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darsynia · 2 years ago

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Diminished Seventh (ch 4)

art found here: duttaayon14008 | gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise

In this chapter, the eavesdropping spell Stephen cast on her at Kamar Taj has put Amy in a precarious position, forcing her to accept Stephen's help.

Length: 3,834

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A 'diminished seventh' chord creates tension that begs to be resolved.

Excerpt:

The sound of a man’s voice in her apartment woke her in a panic.

Amy threw herself out of bed and toward the kitchen area of her single-room apartment, headed for the knives.

“I didn’t mean to scare you-- I didn’t think you lived in an efficiency!” Stephen’s voice was pained. “I cast the portal to your living room.”

She paused with her hand on the handle of her largest knife. “You thought it was okay to show without any advanced warning? Even if I lived in a mansion that would have been wildly out of line!” Amy looked across the dividing cabinets and saw that he was standing with his back to her. “Anyway, you are in my living room.”

“I see that now.”

Content note: mention of a domestic attack of a son against his mother

Chapter Four

She was bone tired. Bone tired and wishing desperately that there had been another option, any other option, than what she’d felt compelled to do the night before.

“Miss?” Amy looked up to see an officer at the door. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, but it looks like the guy I need to run point on this is almost done. Ten more minutes? If it’s another thirty, I’ll send you home to come back tomorrow.”

Amy tried very hard not to show her disappointment. “All right.” The officer rapped cheerfully on the doorframe and left, letting the heavy door to what was probably an interrogation room shut automatically behind him.

Her phone rang, and she almost didn’t pick it up, but it was 11:30 at night, and that was nearly always an emergency. Expecting to see [blocked number] or something, she was surprised to see a regular NYC number listing.

“Hello?”

“Amy?” It was Strange. She hadn’t given him her number.

“Miss Cairn, yes. What do you want?”

There was no chance in hell that the room wasn’t wired, and she didn’t really want to answer questions at all, much less about this conversation.

“Miss Cairn, then. You’re late. Do I need to impress on you again the importance of--”

“I understand that,” Amy said coolly. “There was someone waiting to speak with me once I got home from work, and their queries take precedence, I’m afraid. Beyond that, I seriously doubt I’d be able to make it over there any time before two in the morning, and that’s if all goes well.”

“‘Their queries take precedence?’” he parroted back, sounding deeply confused. “Are you still at work? You know I can open a portal--”

“For the love of all that is good in the world, please do not!” she exclaimed quickly before schooling her tone into something that wouldn’t cause a police detective to harry her. “There is no need to send someone or do anything drastic. I am merely late.”

“Where are you? Tell me right now.” Stephen’s tone was flat.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his business. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Both answers would earn her a portal visitor and a hell of a lot of trouble, however.

“I am at a police station, waiting to speak to a detective about the assault my next-door neighbor perpetrated on his mother last night. I happened to overhear the incident, and called to report it.”

There was silence on the line for a good minute, and then Stephen said, “Is there someone in the room with you right now?”

“I am exhausted, overworked, and unable to speak to you on this matter any further. Stay put and give my regards to Spike, would you please?” Amy said-- and hung up.

It had been two in the morning when she finally got home, but she was not among the people who’d been asked to work Saturday, so Amy put on the first nightgown she could grab and fell into a grateful sleep. She planned to wake up just in time for lunch and figure out where to buy the anti-burglary device her father had suggested she get. The preceding four months since those neighbors had moved in had been punctuated by many angry altercations in the hallways, and they would probably escalate, now.

The sound of a man’s voice in her apartment woke her in a panic.

Amy threw herself out of bed and toward the kitchen area of her single-room apartment, headed for the knives.

“I didn’t mean to scare you-- I didn’t think you lived in an efficiency!” Stephen’s voice was pained. “I cast the portal to your living room.”

She paused with her hand on the handle of her largest knife. “You thought it was okay to show up without any advanced warning? Even if I lived in a mansion that would have been wildly out of line!” Amy looked across the dividing cabinets and saw that he was standing with his back to her. “Anyway, you are in my living room.”

“I see that now.”

He really did, because their eyes met in the large mirror mounted a few feet beside the television. It was meant to make the space feel larger, but Stephen’s presence seemed to shrink everything down to barely enough room for the two of them. He held her gaze for a few seconds before shutting his eyes and covering them with a forearm.

Amy was deeply confused until Cloak soared off of his shoulders and over toward her, settling onto her shoulders and folding its corners around her torso. It was warm from his body, which made her bare arms cold in contrast.

That’s when she remembered she was wearing a nightgown. Amy looked down at what was still visible and ran into the bedroom corner of her apartment to throw on more clothes. She only owned one sleeveless nightgown. It was practically negligee-- and Stephen Strange had shown up uninvited only to see her wearing it!

The best way to handle that kind of embarrassment was to pretend it hadn’t happened, to push away her reaction so she could deal with it later, she knew. The problem was, Amy couldn’t shake a tiny little thrill that kept sizzling around inside of her, wondering what he’d thought after seeing her dressed that way. Whether he’d… liked what he saw.

“One minute!” she called out, tugging at Cloak so she could put a shapeless sweatshirt on. It floated helpfully as a barrier between herself and Strange as she pulled on a pair of pants. The only mirror in the apartment was near him, so she couldn’t really check what she looked like, but it had to be better than what she’d been wearing when he’d first shown up.

She stood there for a few seconds contemplating what to do. Ideally, she wouldn’t have to deal with her presumptuous visitor at all-- and that thought gave her a plan.

“Ready,” Amy said, walking over to the front door, laying a hand on the knob. “Get out.”

Stephen dropped his arm and turned toward her. “I will, if you come with me.” He started spinning up a portal, and she jogged over and grabbed his hand to stop him. The sparkler-style golden glow he’d been conjuring sputtered and went out.

“I was up incredibly late last night. I still haven’t gotten enough sleep,” Amy said in a low, furious voice. She didn’t let go of Stephen’s hand, and he didn’t pull away. “That spell of yours didn’t fade out for hours and hours! I overheard things I never in a million years would have thought could happen just one room away. I shudder to think--” Stephen let his hand fall and so did she, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off an emotional chill that would take months to fully fade.

“You mean to tell me that you overheard a violent attack next door when you got back here on Thursday? It lasted that long?”

“It was just past ten PM, yes.”

“Ten?” Stephen was incredulous. He walked over to the window and looked critically at the thickness of their frames before striding over to tap his knuckle against the wall near her door. “This apartment building has to have been grandfathered in, there’s no way it passes code. Even if I cast a more potent version of the spell, I don’t think you can attribute what you overheard to--”

“I could hear him whisper to her. It…” she shuddered. “It wasn’t violent, at least not at first. I didn’t call the police because of violence I could hear, I mean.” The mother and son pair often argued, and she usually only heard them when they were all-out screaming. This… had not been that.

Amy closed her eyes and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly and calmly, begging her fears to settle at least until Stephen left and she could gather her thoughts. She pictured a black ocean beneath the room beside her, with a giant wave rising higher and higher, blocking her view of it, washing away her memories for now. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that he was intently staring at the wall and moving his hand back and forth like a magnifying glass. She wondered if he’d cast something that let him see through walls and hoped it didn’t work through clothing.

“Look, I really need you to leave. I-- I don’t think I’ll get any more sleep, and I need to get started on some extra protections for this door. The guy they arrested is one of a group of assholes that love to hang out over there, and I’m pretty sure he’ll know it was me who reported him, so--”

Stephen turned around, his expression stony. “You can’t stay here.”

“Well I’m not going back to Florida to live with my snowbird parents, not that you have any say in the matter!” Amy flared. “The apartment’s a crime scene, there’ll be police there for a few days, I don’t think those guys have the kind of records where they’d want to--”

“There’s no one next door right now, and the caution tape is already gone. You’re not safe,” he repeated.

“Where the hell would I be safe that I can even afford to go to? Do you know how expensive short-term storage is in this city? I’d have to break my lease, I’d have to--” Amy broke off, pressing a hand to her chest. She’d been so sure the police would be dealing with the scene for days! The old lady hadn’t been killed according to the officer, but he’d promised Amy they were still investigating, and didn’t that mean--

The Cloak’s comforting, heavy weight landed on her shoulders again, but this time, only one of its corners came around her, almost like a hug.

“Stop that, your Master already thinks I’m some weird kind of relic charmer!” she hissed at it half-heartedly. Stephen was pacing back and forth, and when he saw what his Cloak had done, he nodded decisively, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“There’s lodgings at the Sanctum, and you don’t have a vehicle, correct?”

Amy stared at him. “I’m--” She had to calm herself down. Everything in her life was being upended, and it all had to do with this man.

“No steadying breath. There’s no time. Come, look.”

Stephen led her over to the window. She went reluctantly, curious to know what his argument could possibly be. Her apartment was on the third floor of the complex, across from a market that had near-constant foot traffic during open hours. If he was going to argue that it was too busy--

“Those two men have been standing outside that bodega since I got here, staring up at your windows. Do you recognize them?”

Amy moved to stand right beside him, close enough to touch, and looked out. She caught her breath, backing up. “Yes.”

“You’re not safe here,” Stephen said again.

“I believe you,” Amy breathed.

After her long, calming breaths hadn’t done much to help, Stephen had suggested she head over to the sanctum for a while. He called Wong over and promised they would do their best to make her apartment safe while she studied the books she’d borrowed from Kamar Taj. Given that every cell in her body was screaming at her to get out of there, Amy took him up on it. As soon as she’d gotten in her little study room, the need to distract herself with something analytical had taken over, and boy, was she grateful.

She came up for air after three hours, thirsty and cold, which she attributed wryly to her body using most of her heat-energy on keeping away the fear that ought to be gnawing away at her. The two jerks she’d seen outside were among of the most obnoxious visitors she’d seen frequently in the hallway, and they knew who she was.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it right now, so she shoved those thoughts back into the waves.

There was probably a kitchen, but where? Amy stopped just inside the doorway of the library and bit her lip. Something told her that Stephen probably had a ward or surveillance spell set up to track where she went, because despite his gruff caretaking, the man did not trust her.

“That’s fine,” Amy said aloud, a little defensively. “I’m not sure I trust him either.”

The thought occurred that she probably couldn’t make things worse by looking for food. She looked down at herself. When it was suggested that she spend time at the sanctum, she’d ducked into the bathroom with a change of clothes, but though she was no longer wearing a skimpy nightie covered by a sweatshirt and track pants, Amy was still not sure she fit in very well in this grand place. Though, when she’d walked out of her bathroom wearing her slim-fitted black trousers and red satin crop blouse, Stephen had stood still and stared at her for a few seconds before brusquely turning away to speak with Wong. She’d half expected to see something wrong with her outfit, like a hint of her lace bra showing against the low neckline.

If he were anyone else, though, she’d have pegged that reaction as admiring.

“All right, well. A girl’s gotta eat,” Amy said loudly, stepping through the doorway and into the hall. Nothing happened. “That was slightly anticlimactic…” she murmured, amused.

“Not necessarily!” Stephen’s voice said from behind her. Amy jumped in surprise, falling over herself to land against the opposite wall.

“Seriously?” she gasped out.

“Had a ward up that notified me if you said something. Which lost Wong some money, by the way. He bet me five bucks you talked back to your books while you studied.” Stephen had an apple, and he took a large bite out of it after his cheerful little speech.

“I used to,” she told him, resting a steadying hand on the tiny line of buttons that led up from her waist on the fitted part of her blouse. “Talking to yourself feels different when your whole apartment can hear you.” Despite herself, she looked longingly at the apple, as Stephen took another bite of it. “Do you have any more of those?”

“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t have any breakfast. This way,” he said. Amy followed, but his demeanor was making her suspicious. There was a little too much ingratiation to it, just like a child who wanted to seem obedient so their parent wouldn’t discover the naughty things they’d done.

“Why are you a pod person?” she asked when he walked her into the kitchen area.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stephen said, raising his eyebrows to ask her if she’d like him to make coffee.

“I tell you what: you make me a cup of that, we go down so I can pet Spike, and then I’ll head over to my friend Vera’s and see whether she can spare some space for me while I look for a new place.”

“Good plan,” he said, faced away from her as he retrieved the sugar and cream from their various places.

“You’re being really helpful. What are you hiding?”

When he turned around, she was reminded of how much she’d really wanted to see him smile. This smile didn’t feel genuine, though. It didn’t reach his eyes, which were illuminated by the way the high windows in the kitchen caught the outside light. Oddly, today they looked green, not at all the same crystal blue she’d been so caught up in at their first meeting.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed, a real expression, unlike his other forced one. He leaned forward and whispered, “You’re staring.”

“Your eyes are different. You are different, today. Are you trying to distract me?” Stephen scoffed, and she pointed at him. “You are! What did you do in my apartment?”

“I brought lunch,” Wong said as he walked in. “It’s all spicy, hope you can handle that we moved you into a room at the sanctum.”

Amy almost missed what he’d really said, distracted as she was by Stephen’s (it had to be said) strange behavior, and the smell of hearty, delicious food.

She stared at Wong.

Wong stared steadily back.

Stephen was staring at Wong, too. “That’s how you break it to her?”

“You were taking too long,” the other sorcerer griped.

Amy heard ringing in her ears as she turned and walked straight out of the kitchen door. She dug in her pocket for her locket, having stuffed it in there instead of drawing attention to her chest by putting it on in front of two men in her tiny apartment. Every single interaction she had with Stephen Strange seemed to put her in more of a stranglehold, and even though the things he offered to teach her were wondrous, she was absolutely terrified. She paused to get her bearings, and behind her, she heard him.

“Amy!”

Telling herself he had no right to use that name anymore, she ignored him and started for a staircase that looked familiar. She clenched her jaw. It wasn’t that she liked her apartment that much, but it was hers, and she’d been living there for years. Deep inside, she asked herself if she would have wanted to live there after her neighbor’s mother was murdered-- because that was what would have happened if she hadn’t overheard what was happening and called for help.

Amy heard Stephen calling her name again and wondered why he didn’t use a portal to stop her.

Guilt, probably, she thought viciously. She spied an entryway that looked like it led to the collection of artifacts on the second floor, and sped up.

“Amy, would you just--” Stephen cut himself off mid-sentence, and then he said, “Miss Cairn, wait. Please.”

That was what she’d been waiting for, so she stopped in the archway and crossed her arms, her locket held tight in one fist. She didn’t turn around.

“They broke in, the men from outside. Please believe me: we wouldn’t have taken such a drastic step if it hadn’t been for that.”

Fear seized her. “Where--” she whispered, unable to connect her breath to her vocal cords.

“In custody,” Stephen said. He was close behind her, and she shrugged her shoulders up, her muscles locking up in defensive mode. “They didn’t see us, but they did position themselves like they were ready to attack you when you came home.” His tone turned derisive. “Not the smartest of criminals. We didn’t even have to call the cops. You were right.”

Amy breathed in, breathed out, and breathed in again. The detailing on her locket dug into her hand with a comforting sting. “The police came back?”

“They came back.”

“My lease is up in four months. The renewal paperwork is set to come in a few weeks. I’d intended to sign it, but I guess I’ll have to start looking,” she said, trying to look at her own situation the same way as people whose homes had been damaged in a storm. Was it fair that this had happened? No. That didn’t change her obligations. She had to live somewhere.

Amy hadn’t realized she’d been standing there with her eyes tightly closed until she felt Stephen slip past her through the doorway. As he went, the Cloak traced a caress on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to smile at it.

“I can offer safe harbor for as long as you need, and if you like, I can take the time to stop by certain listings to ensure they’re suitable,” Stephen said, adding, “This is for you.”

He held out a small object, his hand held flat. It was a brassy tandem ring, the finger loops linked by an oblong chunk of decorative metal adorned with swirls and florets. She had no idea what it was, but it looked valuable.

“One sec,” she said, and took a few seconds to clasp her locket on instead of cramming it back into her pocket. Besides offering comfort, it gave her a few seconds to look at the item and decide whether she would accept it. If he were wise, he’d put a tracker on it-- after all, she’d have been badly hurt or maybe killed if he hadn’t been in her apartment. He needed her, as bizarre as it was. That fact at least helped his offer of a place to stay make sense.

“Your brother’s pictures?” he asked, disturbing her fearful reverie.

“Yes,” she said, wishing she could shorten the chain so it didn’t hang quite so low. The last thing Amy wanted was her mind to latch onto the tiny seedling of attraction she held for Stephen Strange as a means to distract her from everything else that was going haywire in her life.

“If you need to visit him or your parents--”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He fell silent, lifting the hand with the metal object. “It’s a sling ring. The item that makes it possible to cast portals, which are one of the first things to master.”

She recognized the term from the book she’d been poring over that morning. The sling ring looked heavy, so Amy dragged her fingers along his palm to tuck them underneath as she lifted it, and as she did so, she heard Stephen catch his breath. “Is there a specific way I should put it on?”

He held up his hand to show that he was wearing his on the first two fingers. “People with smaller hands find it more comfortable on the two middle fingers.”

Amy slid hers on as he suggested. It felt wrong, a little restrictive, but she supposed that made sense-- from what she’d read, a sorcerer could be quite literally lost without it, stuck in an alternate dimension with no escape. She wanted to feel that it was there, to be reassured by its weight, just like her locket.

There was just one problem. There wasn’t anything reassuring about the chain of events that had brought him to give it to her.

“Okay, time out,” Amy said, making the top of the T with her sling ring adorned hand. “Doesn’t this give me access to basically anywhere in the sanctum, theoretically? What happened to the spy theory?”

Stephen put his hands on his hips. “Well, the way I see it, I can be a suspicious asshole or I can be a helpful asshole. I’m not sure the outcome changes either way, but if you’re not a spy, my being a suspicious asshole won’t help you master the Mystic Arts any faster, now, will it?”

“What about not being an asshole?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t think you’re ready to handle that.”

Next chapter...

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