Stephen was a man dreaming he was a butterfly.
Or perhaps, at one point, he'd been a butterfly dreaming he was a man.
Either way, he stretched his swallowtail wings, black growing into bright blue, shimmering iridescent in the sun, and fluttered away from his perch behind a leaf.
He hummed and sang to himself as he flew, catching the gentle breezes that blew through the forest, leading him down whatever path nature wanted him to go. Stephen the butterfly had never known magic, or evil, or even much in the way of fear, besides keeping himself safe from birds and frogs who wanted to eat him. The world was as warm and perfect as it had been the day he was hatched several weeks ago.
But, of course, he was hungry. He had been hungry as a caterpillar, and still hungered just as much as a grown butterfly, but for nectar instead of leaves.
A cluster of pink milkweed-his absolute favorite-caught his eye as he descended lower into the underbrush. All kinds of insects swarmed over the flowers and leaves. They quietly went about their business, tolerating each other and taking food from the plant as they wished. There was plenty for everyone.
"Morning Christine!" he cheerfully greeted a bumblebee crawling over the tiny flowers, her legs covered in yellow pollen.
"Sorry, Stephen, gotta go," said Christine as she buzzed by him. "Too busy."
"Of course," he said. He wasn't disappointed at all. Bees' lives were much different than his own. Stephen wondered what it would be like to have a hive, sometimes, to have others to care for, a queen to protect. He wasn't sad to be alone, though. That was the life of a butterfly.
He landed on a perfect milkweed blossom and stuck his proboscis deep into the flower, sucking up all the delicious nectar inside.
"Hey, Stephen!" a familiar voice called out to him. A tiny ant wandered across the tops of the flowers, carrying a bit of leaf in its mouth.
"Scott! How have you been? Haven't seen you in a while! How's Hope doing?"
"Hope's great," said Scott the ant, putting down his load for a moment. "She's taking care of larvae right now. Man, I wish I could just fly around all over the place, like you. I've got to do so much work just to keep the colony going."
"Ah, well, I'll be dead in a few weeks," Stephen said indifferently. "That's the trade off, isn't it? Big beautiful wings for one season of-"
"Bird," said Scott suddenly.
Stephen curled his proboscis back up. "Huh?"
"Bird!" he yelled, turning and crawling straight down through the flower cluster to safety.
Stephen gasped, not bothering to look around. He had no choice but to fly.
In the split second it took for him to raise his wings for takeoff, he was no longer a butterfly, but a man kneeling on all fours in the middle of a red-tinged desert.
Stephen looked down at his hands, behind at his legs, utterly disoriented for a moment, wondering where his wings and third set of feet had gone to. Gingerly, he stood up, a little wobbly on only two legs.
This place he'd been transported to was not his home, or anyplace he knew. The red desert stretched in all directions, nothing in it but fine, swirling sand, to one side of him a cliff face with a sheer, tall drop. Off in the distance, almost at the horizon, a shadowy, human-shaped figure hovered and stared at Stephen, coming slowly closer as if it was moving underwater.
A voice, neither male nor female, but razor sharp, pierced through his mind like a sword.
"LITTLE GHOST," it screeched. "WHY BOTHER? LEAVE HIM BE."
Stephen's instincts told him to run with all his might, but found the ground had become like quicksand, sucking him in and holding fast. The figure came toward him, gaining speed, forming a dark, burning cloud around itself, like lava and red lightning floating through the air in slow motion.
"BE THANKFUL I SPEAK IN WORDS YOU UNDERSTAND," the voice ripped through him again, making Stephen wish he could tear out his own eardrums.
His heart pounded in his chest. The figure had nearly made it to him, but it was still just as blurry as when he'd first caught sight of it seemingly miles away. A trickle of lightning slithered its way over across the sand and to his shin, twisting its way up his leg like an octopus testing its prey. Stephen couldn't even scream. He could barely think.
"YOU CANNOT HELP HIM, LITTLE GHOST," shrieked the figure, the lightning making its way to Stephen's heart, "YOUR REALM WILL BE MINE."
Stephen jolted awake to a crash of thunder outside.
He got his bearings as the rumble slowly died away. The room was pitch black. It rained steadily outside, pounding the roof and the window with sheets of water. It took Stephen a moment to remember where he was and why he was sitting up instead of laying down. He'd agreed to stay up to watch Loki, so this had to be Loki's room.
But he hadn't stayed awake, obviously. How long had he been asleep? A few minutes? Hours?
He didn't need to waste time lighting the candle in pitch darkness. With the snap of his fingers, a glowing ball of light appeared and lit up the room. Loki lay on the bed before him, his breathing quiet, his trembling ceased.
For a moment, Stephen thought Loki was finally getting better, but that thought was shot through with pure panic. He was much too still and pale. Stephen leaned over him to get a closer look, feeling his forehead.
He was very, very cold. His pulse was as light and fluttery as a moth frantically beating its wings. Stephen took off his oxygen mask and held up his hand next to his gaping mouth. He wasn't sure he felt anything at all.
Stephen's heart dropped to his feet.
"Sylvie! Christine! Mobius!" he called out, ripping the blankets off of Loki's body. All three of them rushed into the room, Sylvie going straight to Loki's side.
"Oh no, oh no … " she took his head in her hands and pressed him close to her.
Mobius shook his head in disbelief, while Christine stared at Stephen helplessly.
"He's not gone yet," said Stephen. Everyone snapped to attention. "Mobius, get the tempad."
He rushed downstairs and came back up with the tempad in hand.
"Where to?" he asked breathlessly.
"Metro-General Hospital is about three blocks north of the restaurant we were in when you found us," he said. As Mobius punched in the coordinates, Sylvie picked Loki up in her arms as easily as carrying a baby, trying her best to keep his head upright. In the pitiful light, he looked like a pile of sticks held together in a bag of skin.
The portal illuminated the room in rich golden light as it opened, though it flickered worryingly, less steady than it had been the last time Mobius used it.
The hospital hallway lay on the other side of the portal, its walls painted in the vibrant rainbow colors of the pediatric unit. For some reason, the halls looked much shorter than Dr. Strange remembered. The portal had opened in midair and at an odd angle that would dump them straight on the ground if they rushed through. Before he could tell her what to do, Sylvie barged towards the portal, but Stephen caught her just before she fell several feet to the floor.
She violently shrugged his hand off of her shoulder.
"I see it," she scowled, then jumped effortlessly to the hallway floor with Loki in her arms.
"Help!" she cried out, running ahead while Stephen made sure Mobius and Christine got safely to the ground. "Someone! Get help! Please!"
"Sylvie, you don't know where you're going!" shouted Stephen, though he knew it was useless. He was hoping to find an empty room so he and Christine could work on him themselves, but obviously that plan had gone straight into the garbage. Sylvie was already to the nurses' station at the end of the hall.
A Black woman's familiar face popped around the corner, one he hadn't seen in years. Georgia Jenkins came straight to Sylvie's aid, wearing form fitting bright pink scrubs and scuffed pink Crocs, like a neon beacon of the night shift. Stephen couldn't hear anything they said to each other until he got closer.
" … and we'll get a team up here to take care of him right away, okay?" finished Georgia. She did a double take when she saw Stephen and company running to catch up.
"What in the hell? Stephen Strange?" she said, staring at them like they'd come back from the dead. "Doctor Palmer, I thought you were on leave?"
Christine opened her mouth, but before she could explain, Georgia pointed to the sliver of a portal at the end of the hall, slowly fading while Mobius frantically pushed the button on the tempad.
"What is that thing coming out of the ceiling?" she said.
It zapped itself out of existence just as several doctors, nurses and an orderly with a gurney came running out of the elevator and down the hallway. She narrowed her eyes at Stephen, then at Mobius, who stuffed the tempad back in his pocket and gave her a half-hearted grin.
When the team got to the nurses' station, Sylvie lifted him gently onto the gurney by herself, to the surprise of the hospital staff.
"Tachycardia, dehydration, severe muscle atrophy," Stephen automatically told the young doctor unfortunate enough to be stuck on the graveyard shift. "He's been declining, some kind of unknown neurological disorder."
Georgia grabbed a portable station and clicked a few buttons on the computer.
"What's his name, honey?" she asked Sylvie, ready to type it in.
"Loki," she blurted.
Every single person in the room stopped everything they were doing and stared at her. You could have heard a pen click. Stephen groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to scream. Sylvie, at the very least, had the common sense to look like she'd done something horribly wrong. She shut her lips tight and glanced around the room, then to Stephen, as if pleading for help.
"He's not Loki," said Stephen, rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead. "Loki is dead, Sylvie," he added, throwing her a furious glare that could give her signature look a run for its money.
"Right, well, I meant he looks sort of like-"
"We found him outside the hospital," Christine butted in helpfully. "Homeless, probably. He was in bad shape so we brought him in."
Georgia gave all three of them incredulous looks, as though she didn't believe any of them, then began to type.
"A 'John Doe', then," she said to herself.
The team continued to take care of Loki, then started to roll him back down the hall.
"They're going to the ER for now, room two-fourteen, Doctor … I mean Stephen," Georgia corrected herself. Stephen caught her shaking her head at them as the four of them followed the gurney.
Stephen whispered aggressively in Sylvie's ear as they walked.
"Either learn to lie or keep your mouth shut."
"I can't lie when I'm nervous!" she whispered back.
"Then keep it shut!" he hissed.
The team rolled Loki into a room downstairs, Mobius and Sylvie following inside before being ushered back out by a tired looking nurse.
"We'll call you back in a minute, okay?" she said, then shut the door on them.
"They can't do that!" said Sylvie, looking accusingly between Christine and Stephen. Dr. Strange led them away from the door and into the waiting room.
"They think we don't know him," he said. "Everything will be fine. Just act cool, Sylvie, don't break anything."
The forty-five minutes they spent in the plain, grey waiting room felt like an eternity in purgatory. Long-suffering Mobius sat with his back hunched over his knees, rocking back and forth a little as if he was going to be sick. Sylvie hugged herself tightly, her gaze never leaving the door of Loki's room. Stephen cursed himself over and over for falling asleep, and for not checking up on him during the day, and for spending an entire day reading philosophy when he really should have taken Loki to a hospital in the first place. He was worse than he seemed. The best anyone could do here was keep his body alive for a while, though, if they could even do that. He glanced to the door impatiently every time he heard the slightest noise, dreading that familiar scene of the doctor coming to tell them the patient had coded and died.
Eventually, the door opened. Sylvie stood instantly, then sat back down just as quickly. Mobius barely looked up, his eyes red. The nurse that had shooed them out came into the waiting room and smiled at them, to everyone's relief.
"You can come back in, now, if you like."
Sylvie was the first to jump up, of course, but restrained herself from barreling past them all. The four of them snuck in quietly. Loki was a pitiful sight, with tubes in his nose and wires on his chest and an IV in his arm, but at least he was breathing. His trembling had started again, which for the first time ever, was a good sign.
The nurse clicked a few buttons on the computer station in the corner. "He's still got a little tachycardia going on, and we don't think he's going to regain consciousness anytime soon, but he's stable now. Let me know if you need anything."
She left all of them alone and closed the door.
"I told you something was wrong," Sylvie said, staring down at Loki's open-mouthed gaze almost impassively.
"Sylvie, I'm sorry-" said Stephen, but she cut him off again.
"I don't want you to be sorry," she whispered. "I want answers. I want results. I want something to happen, now."
Stephen felt his face grow red. Christine obviously saw it too, and put a hand on his arm as a warning. He shrugged it off and stomped over to her, putting himself between Sylvie and Loki's bed.
"How easy do you think this is?" he said, trying hard not to yell. "No one has ever written about this. All I have to go on are ancient texts and dream advice. I'm basically coming up with a new submission to the mystical encyclopedia and all you can do is snap your fingers and say 'Hurry up'? I don't know what is going on between you two but-"
Stephen stopped himself from saying something he'd regret, but Sylvie's eyes were already wide with shock. Her face grew pale, then she gave a sharp glance to Mobius, who was starting to realize what Stephen nearly implied. Without another word, Sylvie went to sit by the darkened window, away from everyone.
Christine sighed, found a tiny radio in the corner of the room laying on the counter, and turned it on, tuning in to an oldies station Stephen liked. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons' "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" crooned gently through the speakers.
Mobius' mouth twitched in the slightest smile. "I like this song," he whispered to no one in particular.
Dr. Strange leaned on the counter and drummed his fingers impatiently. The nightmare he'd had just before he woke should be his biggest concern now, not whether Loki and Sylvie were having an incestual relationship. That horrible dream had sent him straight back to square one. He thought at least he knew what he was fighting, but whatever that demon was, it wasn't the Scarlet Witch. Nothing good could come of waiting any longer, if that thing he'd met was going to keep its promise. He needed a plan.
Stephen left the room and closed the door, then felt around in his pocket for his phone. Its battery life was as pathetic as Loki, barely hanging on with less than ten percent left. That was just enough to make one very important call.
He dialed Wong's number, who picked up after two rings.
"Strange?" Wong said, his gruff, stern voice music to Stephen's ears. He could hear clacking and clanging in the background: students practicing weaponry at Kamar-Taj. "Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you in days. You have to leave me a note or something, or a text-"
"I'm sorry, Wong," he replied. "Really, really busy. Important stuff. I can explain later. I just need you to send America my way."
"America?" Stephen could imagine Wong's eyebrow raising suspiciously even though he was thousands of miles away.
"Yeah. It's urgent."
After a long pause, Wong piped up again, much too cheery. "Oh, yes! America Chavez! Well, Stephen I would do that-" his voice dropped and grew angry, "-but she took off again. I hoped she had at least run away with you, this time."
"Shit! Crap!" Stephen muttered, pacing around the empty waiting room. "Of course she'd be gone."
"Stephen, what's going on?" said Wong, more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.
He stammered a bit. "Look, it's complicated, Wong. Never mind. I'll tell you later."
"Dr. Strange, as Sorcerer Supreme, I-"
Stephen hung up on him, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and slumped over in a chair. There was no way he could get everyone out without America, not if Mobius refused to use his tempad. There was no other choice now, though. If the village didn't leave, that demon would come for them, and if Mobius didn't want to get them out, Stephen would have to be quite a bit more forceful.
He took a deep breath, then stood up, preparing himself for a screaming fight with Sylvie and Mobius, when he noticed that Loki's door was wide open. Stephen knew he'd shut it. He must not have heard it open over his phone call with Wong.
Stephen cautiously approached, wondering if anyone heard his conversation, and was startled to see a new nurse typing and clicking on the computer.
"Georgia!"
She looked behind her coolly, then leaned on the counter with one hand on her hip. Stephen knew that look well. It always meant trouble.
"Strange," she said. "I have a couple more questions to ask about your ... friend here."
He shot another warning glance to Sylvie, who bit her lip in response.
He scoffed. "You can't just come down here to a different floor and start asking questions about a patient that isn't yours."
A great big smile grew on her face, and if he didn't know her personality, he'd think she was genuinely amused. She let out one loud bark of a laugh.
"Oh, you can't do that?" she said, leaning even harder into the counter. "Because Danny-you remember Danny, your physical therapist-he let you see someone's file because you kept badgering him and berating him until he gave it to you. Remember?"
"How the hell did you even-"
"Because we had a whole big meeting about it, about how the hospital gave Danny a ten thousand dollar fine, we had to take another HIPAA compliance course, everything.* And Stephen," she added, pointing with one acrylic fingernail, smirking with sadistic glee, "if you had dared step back into this hospital again as a doctor, like that all never happened ..."
She shook her head and looked away, as if she was having trouble finishing her sentence. She wasn't though. Georgia was thoroughly enjoying this, he knew it.
"My God!" she exclaimed, still smiling. "You really just think you can do whatever the hell you want, don't you? You go through some personal bullshit, take a semester at Asian Hogwarts, and then you can just burst in where you're not supposed to be and demand whatever you like with no consequences?"
"Asian Hogwarts?" said Christine, smirking, then quickly covering her mouth when she caught a glimpse of the dark look on Stephen's face.
Stephen took a deep breath so he wouldn't explode.
"I am fully aware of the consequences of my actions," he said, "but two wrongs don't make a right. You're still not supposed to be in here."
She took her work tablet out of her huge scrubs pocket, swiped and clicked a few things, then showed him a small list of patients, all on that floor, one of them being 'John Doe-Room 214'.
"I'm on a double," she said. "Just finished my shift in the peds ward, now I'm down here. I'm the one who triaged him, why wouldn't they put me with him?"
Stephen groaned as she sat down at the tall chair near the computer, scrolling and clicking through every single one of his charts.
"What the hell are you trying to prove, Georgia?"
"Ooh, this is interesting," she ignored him, pointing at his heart measurements. "They're thinking atrioventricular nodal reentry tachycardia. Fascinating. I've read a few case studies on Asgardian physiology, and they all seem to have the same heart rhythm, because they actually have two hearts.** Did you know that, Dr. Strange?"
Sylvie swallowed hard, and Mobius put on his signature poker face.
"That doesn't explain anything. Lots of people have heart arrhythmias," said Stephen.
She swiveled around and put one arm casually on the back of the chair. "Your stories don't add up, either," she said, pointing between Stephen and Christine. She landed on Christine, like a game of 'Eeny Meeny Miney Mo'.
"You said you found him in the street … " her finger landed on Stephen, " … but you said 'he's been declining,' like you knew his history. So, which is it? Total stranger or not?"
Stephen threw his hands up in the air. "I meant he's been declining for the past few hours. We passed him once, then saw he was getting worse the next time, so we brought him in."
"And you knew it was a neurological condition, how?" She got up and walked over to Loki's bed, looking at his bearded face very closely.
"Just a suspicion," said Stephen, losing his edge on the conversation.
"Mmm," she said, not convinced. "Sure. I know you're God's gift to neurosurgery, but no one could know that just by looking. Not even Dr. House. This could be anything; OD, stroke-"
"Georgia, why do you think I would be stupid enough to bring Loki to New York?" he blurted, making everyone in the room give him a panicked stare. He didn't catch what he'd said until it was too late. Sylvie doubled over in her chair, like she was going to throw up.
A half smirk formed on Georgia's face. "Because Loki is dead, right?"
Stephen was caught like the rat he'd peeled from the sticky trap. He opened his mouth, closed it, racking his brain for any way to get out of this, besides throwing Georgia straight into another dimension. That option would be pretty damned satisfying, though, he had to admit.
Suddenly, Sylvie stood up and crossed to the radio, turning the volume up all the way up for the first staccato synth notes of "Baba O'Reily".
"Ma'am, could you please turn that down?" said Georgia, cringing.
"God, I'm sorry, I just freaking love this song!" she said, bobbing her head in time with the music. "Haven't heard it in years! This is my jam!"
"Who are you, anyway?" asked Georgia, shouting above the music.
"Sylvie," Mobius answered for her, "Christine's cousin." He gestured to Sylvie, who kept up her baffling charade. "She's my daughter. I'm Christine's uncle, Jeff."
"O-okay," replied Georgia.
"I'm sorry, I know you're trying to have a conversation, I've just gotta blast this song for a minute," she gave Stephen the slightest, pointed glance, and all of a sudden Stephen knew exactly what she was doing.
"Ma'am, it's really disrespectful to the other patients trying to sleep!"
Stephen gently put his hand on Georgia's shoulder and turned her around.
"Let's go out in the lobby and talk, then," he said, making sure to keep himself between her and everyone in the room. He shooed her out the door, but before he could shut it, Georgia grabbed the handle.
"Do not close that door, Strange," she snarled, trying to wrestle it from his grasp.
Loki's young doctor whipped around the corner.
"Nurse Jenkins, can you please tell them to turn the music down?"
"Oh, that's just crazy cousin Sylvie," Strange butted in, finally wrenching the handle away from Georgia and shutting the door, muffling the music quite a bit.
"Better?" he asked the doctor with a smile.
The doctor rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came.
Georgia scowled at him as Stephen leaned triumphantly on the door, making sure she wasn't going to barge back in. She crossed her arms in front of her and tapped a foot impatiently on the floor with such a comedically angry pout he couldn't help but chuckle.
"You better give me one good reason not to call the police in here right now," she said, her voice practically a growl.
He coughed uncomfortably, then straightened up, still keeping himself between her and the door.
"Georgia, there's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while."
"What?" Her laser glare could cut glass.
"Do you remember the Battle of New York?"
"Do I remember … " she stammered, open mouthed. "Oh, no," she continued sarcastically, "I just sat at home the whole time, didn't hear a thing. How are you going to ask me-"
"I'm serious, Georgia," he said. "I remember you. I know we've had our differences-"
She grunted, interrupting him, but he continued.
"-but I was amazed when I saw you at the hospital that day. Honestly. You didn't look scared at all. You commanded everyone where to go and they all just listened. You would have made a good general. I mean that."
Her stony expression softened the slightest bit, though she kept her eye on the door handle.
"Did you know they were giving you the hardest patients?" she asked him.
He widened his eyes in surprise. "No, I didn't," he said. "I was too busy sewing people's limbs back on."
She nodded. "You got all the people the other doctors knew they couldn't save. And you did save a lot of them. The father of those twins-" she paused for a moment, gathering herself, "-the father of the baby you saved, he wanted to thank you, and I kind of forgot. Or maybe I never wanted to talk to you again if I didn't have to. But it was wrong of me."
They both stared uncomfortably at their feet for a long moment, unsure how to go on. The music continued to blare on the other side of the door, building to the ridiculous, crashing crescendo of 'cousin Sylvie's' favorite song.
"And I'm sure a lot of people have let you know how they felt about the Blip," she continued.
"Oh," he muttered, dreading the conversation he knew he was about to have. "You lost people, I'm sure, everyone did. And I'm sorry."
"No, actually," she said. He looked up, stunned. "My whole family stayed here. My dad, my sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. All my close family stayed together."
"Wow," he whispered. "That's … kind of unheard of."
"I've got a big, big family, too. I don't know if God did it, but it was a miracle. And it brought us closer together. Everyone shows up to reunions now, every single person."
They shared a rare smile between them, Stephen almost forgetting about what was happening just behind him.
Suddenly, Christine cried out "Stephen!" and the short-lived spell was broken.
Georgia sized him up even though she was a full foot shorter than him, then bravely, stupidly lunged for the door handle. Stephen easily redirected her hand with a swift judo move, then pushed her gently backwards with a burst of magic and held her feet fast to the ground with another spell.
"One more thing I wanted to tell you," he said, opening the door a crack, with a wry grin on his face. "I'm sorry I used to call you 'Georgia Freakin' Jenkins' to the other doctors."
"Oh, yeah?" she shouted, trying hilariously to pry her Crocs from the floor by pulling on her legs, "All the nurses called you 'Dr. Weirdo' behind your back!"
"That's adorable!" he laughed, opening the door to reveal another of Mobius' portals, this time sunken halfway into the floor, and an empty hospital bed draped with dangling wires and tubes.
He waved goodbye to her, then ducked down into the toddler-sized portal and back into Loki's hot, humid, bedroom, where Sylvie, Mobius, and Christine impatiently waited for him.
"Stephen!" Georgia screamed helplessly from the other side. "God damn it!"
The portal sputtered, preparing to close, and Dr. Strange remembered to release Georgia from the spell at the last moment before it flickered shut again.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief in the dead silence, then Mobius piped up, "Georgia would have made a damned good detective, I'll give her that."
"Or we would have made some awful criminals," mumbled Stephen.
*This drove me crazy about the first Dr. Strange movie! I work in the medical field, and one of the first things they teach you before you step foot in a hospital is to never, ever look up patient's files for a reason not pertaining to their treatment. It's a huge deal.
**Absolutely not canon! Asgardians have only 1 heart, but I wanted there to be a 'tell' to tip off Georgia.