Strange Nightmares

Strange Nightmares 14

As the trio slowly walked back down the moonlit road to Tvania, Stephen couldn't help but look back up at the tiny red slit in the sky, trying to reassure himself that it was the same size that it had been the last time he checked it. His stomach was free of nausea, his brain clear of fog, but the burden on his conscience weighed him down like a pile of bricks. If there was some way he could have at least said goodbye to his parents, to Wong, to America before this had happened, he would have accepted it with some degree of grace. All he could do was hide his feelings behind a brick wall, fear and self-loathing pounding at it like a tsunami. He had to go into this with not a single tool at his disposal but courage.

There was a way back in to stop Nightmare, but this time there would be no return. Either way, Nightmare would take one life, or he would take hundreds.

When they returned to the sleeping neighborhood and to their home, Sylvie didn't need them to tell her they'd lost. She knew, somehow, without anyone saying a word to each other. Mobius slunk away to his room, Christine to the den, with a little squeeze of Stephen's arm.

"Tell me if you need anything," she whispered.

He nodded in reply. He wouldn't need anything except her forgiveness for what he had to do.

Stephen sat down in the dark, still living room, crossing his legs under him and taking a meditative position. All the creaks and rustling and footsteps faded away as Mobius and Christine settled down in their beds for an uneasy sleep. He took deep, steady breaths, enjoying what small things he could about his existence, thinking of everything he'd left behind.

An image of his newly broken hands popped into his mind, covered in stitches and metal supports, trussed like a dead turkey. That moment was the most useless and helpless that he'd ever felt in his life, until now. At least then he'd had an excuse. He tried to let those intrusive thoughts, those awful memories, to subside, to meditate and allow himself some measure of peace.

Sylvie's footsteps crept cautiously towards him and he opened his eyes.

"Doctor?" she said, sitting down on the floor with him. There was nothing else to her question, but the frightened glint in her eyes told him everything.

"Sylvie," he replied. "I could sit here and apologize a million times, none of it would make any difference. But I want you to know that I am sorry."

She shook her head and looked down at the floor. "There's nothing to apologize for, Doctor Strange. I'm sorry I punched you. I'm sorry I've been so impatient." She let out a long, shuddering breath. "So, how long until ... you know? When should I tell Tvania?"

"Don't tell them anything, yet," he said. "There is one last chance to save this place, but ... " he trailed off and swallowed hard. "Sylvie, do you have a weapon?"