"Focus, Stephen," you coax with your eyes closed. The two of you are sitting cross-legged on the floor of the meditation room. Luckily there is no one else around to be disturbed by your frequent interjections. "Managing one's mental state is one of the highest forms of self-discipline."
"Yeah, yeah. I just don't see how sitting here thinking 'happy thoughts' and regulating my breathing is going to help my hands," he mutters in disbelief.
"You have absolutely no patience."
"I'm a doctor, I have plenty of patients."
You cringe inwardly at his terrible pun, and yet you can't help but smile to yourself in amusement.
"So you do have a sense of humor..." Stephen notes lightheartedly.
"I thought I told you to close your eyes, Strange!" you scold as your own eyelids shoot open and you are met with his entertained gaze. He studies your expression carefully, making you uncomfortable.
"Alright look, if you're not going to take this seriously-" you begin, about to stand up and leave.
"No, I am. I'm sorry," Stephen apologizes with a sneer. "Please continue."
You look at him skeptically but oblige. Time to try a new tactic.
"Hold out your hands."
Strange isn't too keen on the idea, but hesitantly obeys.
You reach out gently and grasp his fingers, steadying them.
"Now look at your hands and tell me what you see."
Strange studies his extremities with an irrepressible disgust upon his face. "Scars, tissue damage, weakness…"
You shake your head in disagreement. "You're thinking one-dimensionally," you criticize. "Beyond what's merely visible- what do you see?"
Stephen looks at you with ridicule. "That doesn't make any sense, how can I see something that isn't visible?"
You roll your eyes. "Do you want to know what I see?"
Stephen doesn't say anything, but patiently awaits your analysis.
You look at his hands, running your thumbs along the scars on his fingers. "I see history and experience. Change and adversity. Your hands are more than just physical tools, Strange. I want you to remember what it felt like to have complete control over them. Imagine the steadiness you had in the operating room. The ease with which you were able to move without thinking… What did it feel like?"
"It felt… natural." His voice becomes strained at the memory. "It felt powerful. Cutting into flesh and manipulating the human body on a micro scale… knowing I had complete authority over myself and my patient." He exhales. "God I miss that."
Very slowly, you let go of the doctor's hands. They were still shaking of course, but the tremors had visibly diminished.
"You see, Strange? The mind is more powerful than you think. Meditation is one of the highest forms of self-discipline."
Stephen furrows his brow and looks at you funny. "You said that already."
Shit, you inhale sharply, chastising yourself and quickly losing focus. "Right, sorry. Why don't we take a break."
"But-"
"We'll continue this afternoon," you reply hastily, already halfway to the door.
Hours later...
"There you are." It was Stephen's voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
You sigh disappointedly, dropping the pen you'd been making notes with. A part of you wishes you'd never shown him this place. The library had always been your sanctuary- your escape. Aside from Wong, who thankfully wasn't talkative, you could always rest easy in the library. Until now that is.
"Did you need something Strange?" you ask in the calmest voice manageable.
Much to your horror, he slides into the seat directly across from you, making himself at home.
"Not particularly, no. But it is mid-afternoon and the training grounds are fairly empty…"
"I'm taking the rest of the day off," you announce casually.
You can do that? Stephen wonders, raising a curious eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd be thrilled at the chance to punch me in the face again…"
"Believe me, it's tempting."
Stephen smirks, pleased that he is beginning to make sense of you. "Alright… well, what am I supposed to do?"
"Look, Strange, I didn't come to Kamar-Taj to be a babysitter. And you're a doctor as you so frequently like to remind everyone. Go find some way to pass the time!"
You return your attention to the open book before you, but you can feel Stephen's eyes looming.
"You really don't like me, do you?" he asks, though it was more of a statement than a question.
"Excuse me?"
"You're the only person here who hasn't told me what an ass I am to my face- but you clearly think it, which makes me wonder if you don't hate me the most of anyone."
"I don't hate you Stephen," you answer honestly. "I just- prefer to be alone."
"Why is that?"
"I'm comfortable that way, okay!" you exclaim defensively.
"And people say I'm disagreeable..."
"You don't know anything about me," you snap, tensing your jaw in frustration.
"I know you haven't been here long."
You cross your arms defensively. "And how's that?" you ask, humoring him.
"The Ancient One uses no title when addressing you, just your name- Y/N. Either you're no good at what you do, or you simply haven't been here long enough to work your way through the ranks. And your attitude well, that's another story entirely. You clearly have trust issues- probably stemming from some childhood trauma- which is why you push everyone around you away."
"Wow," you say with unamused sarcasm as you gather your books and prepare to leave. "Regular Sherlock Holmes, you are..."
"Oh please," Stephen sneers. "It doesn't take a genius to see what's right before him."
"That's ironic coming from you Strange- the man with an ego so big that he can't see past his own nose."
You stare into his blue eyes angrily for a couple of tense seconds before turning away and storming off in disgust.
Stephen's intense gaze follows you all the way out of the library before shifting sideways when he senses another presence. Wong stands inconspicuously on the opposite side of the stacks, unmoving. He'd clearly overheard the whole thing.
"What?" Strange asks innocuously.
Wong simply shakes his head in disapproval before returning to his work.
In his boredom, Stephen seeks out Mordo to practice some hand to hand combat.
"So where's Y/N?" he asks as Strange wrestles with putting on his wrist guards.
"She's not speaking to me right now."
Mordo shakes his head and snickers knowingly. "Oh Strange, when are you going to learn to hold your tongue?"
"Oh, you just assume it's my fault?"
"Am I wrong?"
Stephen's eyes shift downward. "So what's Y/N's story anyway?" he asks, changing the subject.
"It's really not my place to tell," Mordo replies, looking up as he finishes tying his boots.
"Oh come on-" Stephen objects. "What malintent could I possibly have with that information?"
Mordo gives it some consideration before continuing.
"She was orphaned as a child," he explains. "Bounced from family to family, but ultimately to no avail."
"Unfortunate, but not terribly unusual," Stephen remarks, expecting something more.
Mordo pauses, giving Stephen a disapproving look. "Despite the unfavorable circumstances, Y/N attended university and rose to the top of her field."
"Which was?"
"(insert an area of study that interests you)."
"-and?" Stephen prompts.
Mordo hesitates, not feeling quite right about sharing the intimate details someone else's past. But he hoped, perhaps naively, that the information would help Strange begin see outside himself. "Two years ago she suffered a brain aneurysm. There were- complications, which led to short term memory loss."
Stephen's expression changes, but remains difficult to read.
"All she can remember is a past that she wants desperately to forget," Mordo says poetically, the compassion evident in his voice.
"Is it chronic or acute?" Strange asks, quickly slipping into full-on medical mode.
"I don't know the details," Mordo admits. "You're intrigued by her Stephen. I can see it in your eyes. But don't let your persistence push her away. The last thing you need within these walls is an enemy."
A/N: Hey guys, thanks for reading! There will be a few more chapters of build up that more or less follow the plot of the movie, only with YOU added into the mix! The romance will come, I promise :)