Chapter 3

May 2nd 2000, Metro-General Hospital (NYC), USA – Earth-199999

Sage looked at the young girl her age, lying on a hospital bed, still asleep, and sighed. "Not that I don't want her to come home with us, but why her of all people? I've never even met her."

Sirius was standing in front of a window, looking at the view outside, his back to her. At her question, he turned around. "She needs a family, so why not us? She lost her parents and little brother in the accident. She's all alone. I thought you, of all people, could understand that."

"I do. It's just…well, people lose their parents every day, so why her specifically? Did you know her parents or something? How did you even know she was here?"

"Do you remember Karl Malus? The doctor that cured your genetic disease? Well, he's the one that saved Jessica's life. And he's the one who told me about her. Jessica needs someone to take care of her and I figured, the two of you would get along. You do have things in common after all."

Sage rolled her eyes at her father. "Why? Because we're both orphans?"

"Because you went through something tragic and traumatic at a young age, just like her – you know what that's like. You can help her get better."

Sage sighed again. "Fine. I guess you're right."

"What's really bothering you, Sage?"

Sage shrugged. "I guess I got used to being just the two of us."

"You know that Jessica's presence in our life won't change anything between us, right? You'll always be my daughter. Nothing and no one will ever change that."

"I know. I know I'm being stupid, but after everything…I guess I'm just scared things will change, or something bad is going to happen or something. I don't know."

"Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise you."

Sage nodded and turned to look at the brunette on the bed. Sage noticed Jessica squirming uncomfortably, though her eyes were still closed. A tear fell from her right eye and a pained gasp escaped her lips.

"Jessica?" Sage called out. "Jessica? Are you awake?"

Jessica breathed shakily before finally opening her eyes.

"Look, she's awake," Sage said, turning to look at Sirius.

Sirius approached the bed as well and leaned towards Jessica. "Hello, Jessica. I know you must be confused right now, but everything's going to be okay."

January 15th 2015, Hell's Kitchen (NYC), USA – Earth-199999

Sage paced the length of her living room, biting her lower lip in thought. Should she call her? She needed to, right? But what was she supposed to say? She couldn't tell Jessica about the Man in the Mask, she would freak out. She would try to get involved and things would get ugly. Jessica could be extremely overprotective of her, especially after…well, better not to think about that. She had every reason for it, of course, but she didn't want M and Jessica to know about each other. Jessica wouldn't take well the news that she helped a masked vigilante or that she was, possibly, in danger from the Russian mob because of him. Not that she regretted helping him, of course. It was the right thing to do but Jessica wouldn't see it that way. Jessica would just accuse Sage of being reckless, of putting herself in danger by playing at being a hero.

Sage loved her sister, but she hated her way of thinking. Just because Sage didn't have super-strength like Jessica, didn't mean Sage couldn't take care of herself or that she had to be treated like a porcelain doll.

So, she needed to come up with an excuse as for why she had to leave her apartment. Something simple. Maybe something like a rat infestation in the building – it wouldn't be that weird, given the building in question.

"Okay, I'm calling her," Sage decided. The phone rang for long minutes and Sage wondered if Jessica was still sleeping; given her odd hours, Sage wouldn't be surprised.

"What?" Her sister's voice came from the other end of the line. Yup, definitely still sleeping.

"Hi, Jess. It's me."

"Sage?" Jessica answered, seeming more alert. "Has something happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I just wanted to let you know that I'll have to leave my apartment for a few days. There's a rat infestation in the building so I have to find new accommodations for the time being. I'll be staying at my colleague's house – the one I catsit for."

"Rat infestation? Ew. I don't get why you keep living there. Even my apartment is better than the one you live in."

"You know why. I used up most of Sirius' inheritance to pay for college, Med School and the residency fees. Until I become a real surgeon, that apartment is the best I can afford. I don't want to waste the rest of my inheritance in rent, just to afford a fancier apartment. This one I'm in is fine, for now."

"If you'd only decide to sell the Penthouse, you wouldn't have this problem and you know it."

"I know," Sage said, knowing Jessica was right. "I just…I don't know. I don't want to keep it but I don't want to sell it either. It was our home. Sirius' home. It's basically the only thing I've left of him."

"Not the only thing. And, anyway, I'm sure he would have wanted you to sell it if you are determined not to live in it."

"Yeah, I'll…I'll think about it, alright? But, let's stop talking about this. How are you, Jess?"

Jessica sighed on the other line. "You know me. Same old, same old."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

"Sometimes. But I'm coping."

"Drinking until you're unconscious is not coping. Perhaps you should see your therapist again. It could help."

"That quack that had me reciting street names from back home? No, thanks."

Sage sighed. "A proven method for managing PTSD."

"Two hundred bucks for, 'Birch Street, Cobalt Lane, Bullshit Drive!'" Jessica's voice was rising, her irritation clear.

"Alright, if you don't want to go, I won't insist."

"Thank you," Jess replied, her voice sarcastic. Then she turned serious. "Look, you know that I would invite you to stay over at my place, but I have only one bedroom and with the fact that my home is also my office…"

Sage laughed. "I know, Jess. That's why I didn't ask. It's fine. It's just going to be a few days, anyway. I'll survive."

"I know. Or, you could always stay at what's-his-name's place."

Sage rolled her eyes, even though she knew Jessica couldn't see it. "Strange and I broke up, you know that."

"Did you, though?"

"It's complicated. It's difficult, truly breaking up with someone you keep working with."

"And you keep having sex with him. So, there's that."

Sage groaned into the phone. "It's messed up, I know. It's like a bad habit I can't break."

"Are you still in love with him?"

"I don't know. I think I'm not, but sometimes…there were great moments between us, you know? So, maybe it's just nostalgia. But even if I was still in love with him, just a little, we don't work."

"So, you need a clean break," Jessica said. She made it sound so easy.

"I know. Of course, I know. But it's easier said than done."

January 16th 2015, Metro-General Hospital (NYC), USA – Earth-199999

"I will never understand why you didn't choose neurosurgery as your specialty. You're the best surgeon this hospital has – except for me, of course," Stephen Strange said, while leaving the OR.

He had performed yet another miracle today, with her help. You could say a lot of things about Stephen Strange, but you couldn't say he wasn't an incredible neurosurgeon. "Your talent is wasted on trauma surgery."

Sage refrained from rolling her eyes, but only barely. They had talked about this so many times, she was tired of defending her choice to him. Just because he was a neurosurgeon, didn't mean all the other fields were useless. "Is that why you always choose me as your second, even though you have five residents under you? You do know that I can't always leave the ER to assist you, right?"

"Relax. It's early morning. The ER is pretty dead right now. I couldn't trust any of my residents for this and you know what I think about Dr. West."

"Oh, I do. You've been very vocal about him, many times."

Stephen smirked at her, "speaking about being vocal…what are you doing tonight?"

Sage rolled her eyes and stopped walking. Strange mimicked her, stopping to stand next to her in the middle of the busy hospital hallway. "You do realize we broke up, right?"

"Why did we break up? I don't remember. We're perfect together. Who else are you going to find that can keep up with your intellect, come on. And the sex is just too good to give up."

"Amazing sex doesn't magically fix your egotistical personality."

"You find my egotistical personality attractive. I know you do."

"No, I find your intelligence attractive, sure. I find confidence attractive, under good regulation. Being an overly arrogant, egomaniac ceased being attractive a long time ago."

"Really?" Stephen asked her, eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Really," Sage said, her arms crossed in front of her chest as a shield. If only she could convince herself of that.

"This sneaking around thing is fun," Stephen said, warm breath puffing at her neck, from his position on top of her. They were standing against the locked door of the supply closet, catching their breath, Sage with her back to the door.

Having sex in a closet was becoming a habit of late, a habit she desperately needed to break. They had broken up, dammit, why couldn't she keep her hands off of him?

"This can't happen again," Sage told Stephen's smug face. She rearranged her clothes in a semblance of order, trying to appear resolute.

"You always say that, and yet we always end up here, in the end."

Sage stood up, her back straight, as a way to find the courage she needed to end this thing between them, once and for all. "I mean it, this time, Strange. This needs to stop. We broke up for a reason and sex is not going to solve the problems we have. We're much better off as friends and colleagues. It's better this way."

Strange's face crumbled, for just a second – so brief, she almost thought she had imagined it. Then his expression changed to the one she was more familiar with. "How long is going to last, this resolution of yours? A day, two? We both know you can't really stay away from me. We're meant to be together."

Sage shook her head at him. "No, Strange. We're not." She left the closet and him behind, without a backward glance. She tried to ignore the stinging pain in her chest. Perhaps she still loved him, after all. But it wasn't enough.

January 18th 2015, 412 Apartment, Hell's Kitchen (NYC), USA – Earth-199999

"You've been busy," Sage told M, while stitching the bleeding wound on his shoulder. A deep gash, probably caused by a knife or dagger – hell, perhaps even a sword; these days everything was possible.

"Yeah," M said. He sat on a chair, face devoid of his mask – or whatever it was, that thing he would use to cover half his face –, dark, tousled hair, expressive, dark brown eyes, a few-days-old stubble covering his chin and cheeks, bare-chested, his torso littered with bruises and old scars. It was unfair how attractive he was; it was very distracting, especially standing so close to him. "Ow!" he winced and Sage grimaced.

"Sorry. So, how's that working out for you?"

"You should see the other guys."

"I have. The one you threw off the roof, at my place? He's in a coma. Do you know that?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it but…" Sage didn't know how to finish that sentence; 'but I shouldn't have helped you because I'm a doctor' or 'but I should, at least, feel guilty about it.' What was the right thing to feel and say, in this case? "How do you feel about that?" Sage asked him, instead.

M didn't look very remorseful, a smirk gracing his lips. "I'll live. Why? Do you feel guilty?" He asked her, sounding genuinely curious.

Sage breathed deeply, uncertain how to answer. "I should feel guilty. We put a man into a coma, after all."

"We didn't. I did."

"Same difference. I helped you do it. I'm just as responsible," Sage said, adding one more stich. Two more left, and then she was done. "And yet…I don't really feel bad about it. Am I a terrible person?" She wondered aloud.

"I don't think a terrible person would have bothered saving a masked vigilante."

"My sister thinks that I go looking for trouble. She still doesn't understand that trouble usually finds me. Case in point…" she gestures towards him and M grinned.

Julia's black and white cat jumped on the counter. He had a real fascination with the kitchen sink. "Horace! Down, now!" The cat turned his head to look at her, meowing in protest. Sage rolled her eyes at him. "Don't think those cute, little eyes will soften me up. Get down!" Horace meowed again but did as he was told.

"You know, I was supposed to be coming in, feeding this guy twice a day while my friend was out of town. Instead, I'm here, living in an apartment that is not mine, hiding out. I told my sister, my building has a rat infestation. It's a miracle she didn't figure out I was lying since she's a P.I. and all. A very good one."

"Just a while longer. Just till I know the Russians aren't looking for you."

"I'm not the one that looks like they've been through the grinder. You really need to get some kind of body armor or something," Sage said covering the wound with a gauze. Their fingers brushed against each other when M raised his hand, replacing hers, holding the gauze in place. Sage had her gloves on and yet, she felt a slight current traversing her skin all the same. She mentally shook her head. The last thing she needed was to develop a crush for a masked vigilante, of all people. She didn't even know his name, for fuck's sake.

"It would slow me down too much," M answered.

Sage scoffed. "So will a bullet."

"You worried about me?" Even without looking at him, she could feel the smugness in his question.

"What if I were?" Sage asked back. What was the point in denying it, anyway? Of course, she was worried for him.

"I would tell you I'm a big boy, and not to be." There was still a hint of smugness in his face – the mixture of confidence and charm that she was a sucker for.

Sage tried to suppress the beam, eager to escape her lips, but she wasn't very successful. She cut a piece of tape to cover the gauze with. "Right. That's why you keep ending up here."

"Well, maybe I just like the sound of your voice."

"Sure, you do," Sage said, rolling her eyes at him. "So, what happens the night you come by I'm already talking to someone else?" She doubted such a thing would occur any time soon – not after finally breaking things up with Strange, for good this time – but it wouldn't do to make him think she was just waiting for him to show up at her door – or window, as was the case here.

M smiled, but his tone had a hint of something there, she couldn't identify. Disappointment, maybe? "Yeah, it crossed my mind."

"Yeah?" Sage applied the tape to the gauze and then removed her gloves from her hands.

"Here." M said, then, taking a black burner phone from the front pocket of his pants.

Sage looked at him, confused. "Um, you shouldn't have?" She took it from his hands anyway.

M chuckled. "I didn't. The burner's for me. Memorize the number, put yours in. Next time I need to come by, I'll call."

Sage opened the burner and searched for the phone number. A glance at it was all it took for her to memorize it. She closed it a second later and got up from the stool she was sitting on, throwing him his black shirt and taking off her gloves. "By 'come by,' do you mean stumble in, bleeding half to death?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"You're gonna get yourself killed," she told him, while typing her own number into the phone. "You really gotta ease up."

"No, I can't," M said, while putting his shirt back on, voice muffled. "Not yet."

"You sound just like my sister when she gets obsessed over a case. Let me guess, you think you're close to a breakthrough?"

M visibly hesitated, looking uncertain whether to say something or not. "You ever heard the name Wilson Fisk?"

Sage shook her head. "Can't say that I have. Who's that?"

"Just a name somebody gave me. But there's no public record. Nothing on the Internet. Not one mention of Fisk."

"Well, there are ways for people to just…disappear from the public records. Perhaps, he changed his name. Or perhaps, this name this person gave you is not his real name, but only the name his associates know him by. Or maybe whoever gave you his name was lying."

M shook his head, getting up from the chair. "I would have known if he was."

"How?"

"Heartbeat," M answered, approaching her and extending his hand forward.

"Right, of course, heartbeat." She said, giving him back the burner phone. "How stupid of me not to know that. So, what, you're just gonna go out there punching whoever you can, hoping to find somebody who knows this Fisk guy?"

M walked to the still open window from where he had entered. Sage watched him lowering his mask back over his eyes. "Well, apply enough pressure, someone will break. Sooner or later." He climbed out the window and then jumped from the fire escape, as nimble as a cat.