A Fickle Thing
Chapter 3: Tears
Warning: The subject matter is more macabre in this one, kiddies. Take care of yourselves!
Darkness.
The flame from a torch flickers across the hall from their cell, casting elusive shadows upon a burgundy cloak, cinched and strung up against the wall. The dappled light also reflects off a man on the floor beside the cloak. He is shirtless, slumped over, and covered in chains.
Water drips from the stone ceiling above them like a leaky faucet, staccato droplets which juxtapose the heaving breaths of Stephen Strange.
Somewhere down the hallway, another cell slams shut, causing the doctor to jerk to his senses, eyes wide.
At least he's awake.
With Strange's sudden consciousness, the cloak senses its chosen's fear, as tangible as a desperate handshake, as strong as a heady perfume.
And there isn't a damn thing the cloak can do about it.
"I was dreaming… about a chard and spinach scramble…"
The cloak wonders if the doctor is delirious. Then Strange coughs, spits something onto the cold stone floor.
"Just my luck to go looking for the god of mischief," he says, "and find the king of hell instead." His voice is rough, gravelly. Is Strange is talking to himself?
The doctor's head lolls from side to side, stiff limbs stretching to find the limits of the chains they are attached to. He doesn't have to stretch very far. Protected with various dark spells, there is absolutely no way Strange can break them without outside help.
Viewing Strange's attempts to free himself inspire the Cloak of Levitation to try escaping too. Despite the hooks and tight straps pinning it to the wall, the cloak uses all of its strength, wriggling horizontally and vertically—
"Hey…" Stephen's soft interjection stops the fabric from struggling. "It's all right."
Dr. Strange looks directly at the cloak, glassy eyes scanning across its crimson surface, stained darker in patches with his own blood. The cloak quavers with fury to see the gash across Stephen's forehead when he turns towards the light.
"Blackheart can't keep me here forever," the doctor mutters, his head falling back with exhaustion. "Once he sees I'm awake, he'll try to get the whereabouts of the Orb from me. Again." The ghost of a smile across his face. "And I'll have to disappoint him. Again."
Minutes pass in silence until the cloak stirs from its reverie by a distinct noise. It is not an easily identifiable one even though it comes from Strange. The cloak realizes it is because he has never heard the doctor make these particular noises: a faint wheezing mixed with a soft moan and punctuated with sharp inhalations through his nose.
Stephen Strange is crying.
The cloak writhes against its restraints, craning its collar to go free.
Tears wind down the doctor's cheeks. His crying is soundless now but somehow even more heartbreaking because the cloak knows that his grief continues.
The Cloak of Levitation twists and contorts itself with purpose, forcefully fidgeting until one clasp breaks loose.
It is not enough to liberate it completely, but it's enough for one corner of the cloak to reach Strange. Tenderly, the cloak draws its velvety curve across the doctor's face, wiping away the tears that run in streaks.
Stephen sighs, head drooping and leaning into the softness of the material.
The Sorcerer Supreme says nothing, and he doesn't have to.
Moments pass—perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. Then, somewhere within the depths of Blackheart's prison, comes the unmistakable metallic clang of Thor's hammer.
Dr. Strange weakly lifts his head, and he smiles.
"Seems help is on the way, my friend."
The cloak shivers with anticipation and… something else. If it was a lamp, it would have felt a warm glow at Strange's comment. But because it is simply a garment, albeit magical, the cloak contents itself with fluttering against Stephen's neck, supporting him, prepared to aid the god of thunder in the rescue of a man it once took a wild chance on—the man who has become something much more…
Friend.
A/N: You all are being too good to me! And, heaven help me, I can't staaaaahp. Really. Truly. There are many more to come. Love and cupcakes and hugs to you all!