A/N

Same people as last time.

Let's safe Christine.

Watching, how Christine tumbled, something snapped in Stephen. For a mere moment, he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. All he could do was stare at his love. All that blood. For god's sake all

Then his doctor-side kicked in and took control. He couldn't succumb to panic. Panicking wouldn't save her. If he remained rooted to the spot, she would die. Right in front of his eyes. And he wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. He…

Teleporting himself beside her once again, he made her float, inches before she hit the concrete. He couldn't let her impact with the ground. Might open the wound further, take any chance he had at saving her. Placing her on the ground carefully, he looked at her. First, his hand found it's way to her nose. Could she breathe? Please, please, please, be able to breathe. If her windpipe was cut, she would drown in her own blood. He felt her warm breath hit his trembling fingers, felt how relief flooded him. She could breathe. God, she could breathe.

His eyes moved to her throat, saw, that her fingers had found their way there, frantically pressing onto the wound. Blood ran through her fingers, painting her throat and the concrete below red. It had been a spray of blood. Blood spraying from her cut was good. The only thing he could have hoped for. A spray of blood meant they had more time. Her artery had only been nicked. A surge of blood, no spray, would have meant the artery was cut, leading to immense blood loss within seconds. Upping the possibility of her windpipe being cut. Placing her survival-chances somewhere close to…

"I'll move your fingers away, okay? I have a spell, which places more pressure on the wound than you can with your hand."

Making his right hand glow, he carefully pulled her hand away with his left. Blood spraying from the cut instantly, hitting his face and clothes. He didn't even realize that. His right placed itself on the cut, pressing against it. The amount of blood escaping from the wound reduced. Yet, he could see a fresh amount with every beat of her heart. Her life running through his fingers, quite literally.

Finally, allowing himself to look into her eyes, his heart nearly broke again. There was so much panic in her gaze, so much… God, how much it had to hurt. How much… closing his eyes for a second, he realized, that he was crying. When had that happened? Catching himself, he hunched down, his free hand finding its way into her hair, his lips pressing against her forehead in an attempt to sooth her panic.

"I'm here. I have you. Don't worry." He was nearly tempted to believe himself. Sitting up again, he locked his eyes with hers, feeling her blood run through his fingers. Feeling her fleeing pulse. A fresh surge of warmth with every beat, despite his spell. It was far less than it would be under different circumstances, he knew that but… 40 percent. The human body could function until a blood loss of 40 percent. Roundabout. A little less for women. That was the breaking point. Below, she could survive. Above, she was as good as dead. How much blood had she lost already? Once again, he felt his doctor-side kick in, pushing the scared boyfriend away. Her pulse was fleeing. Her face pale. He guessed if he would touch her hand, it would feel cooler than normal. Placing her anywhere between 15 and 30 percent.

Peter watched the scene in front of his eyes in horror. The knife moving along her throat, blood spraying from the wound. If only he had dropped himself a bit closer to him. He could have been able to grab the hand of this maniac. Or try to grab the knife and pull it away. Or anything for that matter. Like this, though, he watched how the cloak finally ripped him away from her, flinging him to the side. Peter was on him seconds later, webbing his hands and feet to the ground. That guy wouldn't make them any troubles.

He turned his head, staring at the sorcerer, who had been standing by the side, watching the whole ordeal. He had taken a step in their general direction, Peter raising his hands, not knowing if he wanted to help his friend or… but the man raised his hands over his head, surrendering. Peter stared at him for a long second, then turned again, trusting him for the moment that he wouldn't interfere.

Stephen was kneeling beside Christine by now, his glowing hand on her throat. It was obvious that only she existed in his world right now. There was nothing more important than her.

The second, the cloak realized that blood was spraying from Christine's throat, it went into shock. For like a second. It had failed its master yet again. It was a really bad cloak. Not being able to protect his girl. And then there was nothing more than anger. Finally succeeding in ripping the sorcerer away from her, the cloak threw him to the side, not bothering if he broke some bones when he impacted with the ground. Would only seem fair. The cloak saw, how its master teleported himself beside her, catching her. It was obvious that he didn't bother for any of them. Still floating beside its master and Christine, the cloak saw how Mordo took a step towards them…

Hell no. That wouldn't happen. Mordo wouldn't interfere. Not if it had any say in that matter and it had. Swooshing past its master, the cloak coiled itself around Mordo's body, making sure he couldn't use his hands to cast magic, pulling him back until he hit the wall. The cloak kept tight, stopping any of his movements. If he had failed in protecting Christine from the get-go, it would damn certainly make sure that no one would interfere. For a second, there was the tempting thought of killing Mordo. Right here and now. The cloak remembered what terrible things this man had done. Yet, that choice wasn't its to make. Accordingly, it just remained coiled around him. Maybe pulling tight a bit more than necessary, exerting more pressure than needed, making it a bit hard to breathe.

Peter stared at the cloak, which had coiled itself around the boss-sorcerer of this group. The guy, who had beat up the doc that badly. Walking towards him, he raised his hands.

"Cloak? You can let go. I'll handle this." He stated, hoping that the sorcerer wouldn't fight back or try to escape within the second. The cloak seemed reluctant, not wanting to let go. This guy seemed to be its to keep down but then it did let go, hurrying to the side instantly for Peter to be able to web the man against the wall. He stared at him for some long seconds. Could that guy teleport around like the doc too? Would he simply escape?

"The… his sling ring!" the voice from behind his back startled him. Turning around, he saw the sorcerer he hadn't webbed. The man was kneeling beside his webbed partner. For a moment Peter thought he wanted to help him escape, but he only pulled something from his hand, got up and stared at the mess they had created. His eyes wide with horror. The… sling ring? Turning his head back to the boss-guy, he looked at his hands. There it was, a small two-finger ring. Pulling it from his hand, he turned around. The cloak floated beside him, not daring to move too close to the doc. With his adrenaline fading, Peter felt the throbbing pain in his chest again. His body would punish him later for moving that much. Yet, it didn't really matter. Not matter at all. What should they do now? Call the ambulance?

Christine was looking at Stephen. There was only his face. She only concentrated on his face. She had to hold onto something to not go mad. She could still feel his hand on her throat, pressing down, but… there wasn't much left besides. There had been an unbelievable pain the second that man had cut her throat. It was still there, she knew that. Pulsing in the back of her mind, ready to swallow her if she allowed that to happen. She felt how close to dying she was. She knew the stages of hypovolemic shock, after all. Her body had grown cold, her heart thrumming like crazy, she felt uneasy and restless. Stage 2 of 4, if she remembered right.

"Kiss me." She whispered. She had to feel his lips again. She still had time, after all. She wanted to remember…

He looked at her for some moments, before he complied. Bending down, she felt his lips on hers. A slow, gentle, careful kiss. He was scared to move her by accident, wasn't he? After he broke away, she tasted blood in her mouth and on her lips. That one wasn't hers for sure.

"You bleed." She stated dryly, feeling the need to annoy him. Maybe she would see him smile one last time. That would be great. Just one last, true smile. His face was ruled by fear and worry currently.

He frowned when he heard her words. Raising his left arm, that one whose fingers had been buried in her hair, he licked along his shirt, leaving a trail of blood behind. She could see how he frowned, spat out. That was damn sure blood in his mouth.

"Not that bad." He stated. She couldn't stop herself from chuckling, even though a fresh bolt of pain rushed through her very being, undoing the world around her for a second. Not that bad.

"You look like shit." She retorted. Mordo had beat him up quite badly. If he hadn't fought against that damn alien earlier this morning, Stephen would surely have kicked that guys ass.

He managed a weak smile. Oh god, even a weak smile of his was better than his expression before that.

"I love you." She whispered. It escaped her lips before she could manage to stop herself. Even knew that she wanted to say that. It had just been there. He was here, trying to stop her from dying, even though he looked like somewhere close to fainting too. She guessed he wasn't aware of that. In his world, there was only her. And for that…

His timid smile was exchanged by pure horror instantly. "Don't say that." He stated firmly, obviously fearing she only said it because she was close to dying. Like, the list of words she would regret never having said.

While Peter stared helplessly at the scene in front of his eyes, feeling sick and terrified when Christine told Stephen she loved him, Karen patched a live stream to Friday.

Friday analyzed the data she had received and in turn, informed her boss.

Tony Stark was looking at the Sorcerer Supreme for a few long seconds. Good, that they would fight to their deaths to protect the stone? Was that a threat? He didn't know how much he could do against her without his suit, but he surely would try if need be.

Friday's voice suddenly filling his ear made him flinch. He had completely forgotten his earpiece. Meanwhile, the bald woman in her white robes eyed him curiously.

"Boss? Christine Palmer is dying."

Five words. Just five simple fucking words, which made him...

"What?!" his voice was unusually high, worried.

They couldn't lose Christine. He knew what she meant to Strange. If he watched her die he would defiantly snap. He needed that man sane, however much he disliked admitting it.

"Apparently, someone sliced her throat." Friday's voice informed him.

Someone… someone sliced her... the chance of surviving something like that was largely based on how deep the cut was. If the artery had been cut…

"You know any good healing spells by chance?" he heard himself ask, the woman frowning at him.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes watchful.

"Someone who can't die is currently dying." He stated dryly. "You can make portals, right? We need to go to…" telling her the address, he waited, preparing mentally for, well, anything.

She looked at him for some long moments, waging his words. Then she sighed softly, raised her hand and drew a circle into the air, a golden glowing circle appearing as her hand moved.

Stepping through her portal, the ancient one frowned at the scene in front of her eyes. Mordo webbed against a wall, Spider-Man and the cloak of levitation ready to attack anyone who got through the portal. And… Stephen Strange. Stephen Strange of all people. He was kneeling beside a woman, who was obviously badly hurt. She was the person who shouldn't die? Stark getting through the portal after her, made Spider-Man relax. The cloak hadn't bothered to attack her the moment it saw her. She heard Stark talk, but she didn't bother listening. Walking up to Strange, she touched his shoulder. If he was this sorcerer friend of Stark… if he came back from the future if he remembered… She felt how he flinched, raised his gaze. It was there. All her questions answered with one short gaze alone. He had been with her when she died. Seeing him use magic meant that he wouldn't heal his hands. That he embraced the way of a sorcerer. That he would help protect this world. She had always been curious who he would become. She had seen so much potential in him, but never more. The future with him in it hidden through her own death.

If the woman who was dying meant something to him, which she guessed based on his terrified expression… Stark was right. She couldn't die. A human mind could only take a certain number of losses before breaking.

She stepped away for a moment, drawing a complex rune with both her hands. The rune remained in the air for a moment, glowing golden like all spells. Touching it with her right, the light jumped onto her hand, the golden lines dissolving into dust. She knelt down beside Strange and that woman she didn't know, carefully nudging his hand. He moved one finger after a moment, blood spraying at them instantly. Placing her fingertips on the unprotected part of the wound, she felt her magic run into it.

First and foremost, she forced the energy into her body, searching for the damaged artery. That was the really important part. Then, she watched the edges of the wound move, closing itself. Slowly and methodically, she worked her way along the throat of that unknown woman, her fingers moving in sync with Strange's. He always raising a finger, making space for her to imbue the next part of damaged tissue with energy.

The second the cut was closed, the fingers of the woman were there, touching her throat, not yet believing that it was gone. She lay there for some long seconds, panic and disbelieve in her eyes. Her gaze rested on her for a mere moment, before she moved. She sat up and buried her face against Strange's neck, he closing her into a strong embrace instantly. Watching, how he closed his eyes, how a weight greater than the world slipped from him, a feeling of dread filled her heart. If she had died… she didn't need to see the future, to guess that he wouldn't have made it. Not as the person he was meant to be. Probably freaked out completely, killing everyone close to him. She had seen that. Strong, emotional-unstable sorcerers. They could wreak so much havoc on their surroundings.

The moment Christine was securely wrapped in his arms, the world around him faded away once more. There was only her. Her face pressed against his neck. Her trembling body. Her fleeing pulse. Her cold hands clinging to his shirt. She wasn't bleeding to death anymore, but she wasn't anywhere near safe either. She needed a transfusion. She had lost too much blood to go without. Pulling her away carefully, he wanted to…

But his thoughts came to a stop when he saw her gaze. It was still terrified, yes, but timid hope filled her eyes. He hadn't seen something more beautiful in a long while. Maybe in his entire lifetime. Gifting her something like a mad smile, he pressed his lips against hers. It wasn't how they usually kissed. It wasn't like the careful kiss earlier either. It was a mad dance of tongues and lips, sloppy and aggressive and loving at the same time. A reaffirmation, that they hadn't lost each other. That she was alive, that she would be okay.

Breaking away, he gently stroked along her cold cheek. Her lips were blue, with a hint of red. The remnants of their earlier kiss, his blood on her. After a few last long moments of looking at each other, he pecked her nose and carefully got up, pulling her along. Finally turning, he saw, that only cloak was left. The others had apparently disappeared through the still open, golden portal. Cloak gestured towards the portal before floating through it. Stephen blinked. The cloak really remembered? Who would have guessed it had memories in the traditional way. Slinging an arm around Christine's waist, he pulled her towards the portal. Nearly instantly, she tensed against him, not willing to move. He stopped, looking from her terrified face to the portal and back again.

"He kidnapped you through one of those?" he asked gently, putting the pieces together. All she did was nod, stare at the glowing ring in utter fear.

"How do you know where it leads? That we aren't going to be attacked again?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Looking at her for a long moment, he turned, embracing her again. For a few moments, he only held her, made sure that he felt how she relaxed against him. As soon as she did that, he brought a bit of space between them.

"The woman who saved you came through this one, I'd guess. The others most likely disappeared through it. I think we have to explain ourselves to her."

Seeing, how she frowned, he smiled timidly. He could guess her question before she asked. Why?

"She is, like, the boss-sorcerer. The stone I have should belong to her." He hesitated for a moment, then added "I actually have questions, which I hope she can answer." with a quiet voice.

Christine looked at him, obviously not convinced to walk through that portal.

"The cloak would never tell me to walk through it if it wasn't safe." He finally stated, knowing that that was true for sure.

"It floated." Was Christine's first reaction to the cloak. Then a frown appeared on her face. "What makes you so sure it wouldn't trick you? You know it?"

"Yeah, it floats. And yeah, I know it. It's kind of…" how should he phrase that? "…my magical companion in the future. It seems to remember what happened too, which makes it probably the cloth most interested in my survival." He added dryly for good measure, seeing her frown. Yet, there was an amused glimmer in her eyes. Mission lifting Christine's mood in progress.

"You trust the cloak?" she asked slowly, watching his face.

"Always." He answered without hesitation.

For a long moment, he watched her face. She seemed more relaxed, but yet not willing to step through the portal. How should he…

"Okay. How about this? I hug you, you close your eyes and I slowly walk us through the portal. When you open your eyes again, everything is still okay, okay?"

For a long moment, she didn't answer, still indecisive if she wanted to go through this sparkling golden ring into an unknown place. Where they may or may not get attacked again. Closing her eyes, she leaned against him, nodding against his chest without a word. Hugging her, he did as he had said. He slowly stepped back towards the portal, making sure to keep Christine close to his chest.

As soon as he was through the portal, he felt the shift in atmosphere. The sudden change between standing on a street and in the library of Kamar-Taj. It felt strangely familiar. For a brief second, he wondered how entering the sanctum would feel. If it would feel like coming home. Then he pulled Christine through, intensifying his embrace when he felt how she flinched.

"I'm still here. Don't worry." He whispered into her ear, feeling how she relaxed slowly. "You can open your eyes, by the way." He added after a moment, trying to let his voice sound light, but failed miserably. She did what he had said, looking around. First fearful, then disbelieving. He only smiled weakly, loosening his embrace to be able to look around himself. The library looked like he remembered it to be. He could even see Wong in the distance, sitting at his reception and throwing curious gazes into their direction while trying to seem disinterested. Kamar-Taj attracted a weird assembly of guests, after all. Always had. Spider-Man and Iron-Man in here wouldn't seem all that odd by comparison.

Finally facing the others, his eyes passed over all of them. Cloak, Peter, Stark. The Ancient One. The sorcerer, who had stopped attacking them. Mordo and the guy who had sliced Christine's throat were nowhere to be seen. Which was probably for the best. He wasn't sure if he could keep himself from trying to kill harm them in a sudden rush of hate.

The soft voice of the Ancient One pulled him out of revenge related anger management issues.

"Chambers? Can you get them to the infirmary? I think she'll need a transfusion."

The sorcerer, who hadn't attacked them, nodded and was going to turn when the Ancient One stopped him mid-movement by touching his shoulder.

Then her gaze went to Christine. "Can you go through another portal?" her voice was soft and gentle. She hadn't missed, that Christine had been terrified by her portal to Kamar-Taj.

"Please, no more portals." The fear in her voice made Stephen embrace his love stronger again, holding her close for a moment.

"Then, let's go." He said softly, looking at the guy who was obviously called Chambers. Stephen looked at Christine for a moment before he let go of her, his arm securely wrapped around her waist to stabilize her a little.

While they left the library, he felt Wong's gaze on him. Following their guide, he felt more eyes on him. It didn't bother him very much initially until he realized that basically everyone who they passed raised their head and shot them a gaze. When he had come here as a student, he had been largely ignored by everyone. Yet, he hadn't come here as a student. For them, he was an unknown sorcerer. An outsider. Most sorcerers had either been trained in Kamar-Taj or at one of the sanctums, raising the question where he had learned magic. Only left outcasts as a teacher, right? Maybe even Kaecilius. The thought alone made him shiver. Good, that he wasn't that keen on human interaction anyway.

"What's wrong?" he heard Christine's calm voice. She had to have felt his shivering.

"Nothing." He only answered and tried it with a small smile. Meanwhile, he realized that him being seen as an outsider was the reason the Ancient One wanted them to use a portal initially. She knew what her fellow sorcerer would think when seeing him. If they had used a portal… Christine only frowned in response but didn't say anything to that. Instead, her gaze went behind him.

"Is it normal, that we are followed by a cloak?"

Stopping, he turned around. Cloak was there, in a respectable distance but it was there. Would explain those gazes. And make the rumors about him even worse. An outsider with a relic. How had he gotten that one? Had he broken into the Sanctum Sanctorum?

"Oh, come." He said in the general direction of the cloak, which seemed to bounce up and down in joy. A moment later, its clasps rested securely on his shoulders. He felt, how the cloak nestled against him. Even that seemed to be normal. He couldn't even begin to explain how much the feeling of cloak resting on his shoulders calmed him down.

"Ehm, is that normal?" Christine's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. Turning his head towards her, he chuckled. Cloak had coiled one side of it around her waist in an effort to stabilize her further.

"I would guess." He answered dryly. The cloak remembered. While his head wanted to tackle the important questions of the possible implications of cloak remembering, a very different thought pushed itself into the forefront of his mind. That piece of cloth had actual memories. God. He should be grateful that Christine had always insisted on cloak leaving the room when they had sex. Thinking about it, cloak had always seemed sad to be sent away. Was he hanging around with a perverted piece of magical garment?

Finally entering the infirmary, Stephen even felt the eyes of the nurse on him, eyeing him suspiciously. Then her gaze found Christine. It was nearly funny, to watch her jump into action, switch between bored woman to actual medical staff. Instantly, she was beside Christine, helping her to one of three beds in the room.

"What happened?"

"Hypervolemic shock stage 2. Hopefully." Stephen replied calmly, letting go of his love.

The nurse looked at him for a long moment, before her eyes went back to Christine, focusing on her throat.

"Where's the wound?"

"No wound there anymore." Chambers stated, sounding both exhausted and tired.

Stephen saw how the nurse hesitated, staring at the sorcerer. No wound there anymore. She knew, just like them, that healing wounds shouldn't be possible.

Catching herself, she helped Christine to the bed, asking for her blood type and disappeared to get some blood preserves. Meanwhile, Stephen dragged a chair to Christine's bedside, entwining their fingers as soon as he sat. For a moment he only looked at Christine. She looked terribly pale. Then his attention went to Chambers, who still stood in the room.

"Thank you for bringing us here." He stated softly, looking at the young sorcerer. He couldn't remember having seen him in Kamar-Taj, yet alone having interacted with him later on. Which implied he would have been at one of the sanctums when he got here in his original timeline. And he would die trying to defend it from Kaecilius, after all, he hadn't seen him after the battle of Hong Kong. For a moment he felt irritated and something like sad. That guy seemed to have morals, he surely didn't deserve to die. Yet, no one ever deserved to die.

Chambers, unbeknownst to his thoughts, nodded and smiled timidly.

"I... I'm sorry for everything. I really am."

Stephen could only smile sadly and acknowledge his words with a nod. Chambers seemed to get that he didn't want to talk about any of it right now.

"I'll... ah... get to go. See ya, I guess. Good luck, Miss Palmer." And gone he was before any of them could say a word.

Stephen blinked when he realized that that fellow had even remembered her name. Looking at Christine, he smiled timid, raising their entwined hands to his lips and kissing hers softly.

"Respectively, he doesn't seem all that bad." Christine commented thoughtfully before turning her head to look at him. He only hummed a response, gently caressing her cold hand with his thumb, and closed his eyes for a moment.

The moment was longer than he indented it to be. When he opened his eyes, the nurse was returning with several blood preserves in hand. He hoped they were blood products. Giving her whole blood would be stupid.

"What do you want to give her?" he asked softly, watching the woman with hawk eyes. She looked at him irritated, obviously not used to being asked questions.

"Resuscitation fluids, red blood cells and fresh frozen plasma."

"Is the blood type compatible?" he asked suspiciously.

He could see how she narrowed her eyes. "I grabbed zero negative, that stuff is compatible with everything. That way I don't have to care for her blood type. I'll check that the preserves are correctly labeled. Anything to add?" she asked pointedly, obviously annoyed by him.

"Nope." He stated calmly.

"That moron was a doctor, wasn't he?" she asked Christine in a low voice, while she dripped a bit of the preserves blood on test sheets to confirm the blood type. It was indeed 0- as expected. Christine only giggled in response, leading to him huffing annoyed.

"She's a doctor too." He pointed out annoyed, earning gazes from both women.

"Yeah, but she ain't question my medical knowledge, mister." The nurse stated annoyed.

Stephen narrowed his eyes at the open insult but kept silent this time.

"Obviously, I did grab something compatible. We'll start with the fluids." The nurse told Christine, obviously ignoring him.

Stephen knew, that cross-matching would be necessary normally. Mix some of Christine's blood with the blood in the preserves. Make sure it didn't clump. Make sure they were compatible. Yet, that test needed ages, more or less. If the preserve was zero negative…

Once again, Stephen watched with hawk eyes, how the nurse asked Christine to pump her hand a few times, disinfected her skin where she wanted to insert the needle and did just that on her first try. Soon after, the bag with fluids was connected to Christine's bloodstream.

Stephen watched with a silent sigh of relief, how the fluid entered Christine's arm and disappeared into her system. Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss against the hand he was still holding. That damn nurse had broken quite a bunch of hospital rules, yet… if the blood type was zero negative… his thoughts started to scatter after a moment, instead, he focused on the hope that Christine would be okay. The huge feeling of relief. She would be fine in due time.

"Ellen? Can you give us a moment?" the gentle voice of the Ancient One ripped him out of his empty state of mind. Opening his eyes, he looked around. The nurse stood by Christine's bed, watching her. Searching for any symptoms that her body might not accept the transfusion. The Ancient One stood by the open door, her eyes on them. The nurse, (Ellen?), turned her head, wanting to say something.

"Don't worry. I guess Doctor Strange will notify you if she shows any symptoms."

The woman was silent for a few moments before she huffed and left the room, closing the door while doing so.

Slowly, the Ancient One walked towards them, stopping by Christine's side, opposite Stephen and looked at her.

"How are you coping?" she asked softly.

Something like a smile passed over Christine's face. "Not dying anymore?"

While Stephen smiled a tiny bit, the Ancient One remained calm, like always.

"Thanks for healing me." Christine stated after a few moments, looking at the bald woman in her white ropes.

"Oh…" she grabbed a chair, sitting down beside her. "I didn't heal you. I gave your cells enough energy to heal themselves. The spell I used merely inspired them to jump into action."

"Meaning you could have healed my hands?" Stephen's voice sounded exhausted, yet curious. Christine moved her head to look at him. She could have healed his hands?

"I could've. Yet, you have to admit it would have been counterintuitive. You wouldn't have become a sorcerer if I healed your hands. Besides, it would have raised questions. Normally, no sorcerer should have enough power to be able to do such a thing."

"You used his energy to heal her? Traded in some of your lifetime for her?" this time, Stephen's voice was curious and something like…

The bald woman only tilted her head in what seemed to be a yes.

… worried?

"What will you do about the others? They will know that whatever you did shouldn't be possible."

"I think I'll alter their memories. Whatever happened shouldn't have happened anyway. I'll make them believe I jumped in before she was hurt. Makes enough sense and doesn't raise questions."

Christine watched confused, how the two talked with one another as if they knew each other. Yet, that shouldn't be possible. Even if Stephen knew her…

"How do you know each other?" she asked, obviously confused.

"I know her through my past, she knows me through her future." Stephen stated, gently stroking her hand.

She… what?

"You know the future too?" she asked, feeling how her head started to pound. Why did everyone know the future?

The bald woman simply nodded.

That meant… that they somehow met in the middle? Stephen coming from a future which never happened and she knowing of a future, which didn't exist anymore? Was that in any way even possible? Well, she saw both of them right in front of her eyes, implying an impossible yes.

"You have the time stone?" the woman asked softly, looking at Stephen, who only nodded.

"I have to talk with you." She stated while getting up, leaving the room to give them a little privacy.

Christine watched how the woman left them, then turned her head and looked at Stephen. She didn't want him to leave. Not anytime soon. Not ever. From one moment to the other, being faced by Stephen not being here and her being alone in an infirmary in a fucking magical someplace, she was terrified to death. She… she couldn't… being here alone… what if… Her heart rate still increased, increased even more. The dizziness she had become used to was getting even worse.

"I…" she tried to start, not knowing what exactly she wanted to ask of him. Please, stay here, for sure.

"I have to." He looked as heartbroken as she felt terrified.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he stated softly, pressing his lips against her hand once again and claimed her lips shortly afterward. That short kiss really didn't calm her down. He shouldn't leave! He… In horror, she watched how he got up, walked a few steps and then stopped, looking at her.

He didn't want to leave her either. Why did he do it then?

"Stay with her." he stated. A moment later his cloak left his shoulders and floated beside her. How should that damn cloak calm her down? She had seen how it had jumped the guy behind her, the guy who had sliced her throat. It hadn't saved her back then and it would most likely not now either. She didn't know why Stephen trusted that thing, but she would surely not do that!

Watching the cloak, her eyes flipped back to him. She felt, how she danced around the edge of freaking out completely. He couldn't… he… "Please." Her voice broke in the middle of the word, making him stop and look at her. Sighing softly, he raised his fingers. Astonished, she watched him move his arms, creating a copy of himself, which stood beside him. The second Stephen looked at her, tilting his head softly, while the first one left the room.