The Journal of Stephen Strange
Gibbous moon
At nearly seven months, Sydney is changing every day. Both Wilhelmina and I are keeping a close watch on her of course but her general health is robust and her complaints are both minor and common for her situation. I do what I can to make her comfortable and it is difficult to be parted from her for any length of time at this point. How odd to finally recognize paternal instincts for what they are.
However there are legitimate concerns for her dream-depths, and I am aware that the dark malevolence that once hunted our little entity is no longer on that plane of existence. I have warned both Sydney and the child of this and we are all being cautious and alert. Just because we are in this reality is no guarantee that the darkness cannot abide here as well.
The gloom of February held with grey overcast most mornings. Strange found himself missing New York a bit; at least there was more light in the city, albeit artificial. It didn't help that the solstice had passed and the vernal equinox was approaching; consequently the rise of dimensional disturbances kept him busy repairing rifts and battling all sorts of evil.
Wong offered to come to Seattle to keep watch over Sydney but Strange declined. "It's a generous suggestion and I thank you for it, but far more clients and associates come here to the Sanctum seeking me out and I'd prefer they not know of the home in Seattle," he explained.
"True," Wong agreed. "Although should it become necessary, I have arranged a secure floor for Ms Todd and the child to stay here too. Strong as your incantations are, it would seem wise to have options."
"It would," Strange agreed. "As her delivery nears, I fear the hunting darkness will strike, knowing her to be incapacitated during that time."
"Would you prefer for her to give birth here?" Wong asked. "It may be the better choice."
"I will discuss it with Sydney," Strange nodded. "Although I suspect she will want to stay in Seattle. If it's not an option though, at least we will be prepared."
He was getting fond of patting the roundness of Sydney's expanding abdomen; when Strange pressed his hands there he sensed the child, who was always pleased to greet him.
"Every time you do that, the Bump starts wiggling," Sydney pointed out. "Like a puppy in a pet shop window!"
"Exuberance," Strange told her with a hint of gloat. "Our child knows me."
"No excuse for giving me heartburn," she mock-grumbled back. "Speaking of hearts, you haven't forgotten we're going out to dinner tomorrow, right?"
"Of course not," he bluffed, keeping his attention on her tummy.
"It's Valentine's Day," Sydney reminded him dryly. "You do know what that is, right?"
"Valentine's Day?" Strange looked up, ever so slightly panicked. "Ah, that's the romantic one, yes?"
Sydney gave a sigh. "Yes it is," she enunciated slowly. "I've made reservations and we're going to Trop Cher overlooking Elliot Bay for a lovely meal come hell or high water."
"I hope it doesn't come to either of those," Strange replied. "Yes, dinner tomorrow night. For Valentine's Day."
He wasn't precisely worried, but it dawned on Strange that romance was not his strong suit. As a younger man he'd pursued his share of women with gratifying success which had certainly added to his egotistic and selfish ways. Then years of wandering in depression and anger had kept him from relationships in general. Now there was Sydney, who had come into his life from a wholly unexpected angle that hadn't included romance . . . initially. But Things had been Said in the heat of passion that weren't exactly denied in daylight even if they weren't discussed.
However this date was clearly a sign of softening on Sydney's part, and Strange felt a pang of elation. This was an opening; a chance to say in daylight what they truly felt for each other. She'd made it clear this was an important night and on that thought, Strange checked to see what was the standards were for Valentine's Day.
As he looked, he felt a twinge of unease. Flowers were expected, but he had no idea what her favorites were and it would be too crass to ask at this point. Chocolates were also considered de rigueur, yet again, Strange wasn't sure of her preferences—white? Milk? Dark? Too many chances for a faux pas. Cards seemed to be part of the holiday too although the selections left at this late date were either ridiculously vapid or kitsch.
There was one option left, and fortunately Strange knew exactly what was called for, relieved at the realization. Perhaps he had been a bit rusty when it came to romance, but it wasn't too late to rectify that.
-oo00oo-
"Crowded," Sydney sighed, standing close to him near the maître'd's booth. They and several other people were still waiting to be seated as the loud crush of diners, waiters and busboys filled the main room of Trop Cher. Strange looked around, his arm around Sydney's waist.
"A bit. If we are not seated in five minutes I will speak to the management," Strange told her. "In your condition you shouldn't have to wait."
She sighed. "I hate to play the preggo card but I'm not going to last long in these heels. I'm lucky they fit at all."
Strange smiled at her. The dark red silk blouse set off her pale complexion and dark hair wonderfully, and he enjoyed her perfume as he leaned towards her. "You look lovely."
"Thank you. You look pretty yummy yourself," Sydney murmured approvingly. He didn't quite preen but it felt nice she'd noticed his charcoal grey suit.
I've been looking forward to this," Sydney admitted. "It's been a long week, what with the wind gauge blowing away, and being called to deal with the new software updates at the station. Oh, and Desmond brought home a . . . thing. A dead thing he was pretty pleased about and I wasn't."
Strange made a sympathetic noise, working hard not to sound amused. After waiting, he spoke to the Maître d' who noted Sydney's stomach and winced. "A few minutes more I'm afraid, sir—"
It stretched into twenty minutes and when they finally were taken to a table it was squeezed up against the window in the corner of the room. Sydney sat down, clearly glad to be off her feet, her expression pained.
"At last," she sighed. "Don't tell anyone but I'm taking my shoes off under the table."
When the waiter eventually showed up, Sydney had gone to the restroom, leaving her order with him. When she came back, they still didn't have water or drinks. Strange saw her press her lips together. "I guess this will show me for trying to book one of the most popular places for Valentine's."
Strange resorted to a mild mesmeric gaze to pull a passing waiter to them. "Water please, and a whiskey sour."
"I hear and obey," the dazed hipster replied.
Sydney watched him go and giggled. "I shouldn't laugh but that was funny," she admitted. "Thank you."
"It is becoming borderline ridiculous," Strange admitted, leaning over the table to be heard. Sydney nodded and was about to add something else when a shout broke through the noisy conversations.
Three men pushed the waiting customers ahead of them into the dining room. One of them stepped forward.
"Everybody on the floor! NOW!" came the order from the man in the balaclava and black hoodie who was holding a glock. "I want your wallets and watches and purses!" He fired a round into the ceiling for emphasis, the report deafening in the room. "Don't make me ask twice or I WILL use this on you."
People scrambled to the carpet; silverware and dishes rattled and fell, screams echoed.
Strange lunged in front of Sydney without thinking, turning to face the robbers. He twisted his hands, pulling power from the energies in the room, using it to yank away the guns. Two flew into the air; the leader of the group had a stronger grip and turned to seek out the threat. "Stop or someone will get killed!" he yelled.
Someone yelped. Strange realized the robbers deliberately were standing at the doorway, blocking the exit. They had a clear view of the entire room, and anyone moving would be a target at this point. He focused on the leader, preparing to encase the man in a force field.
"God damn it!" Sydney groused, gripping the table and heaving herself up. She flung an arm towards the robber and a huge cloud formed over him, thick and black, radiating ozone.
Shaken out of his concentration, Strange shot her a sidelong glance. "No!"
"Yes!" she shot back. "All I wanted was a NICE romantic dinner out with maybe a little dessert and some nookie afterwards but this just takes the fucking CAKE!"
A strike of lightning hit two inches in front of the robber, followed by the hard slam of a cloudburst all the more impressive for being the same diameter as the average recliner. The heavy crush of the cold rain made him sag forward. The other two robbers, weaponless now, pushed their way back out of the restaurant, running hard.
"But NOOOOO, not only did we have to wait, and not get served but now some JACKASS has to ruin it by trying to ROB us!"
Sydney waddled over to the edge of the storm she'd created and reached in, grabbing the glock and tossing it away. "Thanks a LOT, Fuckwad!"
Strange scrambled forward, grabbing her by the shoulders. "My sweet, think of the child," he murmured, trying to turn her away from the kneeling robber who was trying to crawl out of the storm. Another lightning bolt struck right between his hands and the man whimpered.
"Okay, okay, you're right," Sydney muttered. She bent forward to glare at the robber. "Stay the fuck there, dickhead, until the cops get here. And don't you ever, EVER try this again. Especially on Valentine's Day!"
She lumbered out with as much dignity as she could and Strange turned, waving a quick surge of Confusion through the majority of the room before following her out. Most of the patrons wouldn't remember the exact events; the few that did wouldn't be able to describe either of them well.
At the curb, he caught up with Sydney, who was crying. She slipped into his arms and he hugged her tight, conjuring a spell to conceal and carry them aloft into the night. They flew back over the lights of Seattle until they reached West Haven.
He carried her inside and up the stairs, wondering if he could teleport Wilhelmina at this hour as he gently laid Sydney on the bed.
"Shit. I ruined tonight," she sobbed wiping one cheekbone with the heel of her hand. "I didn't mean to, Stephen, I really didn't. But it was just the last straw!"
"I know, I know," he murmured soothingly. "It really was despicable. But you were magnificent. A little reckless perhaps, but given the aggravation I understand. Right now I'd be happy to make us poached eggs and I know there's a quart of French Silk in the freezer."
Sydney gave a deep sigh. "Yes please. And thank you."
Desmond sensed comfort was needed and curled up at their feet while they ate on the living room sofa. It was long enough for Sydney to stretch out and rest against Strange's chest. Fortunately the eggs turned out perfectly, and the ice cream went down well.
"Well we saved a lot of people and didn't have to leave a tip, so I guess that's a win, although now Seattle's going to know I was at the restaurant AND that I'm pregnant," Sydney sighed.
"Possibly," Strange agreed. "Although the details are muddled. The evening isn't over yet though . . . I do have a gift for you."
She tilted her head back to look up at the underside of his goatee. "Really? You didn't have to do that!"
"I wanted to," Strange assured her. "It's my prerogative, my sweet." He fished out the little box and handed it to her, pleased to see her eyes brighten.
Once the lid was off, Sydney cooed. "Oh Stephen . . ."
"Natural Tanzanite," he rumbled. "And I'm sure you recognize the shape."
"Yes I do," she replied in awe. "Very romantic, Doctor Strange. Please help me put it on?"
The facets cut into the violet stone twinkled as the heart sat just above her cleavage. Sydney turned her head to kiss him and he caught her mouth with tenderness. When she pulled back, she blinked a little.
"So many firsts with you . . . first flowers, first home . . . first jewelry. It's so wonderful and scary at the same time."
That hit hard. Strange nodded. "Firsts take courage and you have so much of that, my sweet. You said yes to our child, you seduced me, you have given me more than I ever deserved in this venture by telling me you loved me . . . first. However, I will say it here and now. I love you, which is a first for me."
She shivered. "Don't make me cry!" Sydney told him with a lopsided smile. "Just . . . take me to bed and we'll bring in the thunder together, sweetheart."
"Yes," he laughed. "We can do that."