In the past, Doctor Stephen Strange was an arrogant surgeon, healing to fill his bank account. In the future, Stephen Strange will be one of the world’s greatest sorcerers and one of its best heroes. Now, Stephen Strange is trying to heal himself with shaking hands.

Stephen’s body was tethered to the earth but his soul was travelling the cosmos. The unfortunate thing about Dr Strange was that, much like his body, his soul was tethered to the earth too.

His eyes snapped open. He jolted upwards clutching his head, sweat drenching his face.

“What the hell was that?”

“Astral projection,” I explained. “It involves…”

“Yeah, untethering your soul from your body,” Stephen said. “But I don’t care about this. I came here to heal my hands.”

“And you will leave here with your spirit healed.”

“I didn’t come here for some cryptic spiritual bullshit,” Stephen said. “I came here so that I could go back to my old life. I came here so I don’t have to live the rest of my life as some… some… invalid.”

“Your third eye has been opened,” I said. “You have seen things no normal human as seen. The talent you’ve displayed in mastering the mystic arts is something that has only been seen once every one thousand years and yet you still want to return to a normal life?”

“I don’t care about all of this mystical mumbo jumbo,” Stephen said. “I just want my hands back.”

“Have you seen yourself in the mirror, Strange?” I asked him.

“I…” he paused, staring blankly at the spot he was resting in. At the incense burning around the bare bed.

“Your hair has grown longer,” I said. “The magazines used to describe the great Stephen Strange as a man with a handsome cleanly shaved appearance. Look at you now.”

Stephen clambered over to a chipped bucket of water, staring at the long mess of hair that grew over his shoulders and the beard over his chin.

“You’ve changed this much in the course of a few months,” I said. “Do you really expect things to be the same when you go back?”

Stephen was silent for a while, staring at his reflection in the mirror before he turned to me.

“Yes,” Stephen said, though the confidence in his voice started to wane. “Yes, I do.”

“Very well, Stephen Strange,” I said. I placed a hand on his shoulder. His body crumpled to the floor and standing in front of me was his spirit, glowing amidst the dark midst of the training room.

“Not again,” Stephen said, staring at his body. “I hate this. It’s so…”

All I had to offer was a gentle smile. “Come Stephen, let us go on a journey. Let us see if the world is the same as you left it before you came to the Sanctuary.”

I placed a hand on Stephen’s head and his soul was flung out of his body. We floated up through air, past the buildings of the Sanctuary, past the snow-capped mountains, past the stratosphere, till the earth was nothing more than a blue emerald in a dark void.

…

I showed him Doctor Christine Palmer.

“That’s…”

He reached out to touch her but his hand just passed through her.

“Yes, Stephen,” I said in a whisper. That is Ms. Palmer, a lady I take you’re very familiar with?”

“I am,” Stephen said. “What’s she…”

Doctor Palmer was in front of her mirror, putting on some earring and straightening her eyebrows. After spraying some perfume, she closed the door behind her casting one look at the spot where we stood closed the door behind us.

“Where’s she going?” Stephen asked.

“Why don’t we find out.”

We followed the car through the streets of New York, followed it to an expensive restaurant where…

“Who’s…” Stephen said, hopelessness spreading across his face. “Who’s that she’s talking to?”

Ms. Palmer was sitting across a handsome, well-dressed man, laughing and making merry. Stephen just stood by the window with his hands over the glass, staring, staring.

“This can’t…” Stephen said. “She can’t…”

They left the restaurant together, hand in hand. Ms. Palmer staring at the man with a look that was undoubtedly love.

Stephen Strange wanted to look away, he wanted so desperately to believe it wasn’t true but the truth was standing right in front of him.

Even as a soul, his hands still shook.

“She… she…”

“Moved on,” I said. “A thing you seem incapable of doing.”

Ms. Palmer and the man kissed, gazing at each other with longing.

“Come, we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“No,” Stephen said. “No, there’s no way… We… I…”

I touched his soul with a glowing hand.

…

He placed a steady hand over her shaking ones.

“I… I can’t…”

“You can,” Stephen said calmly. “Just cut an incision right over there.”

“I’m a nurse,” Christine said. “Not a… not a surgical assistant. I handle births and the flu not… not fucking knife wounds.”

“We’re shorthanded right now,” Stephen said. “And I’m going to be busy. He paid good money just…”

“I can’t,” Christine cried. “I can’t. You should…”

“I have you,” Stephen said. “I have you. Just place it over there and…”

And he guided her. And she let him.

…

She placed a steady hand over his shaking ones.

“Look on the bright side…”

“There is no bright side,” he snapped. “I’m useless. Useless. Without these I’m…”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“At least you have your life,” Christine said. “At least you have…”

“What, complacency?” Stephen said. “It was because of those poor excuses for surgeons that I’m like this!”

“Blaming other people won’t fix your hands,” Christine said. “Besides you still have…”

“You,” Stephen scoffed. “A night nurse who couldn’t even run a scalpel through someone’s skin.”

Christine let go. Stephen Strange didn’t notice.

She guided him. He didn’t let her.

…

Stephen’s eyes snapped open.

“Do you now remember how you treated her?”

“That bitch,” Stephen said through grit teeth. “I should’ve known she would’ve betrayed me just like everybody else.”

“You weren’t betrayed Stephen,” I said. “You were just blind.”

“She was all I had,” Stephen said. He removed a watch from his wrist and threw it on the floor. “I thought I would get back to her and…”

Only two people knew of the ring he had tucked underneath his bed, Stephen Strange and myself.

He let out a deep sigh. “It’s… it’s my fault isn’t it? She stuck with me when everybody left and now… Now I have nobody.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

I walked over to him with a hand outstretched.

“Oh god dammit, not ag…”

…

(Christine Palmer left her place of comfort next to her boyfriend’s body. She wrapped a robe around herself and opened her closet, going through her jewellery box and picking up the most expensive thing in it. A thing her nurse’s salary could barely afford but Stephen could.

She’d let go a long time ago. Stephen was a far cry from the man she once fell in love with and what she wanted, what she needed changed but holding that watch reminded her. Reminded her of good times, reminded her of scraping bye and saving her money so that she could buy him a watch. Christine missed him but she wouldn’t have changed anything for the world)

I didn’t show Stephen this because unlike Doctor Palmer, on his watch. time never ticked forward.

…

“You can’t be serious,” Adam Strange said. “No leads. God dammit.”

“That’s…” Stephen muttered.

“Your brother, yes,” I said. “It seems the Strange family are privy to holding onto things.”

Adam slammed the phone on the table.

His girlfriend Michelle placed a comforting hand on his back. “You see he’s gone. Just accept it…”

“He’s presumed missing,” Adam snapped. “Not gone. I asked around at the bank and they said he withdrew a large amount of money for a trip and…”

“Adam,” Michelle said firmly. “This is driving you crazy. I can’t stand to see you like this. You’re driving the both of us apart and…”

“He’s my little brother, Michelle,” Adam said. “I can’t just leave him alone like this. I know for a fact that he wouldn’t abandon me so…”

“Just face it,” Michelle said. “Your brother is gone, dead or otherwise. You need to move on. This obsession it’s… it’s driving you crazy. You need to stop before…”

Adam sighed. “I’m sorry Michelle.” He turned to face her. “But he’s my brother.”

Michelle clenched her fist. She turned her back on Adam and left the room. Adam’s sigh was remorseful, he pinched the bridge of his nose and went back to his phone, tapping in a number.

“He doesn’t have to…” Stephen said. “I made my choice.”

“Your brother loves you, Stephen,” I said. “Loves you so much he refuses to let go. Much like you and your ties to this world.”

“Can’t I at least tell him something?” Stephen said. “Tell him I’m fine or…”

“We don’t know how our choices will affect others, Stephen,” I said. “All we can do is make them and accept the consequences whatever they may be.”

“This is Hugo Strange,” the voice on voicemail said with an eerie confidence. “For any queries or bookings please refer to my assistant otherwise make it quick.”

“Oh god no,” Stephen said. “Not Hugo. Hugo is… Hugo…”

“Look Hugo,” Adam said. “I… I know we don’t talk anymore and… and… yeah. But you helped with Stephen’s surgery and I guess…”

“No Adam,” Stephen shouted. “Not him. Anybody but him.”

I stepped in front of Stephen.

“Scream all you want,” I said. “Your brother will not hear you.”

“I don’t know I guess I’m trying to appeal to the part of you that cares,” Adam said. “I know you don’t like us or dad for that matter but he’s our baby brother and…”

Adam turned back. “What’s that?”

“He’s a monster, Adam,” Stephen pleaded desperately. “Don’t do it. Don’t…”

Stephen placed his transparent palms on Adam’s shoulders, screaming to a person who wouldn’t hear him.

And then there was a flash of pure white light that startled the both of us.

Stephen stared at empty space. Adam Strange had disappeared.

“W-where’s Adam?” Stephen muttered.

He turned to me, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Where the hell is my brother?”

“Gone,” I said calmly. “He’s gone light years away from us.”

“That doesn’t answer anything,” Stephen said. “Where the hell is my…”

Stephen tried yanking me to face him but before he could we were back in the Sanctuary. Stephen let out a gasp.

“You Strange brothers are destined for great things,” I said. “Even the worst of you.”

…

(You have one voice mail.

Pointed ears stared at him. Mannequins dressed in black, dressed in the likeness of the man that haunted his mind, driving Hugo Strange into a deep obsession he hadn’t felt in a long while. An obsession that made him feel alive.

Hugo Strange played the voicemail.

“Look, Hugo I know we…” said a voice. The voice of his brother.

Hugo Strange paused the voicemail and deleted it.

He picked up his pen and started working on his reports, unaware of the crack that had formed on the surface because of how tightly he was gripping it.

Ink squirted out of the pen and into his hand. A frustrated sigh later he threw the pen into the dustbin but it bounced off the edge and onto the floor. Hugo picked it up again and threw it but it bounced off.

Hugo let out a scream. He picked up the pen and threw it at one of the mannequins that was in the room, ink splashing all over the hooded face.

Hugo shouted and upturned his desk, papers and pens scattered all over the room. He stepped on pens, tore papers, threw down his mannequin. His office becoming more and more claustrophobic until he stood alone, surrounded by the mess he had made. Upturned mannequins and torn paper, Hugo Strange just laughed.)

…

“Do you see now, how much things have changed?” I asked, as Strange regained his consciousness. “How things are different after you left?”

“I have to go back,” Stephen said. “I… I… left too much behind. Too much unfinished business. I…”

I sighed. “Even when faced with a new reality you still try to return to something normal.”

“Do you have a way back down?” Stephen asked. “I’ll… I’ll need some money and…”

“Well, the world is anything but normal,” I said. “Some might say the world is even… Strange.”

“Shut up with your cryptic bullshit,” Stephen snapped. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d just healed my hands like you were supposed to. None of this would have happened if you just let me have what I wanted without any of this… this…”

Stephen grumbled. “Ugh. Can you just let me go home, please? Adam’s in danger and Christine… Christine…”

“Even after everything your worldview is still so small,” I said. “Such a disappointment.”

“I don’t care about my world view being small,” Stephen said. “Or this… this third eye bullshit. I just want to go home.”

I walked over to Stephen. “Just one last attempt.”

“Attempt?” Stephen said, taken aback. “I told you I don’t care about this I just want to…”

I placed a thumb on Stephen’s forehead and for once in his life, Stephen Strange saw…

He saw a Deadman in a lively circus like a castaway in a sea of smiles, eyes focused on the bright colours and sweets. Bodies walking through him as if he was invisible. Through the white eyes of the spirit, the Deadman saw the people he loved move past him as he wasn’t there, smiling and laughing with the rest of the circus.

In the vast desert he saw a lone figure walk and walk and walk, cursed to wander endlessly. He didn’t leave a footprint in the sand; he didn’t leave a trace except to a special few. And even to those special few, he was nothing but a Phantom Stranger.

A vast Spectre loomed over earth. Forced to carry out justice by a power unknown and only after justice was carried out would this Spectre know peace. But the blacks and whites of justice was almost never carried out in a world so grey.

He saw the stones at the beginning of time, the scythe at the end of it. He saw a green paradise, light years away from a black fiery hell. He saw Gods, he saw Demons. He saw beings made from the stars. He saw a silver herald and the planets he warned being consumed.

He saw the spectrum. The fiery reds, the consuming orange, the cool blues of hope, the purple and pink of compassion and love. The bright yellow blinded him but the strong green guided him and the beginning he saw white and at the end black.

He was just but a tiny speck in the endlessly sprawling rows of universes, of earths that stretched out endlessly beneath him.

Stephen Strange’s eyes snapped open.

“What was…” he met my eyes and when he did, he finally understood.

Stephen Strange was born again.

…

(“That bastard Mordo,” Wong spat. “He has tainted this Sanctuary with his sins and now…”

“Let’s not get our panties in a twist now Wong,” Doctor Strange said. “The Ancient One preached patience. Let us be patient and wait for leads from our sorcerers.”

Wong nodded. “You’re right. Haste and anger don’t serve any purpose but to hinder us.” He sighed. “But still, the Ancient One’s absence is felt.”

Doctor Strange nodded in sad agreement. “I know, Wong. I know. It was in this very chamber where she taught me to…”

Stephen noticed something glinting in the corner of the room. “What’s that?”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “What’s what?”

“Nothing just…”

Stephen flicked his fingers and wrapped in a bubble was a watch. The glass surface was cracked but Stephen recognised the watch. He smiled.

“Are you done?” Wong asked.

“What was that?” Stephen muttered.

“I asked if you’re done,” Wong said. “We have to move. We don’t know where Mordo will strike next.”

“Yeah you’re right,” Stephen said. “Let’s return to the Sanctum. I’m starving. The pizzaman must be waiting.”

“You ordered margherita, right?”

”Course I did,” Stephen said. “What do you take me for Wong?”

“Good,” Wong said. “I love margherita.”

Strange placed the watch on the table. A bright orange light shone and soon the room was empty save for a broken watch ticking on and on, never stopping.