Chapter 3

"Help! I need help over here!"

Strange looked up from the runes in the ancient book he studied and rolled his eyes. He really couldn't be bothered right now with one of the acolytes screwing up a spell. It hadn't been that long ago that they'd finally gotten the front hall cleared of all the snow and ice. Where was Wong anyway?

He glanced back down at the runes, still trying to figure out the mystery surrounding them. A disturbance in space and time had happened a few months ago, sending ripples of imbalance everywhere. He knew he had contributed to this, but could not figure out why. It gnawed at him, knowing he had to fix it or else the consequences could be dire.

"Help, Master Strange! He needs a doctor!"

Strange huffed, pulling his eyes away from the book again. Now one of them has gone and injured themselves! He rushed out of his study and down the hall. His cape followed, latching itself to him as he moved.

As he entered the front hall, his eyes widened as he watched two acolytes carrying Spider-Man inside. Blood had soaked the superhero's costume and dripped on the floor. It created a red trail as they brought him inside.

"What should we do?" the one acolyte asked with worry on his face.

"Put him down before he bleeds out," Strange snapped. "I need to assess him." He kneeled down as they laid Spider-Man on the floor.

Strange took Spider-Man's vitals first. He reached for the mask, but paused for just a split second. He'd been with Spider-Man on one of Thanos' ships, then fought with Spider-Man against Thanos on Titan. Yet, no matter how much he searched his memory, he couldn't remember Spider-Man's face. The guy couldn't have kept the mask on the whole time, right? Strange couldn't even remember his voice, even though he must have talked. In fact, he remembered Stark admonishing Spider-Man not to make any more pop culture references for the rest of the trip. However, he couldn't remember what the pop culture reference had been. Was this all connected with the disturbances he sensed?

"Master?"

Jolting back into doctor mood, Strange slipped the mask off Spider-Man's head. The face he looked down upon was completely foreign to him, even though part of him knew that he should know this kid. He shoved his confusion aside.

The kid didn't look good. His skin had a deathly pallor to it, his lips bloodless. His one eye had swollen shut and bruising blossomed around it.

Strange pressed his fingers to the pulse point. Still beating but thready from blood loss. He breathed but shallowly. Moving to the wound in his abdomen, Strange saw an obvious penetration. He probed it but there was too much blood pooling for him to find the bleeder. Instead, he weaved a small shield of magic to put pressure on it.

"He needs surgery." Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Strange stood up.

"This better be an emergency, Stephen," the female voice on the other end answered.

"It is. Is OR 2 open?"

Dr. Christine Palmer sighed. "Yes. You?"

"Not me this time, but discretion is needed. Bring two nurses and an anesthesiologist that can keep a secret."

"You're lucky it's slow. I'll meet you there."

Strange hung up, slipped the phone back in his pocket and scooped Spider-Man up in his arms. "When Wong finally makes an appearance, fill him in," he directed the acolytes.

They nodded, then warily eyed the bloody floor.

Awkwardly moving his hand as he carefully balanced Spider-Man's body, he opened a portal into an empty operating room at the hospital. The portal closed behind him.

As he laid the kid down on a gurney off to the side, Christine burst through the door. She stopped short when her eyes fell on her patient. "Spider-Man? Damn, he wasn't okay."

Strange frowned. "You know what happened to him?"

"We got a call for an ambulance from the cops saying Spider-Man got impaled by some kind of rhinoceros bad guy. But Spider-Man refused it, said he was okay and swung away."

"He's definitely not okay. He's lost a lot of blood. I put a magic shield in there to put pressure on the bleeder."

Christine's one eyebrow went up, as if mimicking Spock, but she nodded. Then she stuck her head back out the door. "You, we need to do a transfusion. Go get 2 units of O neg now."

Strange heard someone take off down the hall.

Christine turned her head to the others waiting outside the door. "This is a VIP patient. I need you both to keep quiet about this. Now let's get prepped for surgery."

"Yes, ma'am." The nurse and anesthesiologist might have reacted internally to seeing a near-dead Spider-Man, but externally they radiated professionalism. He mused that these would have been people he'd have picked for his team as he watched them cut off the costume and place two IV catheters, one for medication and one for the blood transfusion. Christine chose well.

"He's just a boy," she murmured as she pressed her stethoscope to his chest.

As the other nurse returned with the blood bags, Strange told Christine, "I'm going to scrub in with you."

"What? You can't do surgery with your hands! Have you even renewed your medical license since the Blip?"

"I'm not doing the surgery," he said calmly. "You are. I'm just assisting you. You'll need someone suctioning and holding clamps. It's not brain surgery. Plus, you won't be able to get through that shield without me."

Christine huffed. "Fine. But at least go put on some scrubs. You can't operate in that outfit. "

"You're the boss," he smiled smugly. Then he turned on his heel and headed to the nearby men's locker room. He already knew it would be empty by this time of day. As he quickly changed into spare scrubs, he marveled at how excited he was to get back into surgery. He thought he'd made peace with having to give up that part of his life, but he had to admit he had missed cutting.

He chuckled as his cape attempted to reattach itself around his neck. He gently pried it off. "Sorry, buddy. You're not sterile." He opened a portal to safely store his stuff, not trusting a locker, then walked back into the surgery suite.

Blood now flowed into Spider-Man's arm and the kid didn't look so pale. Color had returned to his lips.

"We ready?" he asked impatiently.

The anesthesiologist answered, "Just got to get him intubated." He held up a syringe containing the agent to completely anesthetize Spider-Man so they could keep him asleep through the whole procedure.

As if to emphasize the need for it, a groan emerged from the patient. All eyes flew down to the kid as his one good eye fluttered open. His hand swiped at his face. "What happened?" He attempted to sit up, struggling.

Strange rushed over to push him back down. "It's okay. You're in a hospital."

Spider-Man's gaze fell on Strange and recognition lit his face. "Dr. Strange! Oh, I mean, Master Strange, sir! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to contact you, sir, but I didn't know where else to go. I - Oh my god, there's still a giant hole in my stomach!" he cried as he looked down at himself.

Words died in Strange's throat. This kid stumbling over his name, calling him sir then panicking sent a nauseating wave of deja vu through him. He knew this kid beyond just the Spider-Man persona. Yet, any memory he attempted to recall ran into a solid wall in his mind. An unnatural wall.

Christine shoved Strange out of the way. "Hey, kid! We're going to fix that right now." She took Spider-Man's hand. "What's your name?"

"Um, Peter. Peter Parker. Ah, ma'am? I don't have health insurance." A look of concern crossed the kid's face.

"Don't worry," Christine smiled down at him. "This one's on him." She nodded to Strange.

Strange snorted.

Christine took the syringe of sedatives and plugged it into Peter's catheter. "Now, Peter, I need you to start counting down from ten."

"Okay...10...9...8..."