marvel one-shots

27. doctor strange ; my love pt1

And there they were, his hand in hers as she dangled off the edge of a sideways building. Her makeup streamed down her face as she wept. It was Grace weeping deep down.

"Let go," she paused, breathing unsteadily, "She loved you." And it was her that let go.

"Grace!" he yelled after her before taking a heroic leap downward, more sideward, for her.

But let's go back to where it all began, shall we?

A not-so long time ago, in a galaxy right down the street, a man with exceptional abilities had woken up in the middle of the night.

It wasn't out of the usual because this said man, one Doctor Stephen Strange, recently had a surgery go extremely wrong. His patient, Yin Jung, was experiencing epilepsy. She went to him, seeking an operation.

It was all very uniform, clean cut. But in the last moments of surgery, she surged upward. This caused the syringe to be inflicted deep into the brain and skull.

Her eyes were wide and white, oddly enough, and she died within seconds.

What was bothering him so much was the beckoning questions: how did she awaken from such heavy prescription and why?

He'd woken up every night after with the same sickening feeling.

So there he sat on the patio of the little apartment in Brooklyn, watching the stars and thinking.

"Stephen, come back to bed," her gentle voice broke the crisp air. He turned halfway as she sat next to him on the patio swing.

"I can't."

"Honey it was a bad surgery, it went wrong. It happens."

"But it's how it happened," he looked at her and her eyes were curiously watching him. "She woke from heavy anesthetics like that," he snapped, "and she wasn't even really awake."

"In a world of flying iron suits, super soldiers, and wizards," she looked at him, with an eyebrow perked, "there's nothing normal."

"Still..."

"You're being ridiculous. Whatever she was, she's gone. Leave it be, come to bed."

He stood, and she took his hand and led him to the bed. She fell asleep, as he was waiting for her to.

He gently got her off him, with some skillful - and practiced, maneuvers. He went to the closet, pulling on his usual garb; and most specially, the Time Stone.

"I love you, my Grace," he whispered, mostly to himself, before slipping out the apartment door and into the hall. He hurried to the stairs and descended several climbs. He waited a moment to catch his breath, and left the building.

He jogged through alleyways and darkened streets before making it to the Avengers' Tower. He worked his way up the elevator shaft and found the main floor. He stepped through the doors, which he opened himself, and into the lighted living room.

The team sat, watching The Dark Knight Rises, and all looked at him.

"Yin Jung, she's not dead," he spoke stiffly.

"Who?" Tony asked. He sat up, forcing Steve up from his reclined, laying position.

"No, that's not right. She's undead. She's a Fallen Spirit. I took her on as a patient and she died in surgery, but she's roaming New York for a host," he paced.

"English, Stephen?" Natasha questioned.

He stopped, "My God. She's going for Grace."

"I'll go start the Quinjet, come on," Tony said, standing and grabbing a suit disk. He pressed the central button and the suit folded outward from the disk, enclosing him in the splendid yellow and red suit.

The team made it to the Quinjet, and were off into the night. Within moments, they were at the apartment building.

Grace stood on the roof, where they landed.

"Yin Jung I command you to show yourself," he instructed to the host.

"No, we are one. You see her, you see me. You will never have your Grace back," it was Grace's voice, but the Fallen Spirit's intent.

He grew angry; it was one thing to hurt someone you love, but something entirely different to force them into a slavery of sorts.

Before he knew it, the world shifted. He was experiencing emotional trauma, and the world was the victim of it.

"Doctor," Tony started, but it didn't matter. The building twisted and turned, reality was a joke.

Grace began to slide down the side of the building, as the Avengers clung to the anchored jet. Stephen slid, skillfully, towards his love.

She clung to a rung of a fire escape latter, and his body was against the whole of it. He was safe, holding onto her.

"Humans are all fools," Yin cackled inside Grace.

"How so?" He called over the noise of the building moving.

"You do anything for the one you call your love."

"That's the beautiful thing, Yin."

"Ha," she scoffed, "You know you can't kill me, don't you?"

He nodded.

"I just want you to be good. There's no reason why you can't be good," he spoke.

"It's boring."

"Not necessarily."

"Well this is boring, let go," she commanded, "I've had enough."

"Give Grace back. You can have me," she considered it before stating finally:

"Let go. She loved you, but it's time to let go," she unlaced her fingers and began the treacherous fall to the concrete, her robe flapping at the wind. Without a thought, he leaped over the latter.

He fell, following her. His capes had flown up majestically as he fell downward, or sideward for her. And he caught her arm, pulling her close to him.

And the world froze.