Chapter Three

It was somewhat more disconcerting than he'd expected.

Driving.

Stephen wouldn't admit it, not even to Cloak.

The memories of his accident were incoherent, at best, but still intense enough to pull a knot of fear to his throat.

He looked down at his scarred, numb fingers, gripping the steering wheel. With his extremely diminished sense of touch, he was holding on a lot tighter than was necessary. He felt the tension all the way up to his shoulders.

It also didn't help that Cloaks' collar was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, and its' folds were gripping his chest like a vise.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to reach over, turn on some music.

That simple action was all he needed to relax.

When he did, it wasn't long before he felt Cloak unravel its' collar from his hair to peek out at the passing landscape.

He allowed himself a tiny grin, thoroughly enjoying the slight breeze tickling hair across his forehead. The sun felt wonderful, on his face.

Cloak cautiously lifted its edges to catch the air current, playfully, and Stephen said,

'See? I told you. Amazing.'

Cloak offered a wiggle of agreement, obviously quite thrilled with the play of the wind, as well as the music.

By the time they rolled up to the curb outside Christine's loft, Cloak was enjoying every minute of its' first car ride.

As the Jaguar rolled to a halt, Stephen checked his watch, smiled, glanced over to see Christine stepping out.

Perfect timing.

The look of astonishment on her face was worth it.

He put the car in park, got out to open the door for her.

'Oh, no circle of fireworks, today?' she wise-cracked, and Stephen shook his head,

'Nope. Going traditional.'

She gave a laugh, as she got into the car,

'Stephen, only you would think that showing up for a date in a Jaguar convertible is traditional.'

'I did ask you to go for a drive, if you recall,' he reminded, and he climbed back in.

'Yes. Yes, you did,' she nodded, still smiling, as Stephen pulled away from the curb, headed out of the city.

They rode quietly for awhile, trusting the music to fill the silence.

Cloak reached its' hem over the edge of the car door, windsurfing with it like a child would do with a hand. Christine just shook her head, amused, and confused, as always, when it came to a lot of things that were part of Stephens new life.

'Why? I mean, why the car?' she asked, suddenly, 'I didn't think you needed one, anymore, to get wherever you wanted to go.'

Stephen shrugged, observed,

'It's not always just about the destination. Sometimes, it's the journey.'

'Words of wisdom from Stephen Strange,' Christine intoned, mock baritone, pulling a smile to his face.

'There's much more opportunity for conversation, this way,' he added, sending a warm glance her way.

She returned it, agreed,

'Also true,' then laid her hand on his thigh, a soft caress.

Her tender gesture caught him completely off guard, caused a hopeful leap in his heart.

Gently, but firmly, he wrapped his hand around hers, gave a squeeze, which she returned.

Cloak curled a suspicious quirk of its' collar toward the display of affection, confused by the interaction, but trusting its' Chosen knew what he was doing.

They were nearly out of the city when Christine's phone began to buzz for attention.

Stephen gave an involuntary frown when Christine mumbled,

'Sorry,' and dug into her purse.

'Don't answer it,' Stephen suggested, irritably, as she scowled at the caller ID.

'It's the hospital,' she informed, worriedly.

'They have other doctors on staff, besides you. Why are they calling on your day off?' Stephen grouched, added,

'Let someone else handle it, for a change.'

Christine tossed him a disgusted look, and answered,

'Doctor Palmer.'

As she listened, her expression melted from disdain to horror, and she whispered,

'Oh, my God.'

'What is it? What's wrong?' Stephen insisted, pulling the car to the berm so his full attention could be focused on Christine.

'I...I'll get there, as soon as I can,' she stammered, looked at Stephen, face twisted in fear. It took her a few seconds to form what she wanted to say, as she disconnected the call,

'Doctor West...Nick...he took my shift so I could have the day off.

'An ER patient, wired on Meth...went psychotic, attacking...everyone...'

Eyes wide, filling with tears, she finished,

'He got ahold of some surgical instruments...Nick tried to stop him, protected the rest of the team, but the guy was...crazed...he went after Nick...'

She bit her lip, and Stephen took her hands, an attempt to calm her down.

'Stephen, Nick might die. He was covering for me...it should have been me there in the ER.'

'Better him than you,' Stephen answered, harshly, without thinking, and Christine's mouth dropped open.

Incredulous, she said, voice breaking,

'How can you say that?' as she pulled her hands out of his.

Stephen shook his head, struggling to override his frustration with reason,

'I just meant...'

Christine held her hand up, stopping whatever argument he had.

'Please, can we just...can you just...get me to the Hospital? They're taking him into surgery.'

'What do they expect you to do?' he snapped.

'I don't know!' she cried, and buried her face in her hands.

Carefully, Cloak slid its' edge toward her arm, offered a soft, comforting stroke, which, for some obscure reason, made Stephen even angrier.

Without another word, he checked his mirrors, and jerked the wheel hard left, steering the Jaguar up onto the asphalt, and headed back into the city.

As the car rolled to a halt in front of the Hospital, Christine flung the door open, was ten feet away before Stephen even managed to step out.

'Christine!' Stephen called, halting on the sidewalks' edge, a hint of desperation in his tone.

She stopped, looked back, her features unreadable.

Stephen took a hesitant step her direction, sighed, spread his hands, managed,

'Call me?'

She gave a sharp nod, then was gone, without a backwards glance.

All Stephen could do was stare after her, feeling like he'd been gut punched.

Cloak tightened on his shoulders, gave a sharp shove forward, urging him to follow, which was the last straw.

'Don't tell me what to do!' Stephen snarled, viciously, into its' collar, as he spun on is heels, got back into the car, and skidded it back onto the streets.

Realized he hadn't forgotten, at all, how to drive fast.