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@faltineborn
"None of you are going to go anywhere if all the pointless fighting goes on. I don't think it really matters who caused all of this at this point."
"I don't care much about how you all fight with one another." The fights of humans were not usually hers. But that was before. Now, Clea was just as stuck as they were. "I care about solutions. Answers."
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"I'd actually like to discuss that with you further. Over the past year I have developed a certain.. special interest in multiversal theory. And the events of the past few weeks have only added to my already long list of questions. You seem quite knowledgeable on the subject."
"You're a specialist?" That was a relief. Most seemed woefully ignorant in the subject matter. Clea scoffed at his comment, her head shaking lightly. "I wanted to stop an incursion I saw in my reality. It seems now to be quite knowledgeable all you need is to have even heard of the multiverse before this happened." A beat. "But I am."
"Yes, you've mentioned these incursions. I for one would love to hear more about how they came about."
"How much do you know?" It could save her a lot of time if they didn't have to start at the beginning. "It may not be the result of an incursion that we're here, but I was looking into one in my reality right before this mess began."
Dane nodded as if agreeing before giving into reality. "I have no idea what any of that means. I'm new to all this."
"Most are, which is incredibly inconvenient in this situation. To be clear: you haven't heard of an incursion before?"
"Right.. about that whole thing. Uhm, what exactly classifies as an incursion?" Maybe it was a bad idea to be asking about that, but his guilt was eating away at him and he needed to start figuring out if all this was his fault or not.
"When the multiverse contracts, realities bump into each other." More or less. Clea wasn't a scientist. She knew enough about it to put on a brave face with Stephen, but she wasn't a specialist. "After they collide, they're obliterated. This could be from a number of reasons, including tampering with things that should not be tampered with."
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"... are you talking about me or something? That felt real pointed."
"No. Should I have been?" He did look guilty. Clea had been referring to Stephen, but she wasn't going to name him directly.
"and we're sure this reality mish-mash has nothing to do with a maximoff? cause they sorta have a thing for playing doll house with real people."
"Anything β or anyone β we can cross off of the list of possibilities is helpful. Where could I inquire about these Maximoffs?"
"If you've come to ask for my help, I know just as much as you do." Which was unfortunately, nothing. It was a hard pill for Stephen to swallow, but it was the truth.
"You know that's not why I would come to you." Stephen β objectively β knew less than Clea did. "But I cannot explain what an incursion is one more time today. I'm going to lose my mind."
"what is that!?"
"A mess. We're surrounded by them." That was both literal and figurative.
It was bizarre, to wake up in a Sanctum that wasn't his own for the past week. Everything was mostly the same way he assumed he left things back in his own reality, but there was a certain offness about the entire thing that he couldn't shake.
The twin bed he found himself sleeping on was certainly one of the most glaring changes. It didn't help that there seemed to be a shortage of rooms, so the Clea from his reality was forced to share a room with him.
The two of them clearly didn't see eye to eye on most things, so the irony of being confined to the same space together wasn't lost on him. The other variants of themselves appeared to be married, which only added to the discomfort, but Stephen opted to occupy himself with other things-- like trying to recover these memories he was apparently missing.
A meeting with Spider-Man was certainly on the table, but that required going out to try and find him, and Stephen at least needed a cup of something before that. When he finally strolled into the kitchen, he eyed the mugs Clea was filling with water and took his from mid-air when it was filled, softly rolling his eyes at her comment as he grabbed a tea bag and moved to sit down.
The meeting at the Baxter Building mentally drained him, there was no denying that. He didn't feel like responding to her comment about sleeping for most of the day, but he did respond to her next words. "No. I have... fragments. Nothing of use."
Stephen tried to make it clear from his tone that he wasn't in the mood for whatever else it was she was going to try and nag him about, but to his surprise-- and apology came out of Clea's lips. He tensed for a few seconds afterwards as he dipped his tea bag into his mug and furrowed his brows, like he was waiting for another shoe to drop. But when it didn't, his face softened slightly.
"It's alright. I'd probably be frustrated too if I was in your position. I've been... reckless, as of late. Apparently more reckless than I can even remember."
Interpersonal relationships, it turned out, were complicated. People were β by their intrinsic nature β unnecessarily emotional & overly messy. They couldn't help it. Not really. At the end of the day, it was just how they were built. The undeniable fact that Stephen Strange had messed a mess of the multiverse was underscored by the fact that he had done so because he cared. He cared so damn much that he had rolled the cosmic dice β metaphorically speaking β and now consequences had to be paid.
What would it be like to care that much for another? To be willing to risk it all? To risk everything to keep someone you loved safe? It was with some surprise that Clea found she was disappointed by the fact that there was no one in her life that warranted that kind of fierce devotion and protection. She had lived as a product of her environment, and it was only now she was realizing that there was a possibility that her environment had downfalls she had yet to uncover.
Her mind moved in myriad ways, but Stephen was looking at her like she was supposed to have the answers. Her mug now placed on the table before her, Clea's body folded as she sank into one of the empty chair. "I realize I came in quite strongly to say the least." What was it she had said with her dagger slashing at the fabric of reality itself? You caused an incursion, and we're going to fix it.Β Unless you're afraid. "However," Clea paused. "I am not like your friend America or this supposedly Fantastic Four. I travel dimensions, not realities. This is newer to me than I'm comfortable with."
She'd never go as far as admitting she was afraid. That wasn't in Clea's vocabulary. There was no room for fear in the Dark Dimension or in the hearts of the Faltine. Still, it was there. Although it was just a kernel, it was present all the same. Variants, new realities... it was all more than Clea had accounted for. She loved a game she knew how to win; right now, she couldn't even see what cards she was holding.
"Moving forward, I think it would suit us both to be as transparent as possible with one another. I would not go as far as say you need to be my friend, but I think a partner in all this would suffice. Even if you're afraid. There are no outs this time."
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@wizardstrange
Okay, maybe she hadn't been the kindest. Kindness, in some ways, wasn't in her vocabulary. It wasn't in her innate nature to soften blows or sugarcoat unpleasantries. Softness was not favored in the Dark Dimension; kindness too easily became synonymous with weakness in the minds of the Faltine, and they had bred out any inklings to lean that way throughout the centuries. Before she had even met him, Clea had known that Stephen Strange had messed up. He had created an incursion and now someone had to fix it. Clea had enlisted herself to be that someone, but her annoyance ran high.
Why, then, did she feel the softness creeping in?
It had begun at the Baxter Building. The fanged spider-hero β Miguel O'Hara they called him β had come at Stephen for his errors. He hadn't been wrong, exactly, in his judgements, but he hadn't entirely been fair either. A streak of protectiveness had begun to burn in Clea that she hadn't expected. This would be no surprise to her mother; Umar had long believed her daughter to be too soft. Maybe that's why she had entangled herself with Stephen Strange and his problems: despite her best efforts to the contrary, Clea cared.
The kitchen she found herself in was an unfamiliar one, as was the Sanctum Sanctorum the multiversal refugees β or so they had been called β had taken shelter in. It made more sense to stay there than the Avengers Compound that had been offered. The downside, of course, was co-populating with a multiversal variant of herself that was married to a Stephen Strange with a sickening devotion. So far, she had been able to avoid them with varying degrees of difficulty.
On this morning, however, Mr. & Mrs. Strange were not in the Sanctum. Clea hadn't asked where they were going. Instead, she had busied herself. A royal by birth, the kitchen had never been a place for her to spend her time. Still, she would make do. An apology for almost throwing Stephen under the bus wasn't on the table; she hadn't actually done anything. Still, a part of her longed to be comforting and not hostile. They needed to be allies in this strange ( no pun intended ) situation they had found themselves in.
"You've slept half the day." The words were spoken over her shoulder as Clea summoned two mugs to pour the boiling water into. She was too embarrassed to admit she didn't know how to work the coffee pot, so tea it would have to suffice. "You didn't happen to dream up any missing memories, did you?" Stephen had seemed on the verge of a panic attack with the accusations being thrown at him β accusations he claimed to not understand or fully remember.
There was a moment of silence as Clea shifted from one foot to another, one nail tapping at the glass of her mug. "Stephen." Her lips pursed. A sigh. "We're allies in all of this, and I acknowledge that I may have been...harsh. So. I apologize." The apology she had said she wasn't going to give felt clunky and awkward, but it was there nonetheless. It was a start.
"Considering the fact that some people were running around recklessly creating incursions, none of this should be a huge surprise. Unfortunate, yes, but not entirely out of left field."
WILLA FITZGERALD Rose & Ivy | by Alison Engstrom | April 2022
DOCTOR STRANGE IN THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS
Clea and Doctor Strange by Rachael Stott
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