Five

Hands Down

Curled up like a beloved dog at the foot of its Chosen's bed, Cloak stirred. Lifted its' collar, one would say sleepily, if one thought a garment would actually need sleep.

Moonlight flooded the room, and it watched as Doctor Stephen Strange moved to stand before the huge glass windows, bathed in the silver beams. Cloak waited a few minutes, before shaking itself upright.

It had come to anticipate a full moon disrupting it's Chosen's sleep.

That, and cold nights.

This was both.

Cloak slid the tall backed chair across the floor, over in front of the window, and Stephen glanced back with a grateful smile.

Noticing he was shivering, Cloak fell onto his bare shoulders, wrapped him in a warming crimson swath as Stephen settled into the chair.

He massaged his scarred hands, face twinged with pain. Cloak fluttered, anxiously, confused, and Stephen gave a tenuous smile.

Then, realized he'd never told any of his history to his Cloak.

Which was a weird thought, no matter how you arranged it.

For some reason, he felt compelled to do so, tonight.

'I have eleven steel pins in my fingers. From injuries sustained in a car accident that should have killed me. Sometimes, especially when it's cold,...they hurt,' he explained.

Cloak curled a hem edge gently toward Stephen's hands, gave a soft stroke along the back.

'I was...a highly respected neurosurgeon. Pioneered medical techniques almost undreamed of.'

He paused, admitted,

'Also, a huge jerk.'

Cloak gave a disgruntled shiver, as if in disagreement, and Stephen laughed.

'I've made some changes.'

Cloak fluttered, as if it concurred.

Stephen smiled, bitterly, continued to rub his aching digits.

'There was also…..severe nerve damage. I couldn't change it, couldn't heal it, no matter how hard I tried. Now, my hands have an extremely limited sense of touch. I used to be able to close my eyes, and, with my fingertips, distinguish the line of a hair beneath eight layers of paper.'

He closed his eyes, sighed,

'Now, I can barely feel well enough, keep my hands steady enough, to hold a hair brush.'

Cloak quivered, a resonance of sadness, and curled a comforting wrap loosely around his forearm, tightened around his shoulders, like a hug.

Stephen fell silent, memories clamoring for release in his head.

He stared at his reflection, gilded argent, in the moonlit glass, and his voice fell, to barely above a whisper.

'Some of the incisions were so delicate they had to be made between the vibrations of my heartbeat. It was as if each...second...stretched into a lifetime.'

He displayed shaking hands, and tears, like sparkling diamonds, trailed down his cheeks.

'What I wouldn't give to have just one more of those seconds,' his voice turning to a desperate snarl,

'Just one, where my hands wouldn't shake.'

Cloak reached out, curled its hem edges around it's Chosens' hands, which had clenched into fists, and gently pulled them close to his chest.

Doing its best to help, the only way it knew how.

It's collar tenderly brushed away tears, and, as it did so, Stephen choked on a bitter sob,

'That's why it never entered my mind. About the gloves.'

Cloak's collar froze, mid-stroke, as Stephen admitted, forlornly,

'You can feel me, but my hands can't feel you.'

Cloak felt as if its very fibers were unraveling. It's folds loosened, fell limply away, with a quiver of pure sorrow.

'No, no,' Stephen snapped, growing angry, grabbing to pull Cloak back up around his arms and hands,

'I don't mean it like that. I don't resent…..'

He shook his head, eyes tight. Struggled to clarify what he meant.

'The Ancient One accused you of being fickle. She was wrong. I have come to know you, as the most loyal companion, most loyal friend, anyone could ask for.'

Cloak trembled, tightened a bit.

'And if this,' Stephen folded a shaking hand into Cloaks fabric, 'makes you, my friend, happy, I don't need hands to understand that.'

Cloak slowly retightened, and Stephen smiled, folded its scarlet softness into his arms, and laid trembling hands to it's comforting embrace.

He chuckled, as Cloak wiped away the last traces of his tears.

'Thank you,' he sighed, softly, closing his eyes, leaning back into the chair.

Cloak settled down tightly onto his shoulders, collar set in an attitude of contentment, and, rocking, ever so slightly, led its' Chosen to sleep.