but he can still press a few fingers to the child's temple, his magic flowing from his fingertips into the boy before him, and Peter's eyes roll into his head as it does. He begins to fall backwards, and his useless hands come back full play, perhaps he is not as vigilant as he thought at this moment just yet, or at least his thought processing is still taking its time to catch up with the actions, as the boy is dead asleep now and he can't catch him.
The boy very nearly crumbles to the floor, saved only by the cloak of levitation, catching him up just moments before the coming collision. His head lulls back in this state and he gives a soft thanks to his closest friend for it's quick thinking, the red fabric nods as if it hears his thanks and floats higher, depositing the boy into his arms at his beckoning. Now that he holds the child, like one does a sleeping toddler, he frowns at just how lite he is. Peter is utterly de...asleep...to the world around him to notice much of anything, as the sorcerer and his trusted cloak leave the kitchen behind and head back to the stairs.
Wong watches them from the landing, no doubt having sent the cloak down to check, his eyes are unusually sad as they gaze over the child in the other man's arms.
"I made him up a room."
It goes without question, this is a freaking mansion, of course they have more then enough room. Stephen nods in thanks, stepping passed him, taking note that the room that has been made up is just two doors down from his own (Wong has an incredible sense of humor despite his outward appearance of the contrary) and he sets the limp teen down on the soft oversized mattress with a difficult sort of ease. The cloak brushes an edge over his shoulder and settles over the child, curling around him, a security blanket if there ever was one.
"Watch over him, old friend?"
The collar dips as if nodding and settles down. He watches the teen sleeping for a moment, the way the stress has fallen from his features, the same stress he'd carried before the snap that had grown tenfold after, with it melted he looks almost younger then he actually is. Peter will be out like a light for at least the next eight hours, he's sure of that, but that part of him that aches for the boy doesn't quite want to leave him.
Not in the vulnerable state he was in just moments prior.
"If anything happens.", the cloak's collar rises again, giving him its full attention, "Come get me immediately.", again, it nods, and its sufficient enough that he sighs and steps out of the room Wong has returned to his room and he turns down the hall for his own, cracking the door behind him in the event he'd needed, Stephen collapses onto his bed.
The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.
-Hubert H. Humphrey
After the first night, it becomes something of a commonality in the sanctum for the spider child to make his way there. He'll watch Stephen meditate, Wong read in the library, the cloak mess around. Peter does his homework at the table in the library as Stephen reads an old tome, they study anatomy and physiology together during the quite moments, or he simply curls up in the corner, the cloak draped around him like a blanket as the Doctor floats above the floor, meditating or thinking (it's hard to decipher which one at certain times) just taking comfort in the presence of the other.
Doctor Strange remembers.
More then Tony does.
More then the others do.
He remembers.
They talk about it during the dark moments, the rough times, when he can't seem to catch his breath and remain in the here and now. The gentle monotone of the Doctors voice drawing him back to the present better then anything else has. Sometimes he reads out loud, from his old dusty books, and Peter hangs onto every word.
The guest room that Wong had made up that first night becomes his. It has a spare duvet from Aunt May's with little rockets on it that covers the bed, neatly made as is expected, a pair of sneakers, varying in color, are always kicked off near the closet door and a small pile of books decorates the top of the dresser.
A phone charger on the desk near the window makes it official.
If it irritates Strange in any way that a teenager has seemingly taken up partial residency in his home he never utters a word about it out loud. Peter has a key to the door, welcome to come and go at any time, so long as he wipes his feet on the rug out front and hangs his jacket in the closet to the side.
Peter still splits his time between Aunt May's and Stark's tower, the only difference being his third safe haven, for when Aunt May is out of town because of her new job and he doesn't want to bother Mr. Stark with his troubles that the genius wouldn't be able to help with in the way that the doctor can.
"Mr. Doctor Wizard?", Peter's call comes from across the room, sitting upside down on the couch, feeting dangling over the back, and the doctor hums in acknowledge from where he floats reading through another dusty novel, "If space is a vacuum, who changes the bag?"
"Peter.", he smiles when the doctor shakes his head, not looking up from his book, the cloaks shoulders quake as if laughing.
"Is Disney World a human trap operated by a mouse?"
"Peter."
"If my legs are on fire and my head is in a block of ice, am I hot or cold?"
"What?", this turns the doctor's head, the incredulous look in Stephen's eyes make the boy laugh, and tumble over the couch to land on the floor, "You, spiderling, have too much time on your hands.", the amusement is very obvious in the older man's tone as he sets his book aside and lowers himself to the floor. He shakes his head fondly at the teen as he scrambles to his feet, "When you found out that you were a sorcerer and magic was real, did someone say,'Stephen yer a wizard!'?"
"If you say one more Harry Potter reference I will not be held responsible for my actions."
The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one.
-Will Mcavoy
"Peter?"
He can just make out the frightened voice above the din of the others chatter, everything glazes over, his breathing quickening in his chest, eyes darting around as the walls seem to close in on him. He jumps at the feeling of hands reaching out, touching him, and yelps out softly as he tumbles away.
Someones laughing at him, in the distance, but he can't make out who.
That same voice, the one who called his name, is talking again. Not to him, to another, and then he's being pulled forward. His mind is whirling, stuck between the here and now and the then and there, he remembers the feeling of being pulled apart, turning to dust, and being put back together again.
It takes a moment, but Peter begins to come back, somewhat, he's at school and its Wednesday. They were sitting in third period algebra, before lunch, him and Ned had finished the assignment and were talking between themselves. That's when it gets blurry, something happened, he knows it, his face feels different and his hands are coated in something foreign, but he can't remember passed that.
Peter gasps for a breath, anything, his chest hurts, as he crumbles back against the wall in the bathroom. Ned is kneeling in front of him, hands shaking, not knowing what to do but wanting to help his friend all the same. The bathroom door opens again, MJ, she saw them from her free period in the cafeteria and followed.
"Ned whats wrong?", she's there now too, kneeling beside him, staring at Peter in alarm. The other boy shrugs helplessly, "I don't know. Flash. Flash threw chalk dust at him and he just started freaking out."
"I think he's having a panic attack."
Peter nods numbly, heaving for a single gulp of air, reaching for his backpack behind his two friends.
"Phone...Phone...Call...Call Doc...Doct...Numb...3...Call...3"
It hurts, his chest burns, his lungs feel like they've been lit a flame and set to burn. He clutches his hands to his chest, heaving chaotically, eyes beginning to water. Ned nods, reaching for the backpack he beckoned for a moment earlier, and MJ fishes his phone out of the front pocket. They know the passcode, just as he knows theirs, they're best friends afterall. Ned thumbs through the contacts, to number 3, and his eyes widen at the name.
Now's not the time to lose it though.
The teen presses the number and the call rings out, once, twice, three times-"Hello? Peter? Who is this?"
Peter chokes, "Help...Doc...Can't...Help!", the last word comes as a yelp as he bites for a breath, his lungs constricting painfully, Ned pushes the speaker icon for speaker phone and MJ leans forward, "Hey. He's having a panic attack. Said to call you. We need help. He's turning blue."
Silence takes over the line and for a moment the three teens fear that the other has hung up.
"Where are you?"
Ned looks up at his two friends, "We're in the restroom on the second floor."
"Ok. Thats okay. Send me a picture of it."
"Of the restro-"
"Yes. Just do it!"
"Um yes sir.", Ned fumbles for the buttons at the sharp command, "Mr. Doctor Strange sir.", the camera comes up on the message application and he snaps a photo of the empty bathroom, clicking send, another moment passes and they here the buzz of the others phone as the message is recieved, "Good. I'll be right there.", and the line snaps dead. Neither of them question how he's going to get here without having to stop at the office, Peter has told them all about the Avengers and the others, they know all about this Doctor Strange fellow.
Golden Sparks open in the empty restroom behind them, and all three peer over at them, as the sparks turn into a swirling ring of gold, and a portal opens right there. Out steps a man, blue robes and red cloak billowing behind him with a life of its own, and the portal closes behind him with a flick of his fingers.
Peter reaches out blindly, whining pitifully, his chest is too tight. Doctor Strange is silent as he steps forward, kneeling between the two other teenagers, and presses the third's to his chest, "Peter you need to focus on the now.", the boy's face has indeed gone blue, lack of sufficient oxygen hitting him harder then ever, "Match my breathing, in and out, slow it down."
Wordlessly, the other two move, the girl whom he knows to be MJ gathers a wad of paper towels and dampens them under cold water from the sink, and returns to dab them at her friends red, heated, face. As the other, Ned, goes to check the door and make sure that no one comes in while he's there to work. Kid has amazing friends, they could all use friends such as these, he's extremely lucky to have them.
"What happened?", the question comes out sharper then he intends it to, but the children on either side of him are less then phased, and the girl turns to answer for both boys, "Flash. He threw chalk dust at him. Then he just freaked out."
"I brought him here. Too many people."
Doctor Strange nods approvingly; in both the actions of the boys friends and as the boys rapid breaths slowly calm to wheezing gulps and continue to steady out. He cannot take the boy, people would question as to why he went to the restroom and didn't come back, though he wishes to.
"How many more classes are left in the day?"
Ned checks his watch, "We have three more Mr. Doctor Strange sir and then two free periods."
"We can leave during those. We were going to. Plans were to go to the park."
The Park was a good idea, the spiderling needed to get out more, and patrolling the city did not count as getting out of the house. Nor did the walk between his Aunts to the Tower or the Sanctum.
"I can't take you with me Peter.", the boy is finally relaxing, his chest no longer heaving, but he keeps his hand pressed to the doctor's chest all the same, "You know that. But you three can come over after class lets out. You know the way I'm sure.", Peter nods in comfirmation to the inquiry and statement, he knows the way for sure at this point. Strange nods again, "Try and keep calm for the rest of your classes. Keep focus on the real objects.", he turns to peer at the boys friends, "Pinch him. If he seems to daze out, a slight pinch to the arm, it will jolt him back to the present.", they nod, faces set to firm determination, the friendship between the three is obvious and clear. Peter finally releases his hold on the doctors front and grapples to stand, his friends rush forward, grabbing an arm each, and help him to his feet. The doctor watches a moment, reaching for the discarded backpack, before standing himself.
"Are you okay?"
Peter reaches for it as he holds it out for him, nodding silently, "I think..I think I'm good.", another approving nod, "Good. If anything else happens call me. I will wait your arrival after your classes.", he checks them over, the three of them, once more with a single glance, and is gone in the next moment. Peter heaves a breath of amazing clear air, and smiles at his two friends, they return the gesture in kind, "Thanks guys.", they know, somewhat, the things he remembers.
He's lucky to have them and he knows it.
Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
-Helen Keller
Peter kicks his socked feet lazily over the arm of the couch he'd claimed for the afternoon, thumbs weaving over the keyboard of his phone rapidly as he responds to his friend in turn, humming under his breath a tune he'd heard the other day. Beside him, seated in an ornate old looking arm chair is the doctor, reading another dusty novel, a steaming cup of tea on the only table that seperates them.
A few giggles escape the sixteen year old, and the older man raises an eyebrow without looking over to him, "Ask your question Peter.", brown eyes peer up at him from over the top of his phone, "Doctor Wizard, would you be willing, for little poor me, to open a portal for my friend Shuri to come visit?"
Stephen hums, closing the book without marking the page, and sets it delicately on the side table next to him, "Poor little you?, milking it just a tad aren't we?", Peter smiles at him innocently, "Shuri, as in the Princess of Wakanda, Shuri?", and the teen nods. The princess, as they found out during the last Avenger's meeting (Stephen still wasn't an Avenger but when it involved the circumstances it did he made his presence known), remembered just as much as they did, if not more then he himself.
The two teens had met up in the stone before they'd found anyone else, there were things that they had gone through during that period of isolation that they would never share with the others, it was no secret, no mistaking it, that the soul stone had responded to them in some sort of way. It did not surprise him that they stayed in contact after such an experience.
"I will not hold the portal long.", the doctor stood, book forgotten, and reached for the magic humming just under his skin, the golden portal to be opened with practiced ease, and Peter cheered softly, jumping up over the arm of the couch to race to his side. The cloak of levitation, a dirty enabler, wrapped around the boys shoulders, "She's ready.", that brought a pause, and the elder looked down at the younger with narrowed eyes, "Did you assume that I'd say yes?"
"Of course not!"
"I can read your mind."
"Then you should know that I'm lying through my teeth!"
He heaved an amused sigh and opened a portal for the teen princess to cross through, Shuri was waiting for them, strap of her night bag curled around one shoulder, and waving happily, "Spider and Doctor Wizard!", she jumped through, waving her goodbyes to her brother, and Stephen nodded once to the king as he let the portal close.
Peter and Shuri giggled excitedly, finishing their 'super secret' handshake, "What up!"
They grinned at each other, ignoring the doctor for a moment, and Stephen looked between the two of them cautiously.
"So you remember the plan if I ever go down, right?", Shuri giggled, Peter nodded vigorously, and Stephen blinked, "Of course!"
"Tell me."
"In the case of you're ever being attacked, as you fall to the ground, I am to sing MMMM WHATCHA SAY no matter the circumstances."
Shuri nodded proudly, "Good. I'll do the same for you of course."
He felt his lips twitch when Peter nodded seriously, "How did the grape perish!", and Shuri responded with, "The combined power of Doctor Wizard, your Irondad, and Shaggy!", and then they turned as one, "Stephen yer a wizard!", he shook his head firmly, a finger held out to both of them sternly, "No.", but led them into the inner sanctum anyway, a smile playing at his lips at their soft chatter.
Family: An anchor during rough waters.
-Unknown
"They told you.", Wong's sudden voice from beside him made him jump, and though Stephen Strange would never admit to it out loud, the smirk the man wore indicated that he saw the slight movement from the tactile man next to him, "About what happened.", there was no question as to who he was referring to, they both stood in the doorway to the library, arms crossed over their chests, watching the two teenagers as they slept peacefully on the large couch in front of them. The soft chatter of a forgotten movie playing before them on the laptop situated on the table. His cloak covering both like a safety blanket, protecting them from the cold and the memories, as best as it could.
Strange nodded solumnly, "They did.", he watched them carefully, "And?", Wong turned to follow his gaze once more, and the doctor hummed from within his chest, "And? We owe them so much more then we give them credit for."
Silence fell between them for a moment. In all his years, Strange would never share what they told him, not to a single soul. He would never share how he'd found them, locked in an internal battle of wills, staring at one another in a way that was so unnatural it almost rocked him to his core, the look in their eyes too faraway and so haunted, they looked as though they'd aged centuries in a matter of moments. A word would never escape him as a sob spilled from the Princess's lips, nor how Peter had gone unnaturally pale as he stuttered, as they told him what they had done for the stone.
Stephen would take it to his grave.
He left his companion in the doorway as he stepped forward, stepping around the couch lightly, pushing the top of the laptop closed, and pulling a blanket down over the cloak and it's two charges.
Wong smiled at him from the door way, "You've gone soft.", he hummed, chuckling under his breath as they left the two to their sleep, "They've grown on you. The great Doctor Strange. Taken with two child geniuses."
"Sure, but lets keep this between us, I can't handle any more wit from those two."
"Afraid they'll get others to call you 'Doctor Wizard' too, Strange?", Wong snorted at the nickname that the other had been so likened with by the pair.
"No one else would ever get away with it like those two do."
He never wanted to have children; children were messy. They were loud. Needy. Obnoxious. There was no time in his schedule and doings to be caring for the messy whiny annoyances. He wasn't the parental type, wasn't the type to kiss booboos better or hold you when you felt sick or comfort you after having a nightmare.
Among the desires he had, having children was never one of them, not even in the eternal futures that he could possibly have. Everytime he brought up these facts, Wong would only laugh at him, and something above them would crash to the floor.
"Peter did it!"
"I did not Shuri!"
That being said, Stephen Strange mused, he somehow ended up with two of them.
Thanks for reading folks! Please be gentle! It's my first Avengers fic! Infinity War broke me guys. I broke me real bad. And then the trailer for Endgame? R.I.P monkeygirl. So I came up with this piece of work here for my will to live on to come back. Good old DoctorDad and Spiderson + BFF!Shuri to cure the soul guys. Sorry if it seems kind of rushed or the characters too OOC!