Chapter Text
Unfortunately, the museum director let me finish my shift early.
Normally, the walk back to the Sanctum was relaxing, but I only made it one block in the direction of home when the weather exploded into a rainstorm. It is the middle of summer and the forecast had predicted the temperatures to stay consistently hellish for at least two weeks, but you would have never guessed from the lightning skittering across the dull sky.
The people around me rushed to get out of the downpour, not a single umbrella amongst them, and traffic was in a deadlock from heavy taxi usage. I keep my gate brisk, passing by a group of unsupervised teenagers kicking water at each other and cackling.
At least they’re having fun, I thought morosely. That is more than I can say for the rest of New York. The thin clothes I had on had been chosen with the intention of keeping me cool in the heat, but the onslaught had fashioned a double-edged sword as a weapon against my outfit.
Thunder crackled, the sound echoing off heavy grey clouds which had dropped particularly low, pressing down on the city claustrophobically, the rain hard and painful on my skin. Rounding the last corner, I burst out into a brisk jog, being careful not to slip as I make my way up the stone steps, the considerable wooden door of the Sanctum opening by itself as though it recognized me.
It does recognize me, I remind myself, before Stephen’s words echoed in my mind: ‘centuries of having to contain magic has given it some kind of ungodly sentience. This house is alive.’
‘Ungodly’. Sure, there were rooms I couldn’t enter without fear of the house itself trying to consume me or my soul (or just my teeth - that had been an unusual New Year's Eve), but the wall of magically-warmed air that encompassed me as I stepped into the foyer was a nice reminder of the benefits of living at the Sanctum Sanctorum.
I sink to the floor, so preoccupied with coordinating my frozen fingers enough to untie my laces, that I didn’t notice Stephen’s presence until a wave of his magic caused all of the water to vanish. My clothes were instantly bone-dry and the edge of the cold evaporated with the water, but I couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of it.
“I thought you didn't get off work for another hour,” Stephen chuckled. “I would have picked you up if I had known you’d be walking in the rain.” He spoke with the ease of someone talking about driving a car, not creating a portal that connected the museum janitor’s closet to our living room.
“Phone dead.” At least my teeth were no longer chattering.
I manage to slip off my shoes, but it wasn't until after I rose to my feet and shrugged off my satchel that I noticed the tall stranger leaning against the foyer door frame. “I didn’t realise we had guests."
At my words, green eyes snap to mine.
Despite the lack of introduction, I know who he is; all of New York knows who he is. For a brief moment, I am scared, but from where he observes us he appears pointedly bored.
“Oh, I doubt Strange would refer to me as a ‘guest’,” Loki pulls his weight off of the doorframe, stretching slightly in the process, like a cat freshly awoken. “A ‘nuisance’ is more like it.” Feline, that’s how it could be described, the energy he radiated; feline in both menace and allure, a soft shiny coat and sharp claws.
“There are stronger words I would use before that,” Stephen said, stiff-lipped. The sorcerer stands still at my side.
“As for the rain,” Loki ignores Stephen, stepping just close enough to cut my friend completely out of the conversation, emerald eyes sliding down my form as if trying to remember where the weight of the water had caused my clothes to cling to my body, “I think that may have been my brother’s fault, and I apologise."
I do not reply, I'm not sure what to say.
Loki fills the silence expertly, "I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance; I am Loki of Asgard.” A slender hand extends towards me.
Behind Loki, Stephen’s jaw is clenched hard enough to bite through steel.
My eyes flickered down to where his hand waited to be grasped and back up to his face, disapprovingly. “Once, Stephen briefly mentioned that there are an infinite number of timelines. Just dropped it right into conversation over breakfast, and these other universes house other versions of ourselves, and the differences between those versions of us and us ,” I gestured to the two men, “might be the tiniest, most unimportant details or the very fundamentals of our beings.”
Loki’s eyebrows raised, but he did not interrupt.
“As you can imagine, this concept had been difficult to distract myself from,” I did not move, didn’t step away from Loki. “Incalculable quantities of universes just exist passively inside the multiverse, and within those you can be certain that any and every difference has been explored. And yet… I cannot imagine a single universe in which I tell you my name or share platitudes with you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Stephen is trying not to laugh.
Loki’s hand dropped from the air, sliding into a silver-threaded pocket nonchalantly. He throws a barb over his shoulder, “I can see why you like her, Strange. Did you make her audition for the role of magician’s apprentice, or was it a happy coincidence that you found such a plain and untalented human to control?”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I used all of my energy to remain composed. How long has Loki been here? Stephen looks like he’s about to lock Loki in astral form and shut his body inside the mirror dimension.
“With the title of ‘Silvertongue’ I assumed you would be better equipped with witty gibes. Seems such low hanging fruit to resort to insulting my appearance. I’m quite disappointed.”
Loki only raised an eyebrow. “Trust me,” he purred, “I have no complaints about your appearance. I simply cannot wait to see what kind of pedestal Strange sits you on.”
Purple energy flickers at my fingertips, and I watch Stephen’s expression harden, but Loki seemed only bemused.
“It’s time for you to leave,” Stephen’s tone was icy and cutting as he steps closer to the god.
The magic in the room went quiet, as if the house itself was waiting to see if this was going to get ugly.
Loki didn’t even deign to look at Stephen, his studying gaze fixed upon me as he ignored the Sorcerer Supreme.
I refuse to look away.
“Loki. Get out ,” Stephen’s voice no more than a growl.
Finally, Loki broke, a wild grin spreading across his features. “Very well. If you hear anything about my wanted man, let me know. I’m not sure you’re capable of taking him in on your own. I’d hate for you to get hurt.” He swept a hand through his hair dramatically. “Strange it was amusing, as always, and as for you,” Loki’s eyes roamed down my form hungrily, “I’m sure I will be seeing you again soon.”
My sense of self-preservation must not function correctly, because I made sure Loki saw me flip him off as he vanished into thin air with a crack that seemed to echo in the thunderstorm outside.
Beside me, I could feel Stephen seething, but when I turn to face him he has hidden it under a layer of humor. “Sorry for the interruption folks, we will resume our regularly scheduled programming shortly. You wanna go straight into cataloging? Or do you wanna spar first?”
It wasn’t hard to beat Stephen today.
Usually he's much better at getting under my skin, trash talking and looking for weak points in my stance, but the encounter with Loki seemed to disturb him, and after my third time pinning him to the mat, I finally asked about it.
“So, Loki needs help tracking someone down, huh?” I rolled off Stephen, holding out a hand to help him to his feet, which he takes with a grumble.
“Escaped Asgardian prisoner. The leader of some political terrorist sect. Thor, in his bottomless intellect, has decided that his brother was the best person to track this guy down, and Loki has followed him to the city,” Stephen swung at me, but I manage to sidestep the arcing punch.
No part of me wants to address the pedestal comments from Loki, and Stephen seemed just as happy to ignore it. Stephen sees more in me and my limited magical abilities than Loki knows. Stephen sought me out, he wants to help me learn, help me be better; so I why do I always feel so insecure about my powers.
“Must be good at hiding if they can’t find him,” I reply. I think of the storm. “Asgardians seem to like making dramatic entrances.”
Another fist flies towards me, and then another. I duck low to avoid them, but as soon as I find my footing there were two jabs, a cross, and a left hook to contend with.
“Very astute observation.”
The narrowly-escaped hook had left Stephen’s right side undefended, and I take the opportunity to land a kick, drawing my foot up close to my torso and then sending it towards his hip with all my might, but he vanishes without a trace. Stephen ends up saving me from lurching forward when he reappears behind me, arms wrapping around my shoulders, restraining me, one hand finding my throat, fingers pressing into the skin there.
When I struggle, the grip on my neck tightens slightly. “Is that why you’re so distracted?” I manage to choke out through heaving breaths. “Thinking about the escaped prisoner?”
“What else would I be thinking about?”
My stomach knots. I can hear his controlled breathing in my ear, my body was pressed flush against Stephen, the heat between us in stark contrast with the chill of the storm, still raging outdoors. I try to twist my way out of his grip.
"Come on," he chuckles, "you'll never learn to fight properly if you can't shake the monkey off your back."
All I can think to do is to drop to my knees.
The hand at my neck releases immediately, before pairing with the other to stop my descent onto the floor, but the movement from Stephen was all I needed. He hisses when my elbow made contact with his ribs, recoiling at the pain and giving me the opportunity to break away from him.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me choke to death,” I'm smug, I'll admit it. “You are always exercising such caution around me.”
Stephen’s eyes widened a fraction before narrowing. “Don't want to explain to the police why I'm burying your body in the park. Besides, I could say the same about you.”
I hadn't realised he’d noticed. No matter how hard I concentrated, it was like I couldn’t push my body further, like there was some block on my ability to fight. Like something holds me back when I fight him. I didn't have the same problem with Wong, but neither did Wong, I had never won against that sorcerer.
“Yeah well, it’s hard learning to fight," I pout.
"You’re lucky to have a wonderful teacher.” Laughter dances in his eye, grey, so like the clouds.
If I wasn’t so stubborn and filled with adrenaline, I might have enjoyed the playful banter. “It’s not like any other new skill I’ve ever taken on,” I sigh, but bring my fists up to protect my face. “I know what I want to do, but my body won’t let me.” I swing, he ducks. "I'm not used to struggling so much."
“I think you’re just dazzled by me." He punches, I dodge.
“That’s your working theory? I thought you were supposed to be a genius! Color me surprised.”
Stephen spits a fake laugh at me.
Once again I feel a presence behind me. Turning swiftly, I see Stephen approaching, but before I can even register, two Stephen Stranges are coming at me from opposite directions.
God, one of them is too much for me.
I lunge for the closest Strange. He manages to avoid the arms reaching for him, dropping into a crouch and leaping left, and sending a small burst of orange at my open side, winding me. I twisted hastily, trying to keep him in my line of vision, when-
Stephen, the one that was behind me at least, burst into a run, throwing himself at my feet and I realise too late what is happened and in turn jump too early, and Stephen, like a glorified bowling ball, clips my feet and I stumble sharply. Rotating my hips and shoulders, I tuck my body in and use the momentum to force me onto wobbly feet. Both Stephens vanish from their positions, and after a beat, mercifully only one reappears in front of me, materializing, fist already flying towards my face. My reflexes aren't fast enough and Stephen's fist catches my ear. I reared backwards, loose my footing and it was a simple push from him to take me down. For the first time that day I found my back on the mat.
“I’d rather face Loki, than two of you,” I muttered bitterly.
How does Stephen even know Loki. He had never mentioned the god before, but then again it seemed like every few hours he was dumping some other bucket of knowledge onto me about magic and demons and centering your chakras to avoid soul worms. It easily had never come up. When would Stephen even have the time to even mention that he was acquainted with a terrorist?
“I’ll try not to be insulted.” God, he is pompous when he wins, gloating bastard. “He’ll find his prisoner and then he can wander off back to Asgard or Muspelheim or Florida or wherever he plans to terrorize next.”
I chose to gripe.
Standing above me, Stephen stretches out his muscles before helping me up. “Right, time for some magic practice. How’s that invisibility working?”
I groan, “it’s not.”
My powers had shown themselves on a fateful day at fifteen when I had been confronted by the school bully. The memory was foggy, but if I concentrated hard enough, I could almost remember the look on her face as she was thrown backwards by a wave of purple energy. That was the full extent of my limited power and it had exhausted me. Stephen had explained that some people have a lot of magic at their disposal, and others had just enough to make life fun. It was very evident that I was not destined for greatness, and yet Stephen, the Sorcerer Supreme, for reasons I had never quite grasped, wanted to work with me.
“Tell me how you thought this spell up?” Stephen raised an eyebrow at me. “‘Came to you in a dream’, I believe you said.”
“Laugh all you want, asshole, but it’s true.”
I make a point of ignoring the smirk on Stephen’s face, and try to rally my senses about me. Shutting my eyes, I focused just as I’d been shown in my dream, visualising my physical body retreating into a pocket at my center, like it was being sucked into a black hole.
One deep breath.
And another and another and then-
A soft sound of appreciation from Stephen. My eyes open and I find my body gone. My own physical form had disappeared from sight, but reaching forward I noted that I could still feel my body; feel where it ended and the air around me began (the air itself oddly cool), feel my limited power bubbling under my skin, wherever that was.
Relishing the look of surprise on Stephen’s face, I push him hard, but instead of surprise or shock he whoops with an aggravating glee, like he's proud of me, or something.
“Try fighting me now,” my voice sounded far away and muted like I was trying to yell underwater. “This is weird.”
Stephen gives no indication that he can hear me. I feel my own heartbeat as my chest pounds with excitement and exertion; the spell had never lasted more than a few seconds before but it had been about half a minute now-
Before I could celebrate my form flickers, the spell shattering and suddenly I am visible again, pulled forcefully from the black hole I had been sucked into.
A wave of dizziness overtook me, and I jolted, swaying dramatically.
Stephen’s shaking hands were on my shoulders in a second, wrapping under my arms and supporting my body until his uneasy face wasn’t swimming in front of me.
“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice sounded tinny, almost like mine had sounded during the spell. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
I mutter my thanks, concentrating on keeping my breathing even. As soon as he was content I wouldn’t pass out he withdrew like I was poisonous, stepping away from me. That was the Stephen I knew. Arm's length, always.
“That was good. The spell I mean,” he still looked concerned. “I didn’t realize the extent of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were gone-”
“Uh-huh, that is what is usually meant when people say ‘invisibility spell’.”
“Ha-ha ,” Stephen rolled his eyes, and began packing up his sparring equipment, “but I, in all my infinite power, couldn't even feel you. Your presence. Your magic. Anything. It was like you popped out of existence.” When I didn’t reply, he added, “Pretty impressive I have to admit, lots of stealth potential.”
If there was something off about him before, there definitely was now. Behind the look of pride there was a kind of nervous strain.
“I wasn’t sure you were capable of being impressed,” the words were hard to form. Maybe I had been gone. My body certainly felt alien now, like I wasn’t used to being in it.
“I’m full of surprises,” he muttered with a grin. He excused himself to go back to his room to shower, but his gaze lingers on me just a second longer than expected.