2
"Welcome to the Sanctum," Strange said, grandly gesturing around at the wood-paneled walls around them. Odin, a few steps in front of him, looked around curiously.
By all accounts, the Sanctum was a better location for Odin. It was closer, cleaner, and far more practical. If Loki was actually planning on coming back to Earth anytime soon, it would be a good idea to have Odin somewhere Strange could actually protect him.
Turning around, Strange closed the portal behind them. The fizzling circle swiveled smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether.
When he turned back around, he found Odin watching him with what seemed like amusement.
"Can all Midgardians do that?" Odin asked.
"Aaah. . . not exactly," Strange said, slipping off the sling ring and hooking it on his sash. "Only the special ones." He did a double-take. "You said Midgardian."
"What?" Odin seemed startled. "I –"
Strange smiled. "It's good news," he said. "Your mind is already working differently."
That put to rest one of his theories that had already begun to circulate; Loki had placed an additional spell over the care home, like an extra safeguard to ensure Odin's memories didn't return for a long time.
"Come on," Strange said. "I'll show you to your room."
The portal had opened up into a wide hallway. Strange went over to one of the doors and opened it, gesturing for Odin to follow.
The room was simple and square, with enough room to comfortably fit a bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a chair. One wall appeared to be made up entirely of built-in bookshelves, packed with neatly arranged, leather-bound volumes.
As Odin went inside, Strange took note of the Asgardian's appearance. Against the deep reds and carved wood tones of the Sanctum, the standard-issue sweat clothes from Shady Acres looked sharply out of place.
"All the clothes in the dresser should fit. Bathroom's the door to the right. Clean yourself up, settle in, relax." Strange nodded around, indicating the room. "You're welcome to stay until your memories return. The Sanctum exists to serve, so what's here is yours."
"Thank you," Odin murmured.
"Yep," Strange said, shortly and brightly. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "Dinner can be made whenever you're hungry. If you need anything else, just let me know."
Without another word, the sorcerer left the room, closing the door after him.
Left alone in silence, Odin found himself drawn to the bookshelf. He was going to change into different clothes, as Doctor Strange had suggested, but the books drew his attention like a moth to a flame. He looked over them, noticing that several words in the titles repeated themselves several times.
Gods. Planets. Norse. Mythology.
Odin took the first book off the shelf, and started reading.
Wong was waiting for him.
"Wong!" Strange said in surprise. He stopped at the doorway to his study, looking curiously at the bookkeeper inside. This was unusual; Wong almost never visited his study. "We're back."
Wong didn't move a muscle, both arms folded across his chest. "I know."
Strange eyed his bookkeeper as he strode into the room. "Odin's settled in the Eastern Wing. Room 16."
"I know." Wong's voice remained a monotone.
Without turning around, Strange shuffled some papers on the desk. "Mythology books were a good idea. They won't bring his memories back, but they'll at least start him thinking."
Wong didn't even blink. "I know."
Strange rolled his eyes, his shoulders sagging, and finally turned around. "Okay, okay, you saw me use the Eye. I get it."
"You are the keeper of that Infinity Stone, Stephen," Wong said, his voice coming close to admonishing. "It is your duty to take care of it."
"What were your duties, again? You're supposed to help me, right?"
"Stephen," Wong said, his voice lower. "I fear its power is. . . attractive. To many beings across the galaxies."
Strange sighed, finally resigning. "I know," he muttered quietly. He glanced away, at a circular window that allowed white light to pour into the room. "Believe me, I know."
Wong nodded once, as if that was all he came to hear. He went to leave the room, arms crossed behind his back, but he paused at the door.
"How is the Allfather?"
Absentmindedly, Strange traced the cracked face of his watch with one finger. "Lost," he said after a moment, his voice gravelly. "Loki did a hell of a job."
"And your prognosis?"
A hint of a cocky smile edged at Strange's lips. "I give it one month." One month for the memories to come back in full.
"Hm," Wong said. He didn't sound doubtful, but he didn't sound entirely convinced, either. "We will see."
Without another word, the bookkeeper left the room.
Stephen rubbed a finger over his lip, deep in thought. "Yes, we will," he muttered to himself.
Steam curled up from the clay teapot's nozzle. The little teacups and saucers rattled dully against each other as the tray quivered midair, suspended at Doctor Strange's side by magic.
Stephen knocked twice on the door. "Odin?"
Odin's voice came muffled through the door. "Yes, come in."
The Allfather was standing by the bookshelves when Strange entered. Since yesterday, he had changed into a dark golden tunic and swapped the medical eyepatch for a simple black one. Already, he looked much better than he had yesterday.
He closed the book he had open in his hands and gave a quizzical look to Strange's side.
Strange followed his gaze. The tray had followed him through the doorway, and he gestured to the tray's contents with a tilt of his head.
"Tea we grow in Kamar-Taj and a royal jelly honey." With a wave of his fingers, Strange sent the tray gliding gently to the floor before kneeling down himself. "Practically a brain booster. Nothing could help your memories more."
"Very thoughtful." Odin didn't move his eyes from the sorcerer. Strange could feel a question in his gaze.
"Every morning, eight o'clock, I'll be here." Strange began pouring tea into both cups, steam rising off the surface of both. "Just for an hour, just to talk. Possibly go over some memory techniques – anything that might jog your memory." He gestured for Odin to sit down as well. "Please, sit."
Odin didn't move. "Why not just tell me who I am?" He tilted his chin up. "It seems you know."
Without looking up, Strange shook his head patiently. "Can't tell you everything at once. Not only would it not work, if you remembered all at once, your brain would fry." He finished pouring the tea and set the teapot back down. "The mind is one muscle you can't strain. Push it and it will break."
After a moment, Odin relented. "Very well." He knelt to the floor and took one of the cups from the tray.
Picking up his own cup, Strange leaned back, as casual as if they were discussing the weather. "Let's start with the basics. Do you remember your full name?"
Over the next few weeks, Strange's mornings fell into a rhythm. The days varied, of course, but the mornings remained the same.
Always at eight o'clock, he stood at Odin's door, a tray of tea hovering beside him. For one hour, he and Odin would talk, slowly edging around a whole range of different subjects.
Today, Stephen had something a little different planned.
"Odin?" As usual, he knocked twice on the door before opening it.
"Doctor," Odin greeted him.
"Allfather," Strange said back. He stayed at the doorway, and gestured for Odin to follow him. "No tea today. I want to show you something."
It was a short walk from Odin's room to the artifacts – really, there were artifact-filled shelves everywhere in the Sanctum. Anywhere the glass shelves had fit, they had been placed. But there was one particular area Strange wanted to take his guest.
The relics were loosely grouped throughout the Sanctum according to several different factors. Some artifacts were displayed alongside others from the same time period, while others were grouped with others that had been created in the same geographical location.
Each master who had been in charge of the New York Sanctum had had a different preference, which resulted in a very scattered organization system.
Fortunately, Strange had memorized the placement very quickly, and he knew that the gathering of artifacts they walked up to now contained more Asgardian artifacts than most.
"We're just going to take a look around. Anything stirs your interest, let me know."
At a nod from Odin, they started their slow trek through the tall, gold-framed shelves.
After a minute or so, Strange realized he wasn't paying as much attention to Odin as he was the artifacts. He was frowning at a layer of dust that had settled over a golden flute when Odin's voice broke into his thoughts.
"What is that?" Odin was pointing to a white mask behind the glass.
"Battle armor," Strange replied, folding his hands behind his back. "From a species called the Dark Elves. They were here on Earth for about" – he paused to consider – "oh, half an hour. Let's say were very quickly escorted off-world."
Odin said nothing, but when Strange glanced over at him, his lips were moving, silently repeating the words. Dark Elves.
Pretending not to have seen, Strange moved on.
"Born of eternal night. . . ," Odin was murmuring to himself, so softly that Strange could only just hear him. ". . . Dark Elves come. . . steal away your light."
"What's that?" Strange asked.
Odin pulled his hand sharply away from the glass as if it had burned him. "Nothing," he said, sharper than usual.
For a moment, Strange could glimpse a light at the end of the tunnel. In Odin's eyes, he had seen it. The Allfather might not be willing to admit it yet, but something was stirring in his mind.
Strange gave a smile. The memories were coming back, slowly.
Piece by piece by piece.