A true knight always finishes a story...

The Light of Hidden Flowers

Not all universes are happy. Stephen knows this, has been faced with it multiple times during his Time Stone fueled search for answers… but seeing a devastated, depopulated New York in a few universes is less painful than what he sees here. He can imagine that deaths were quick, or that loved ones are holed away somewhere safe and hidden where he might never find them, and those thoughts bring a bizarre kind of comfort.

But the combination of finding a normal-looking universe without Hope and then immediately stepping into a universe where she’s downtrodden and in misery… it’s almost too much to bear.

Worse still, she’s clearly never met him before.

Unacceptable.

Tony’s pet project Peter would call this a side quest, but Stephen calls it justice. He knows himself, and it doesn’t take that much time to discover that this universe’s Stephen Strange is no sorcerer-- in fact, he’s a lonely workaholic, more dedicated and less egotistical, if the news articles are to be trusted. Well, no matter. If this universe needs him, it’ll call, whether or not the man’s wrist-deep in the task of saving someone’s life.

“Wake up!” Stephen tells his counterpart after spending an hour poking around in the quiet, sterile apartment. It’s too big, too empty, and oddly enough, too full of books of poetry and obviously thumbed-through romance novels. There’s just longing, and nowhere near enough satisfaction.

The solution is staring him in the face: this heartsore, Solemn version of himself needs color in his life, he needs joy, love, a reason for living. 

He needs Hope.

Solemn startles awake, hand scrabbling for his wired alarm clock as if he could fight Stephen off with a symbol of time itself.

“I’ve finally truly lost it, haven’t I?” Solemn says bleakly, when his sleep-crusted eyes focus on his assailant.

“Wouldn’t you like to be found, instead?”

The bark of laughter he receives in response sounds so pained that Stephen almost wonders what it would be like to swap this man, send him on an adventure of a lifetime. Then again, if he could take someone with him, he’d have taken Not-His-Hope far away from this twisted-axis world and put her in the previous one, the universe that had already lost her.

“Trust me, buddy, no one’s looking.”

“You’re wrong,” Stephen says warmly, throwing an outfit at Solemn. “I’ll prove it to you, but if you hurt her, I’ll come back and set your whole world on fire.”

“Her?” Solemn scoffs-- but his hands speed up in their task of dressing. “What are you, the Ghost of Divorces Past?”

Stephen re-assesses how fair he’s been to this version of himself. If he’d married Christine and then lost her, instead of driving her away out of pain and ingratitude, he could very easily see himself becoming a sad recluse, wedded to his work.

“Sure I am. You have a spare room, yes?” he asks his other self, stalking out into the hallway to flip on the light and open various doors. Yes. Perfect. The overpriced apartment is just as he remembered, with two separate ‘master’ bedrooms of equal size-- and a shared luxury bathroom between. Just enough privacy and lack thereof.

“You do know it’s three in the morning,?” Solemn asks from behind him. “You’re not making me go out, are you? It’s freezing.”

Stephen whirls around. “Not fit for stray dogs, this weather, yes?” When Solemn just stands there looking confused, he pushes further. “Who or what do you think I am?”

“I think you’re a deranged version of me. You’re clearly here, I can touch you--” Solemn reaches out with one confident finger and pokes. “--but as to why, I couldn’t say. Cosmic realignment?”

“Something like that. I’m in the middle of saving the universe. Mine, mind you. Yours is… probably fine,” Stephen muses, gesturing for Solemn to follow him to the coat closet. He reaches in and pulls out a serviceable piece of boring warmth and tosses it over. “Except for one thing. The woman I love-- the woman you’ll probably love, if you know what’s good for you-- is in a bad way, here. Abandoned. Alone. It won’t stand. You’re in the same emotional space, by the looks of it, but where she has nothing, you have too much, if you catch my drift.”

Impatiently, Stephen finishes undoing the locks and yanks open the door, but as he’d worried, his dour other self hasn’t followed. 

When he turns around to see why, Solemn is standing in the doorway in his socks.

“Shoes, you have shoes, do you not?”

“You’re an intergalactic matchmaker??”

Stephen walks over and points to the closet. “SHOES.”

“I--”

“Are you lonely?”

Solemn blinks at him, sleepiness and indignance warring on his face. “Yes.”

“Are you bored?”

A hesitant nod.

“Do you need color in your life? Flowers? Softness? Beauty? Grace?”

“I need sleep.”

Stephen sighs, then nods. “Okay, we’ll do it the easy way, then.” He spins up a portal to the parking lot Hope’s car is parked in, grabs Solemn by the elbow, and drags him through, socks and all.

He only realizes the flaw in his audacious plan when he taps on the slightly-fogged window. Consent. He has no idea whether she’ll be terrified to see two versions of a stranger demand that she uproot everything she owns. What if these two are too different to recognize each other’s souls?

It’s important that he not screw this up, so Stephen turns away to take a deep breath and settle himself. He runs through a bastardized version of one of Wong’s mantras and focuses on his breathing for a while, stepping further away so he’s not standing in a half-frozen puddle.

When he’s ready a few minutes later, Stephen is surprised to see that life has continued on without his interference, in the most unexpected and heartwarming of ways.

Solemn is crouched next to the open door of Hope’s sedan, and he’s got a small flashlight in his hand. Hope is cocooned in a blanket, stockinged feet dangling out of the car, staring at him in wonder. His heart contracts in his chest. She looks so like his Hope, and yet not quite. 

“Tip your head back?” Solemn commands in a concerned voice. He straightens, a few seconds later, and looks over at Stephen. “She’s not well.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I’m sorry, are-- are you twins?” Hope asks in a weary voice, one hand steadying herself as she stands on the hem of her blanket. Stephen can’t skip ahead, can’t use magic to mend either of them. He’s got to experience each second, each minute of trying to persuade these people they’re good for each other.

It’s excruciating.

“That would be both more and less Strange than the reality,” Stephen finally answers with a forced chuckle. “How long can you leave your car here?”

Her expression grows distant, but somehow more noble, at the same time. “Two days, why?”

Stephen looks at Solemn, who is looking at him like he’s just solved a riddle. “You love her!” The steam from his exclamation puffs out into the cold night air and disappears, just like Stephen’s hopes that his crazy plan will work. There’s no way she’ll trust them now.

“He does look at me like he knows me, somehow,” Hope observes, shuffling over to stand closer to Solemn. “You’re warm,” she whispers, next. “I thought this was a dream, but--”

“So did I! I should be asleep, but instead I’m here living out a real-life Dickens nov-- Hang on,” Solemn says, breaking off and snapping his fingers before pointing at Stephen. “You want me to take her home with me, don’t you! What is this, our do-over?”

“Home,” Hope muses softly, before Stephen can answer. 

It’s too much for him, and he looks up at the sky, furious at himself for his inability to hide the agony he’s feeling to see this normal-looking world’s miserable flaws. Escape is right there for the taking, and he almost wishes he had the cowardice to skip to the next universe and pretend this one never happened.

Ten million universes, and no solution to be found, yet. Is it comforting that it took ten million universes to find one where Hope is--

A hand on his arm startles Stephen out of his agonizing reverie.

“What can I do to help?” Hope asks.

That question hurts more than anything he endured at Dormammu’s hands.

“You can trust me,” he blurts out. “Both of you. Go through the portal I’m about to make, and lay down in a warm bed and sleep until you aren’t tired anymore.” Stephen turns to look at Solemn. “Talk to each other. Cook together. Read. If after a week you’re not smiling more, if you don’t feel like your day is brighter, help get her back on her feet and move on.” 

The cold air is already freezing the tear tracks on his face, and Stephen wipes them away-- but Solemn surprises him by grabbing his hand and looking at the scars there.

“Who are you?”

“I’m you, after more trauma and triumph.”

“And you know her? From where you’re from?”

“Yes.” Stephen looks over and sees that Hope’s shivering. He pulls his wrist free of Solemn and casts a portal directly to the guest bedroom, watching her face. The bright gold casts a light that makes her frozen, delicate wonder look statuesque, despite her patched blanket. “Go on,” he encourages.

“You’re not coming?” she says, looking longingly at the bed on the other side. Solemn comes over to her and offers his arm, catching his breath when she looks up and nods shyly. The two are so caught up in the newness of each other that they don’t hear his answer.

“I have another world to save.”