You went and put me on a bigger stageMade me want to go and live again
- LP
Before he can open his eyes, he knows there's a problem.It's not the hard ground he can feel under him or the aches in his body letting him know he has slept at least a couple of hours with it under him. He has slept in worse conditions, after all. Most of those times are whenever he has had a hard enough battle, and if his memories don't fail him, he has been in one before awakening here.
The problem is that he remembers an arm going through his torso, distracting the enemy, and giving his successor enough time to finish it.
The problem is that after a couple of centuries of being alive and finally finding out a way to age and die, an injury of that proportion would have most likely killed him off without any external help, which they didn't have in that dimension. Morbid curiosity has him check himself for injuries, and when he doesn't find any grave one, he resigns to face reality.
The problem, at its root, is that he can open his eyes.
He does so after feeling a drop of water fall on his nose. There is no point in being in denial, even if he wishes to remain that way. The first thing he sees is the dark grey sky; the clouds hiding everything above make it hard to identify the exact time. It reflects his mood, and for a weird second, he's glad it's not sunny. Not that he cares much about that, nor does he care about the rumbling above him or the rain that starts falling.
He looks down at his hands; seeing their familiar ruined state brings no comfort, especially when he sees them looking young. The skin is injured but supple, without the dark spots that come from age. Running a trembling hand against his face and hair is enough. He doesn't need a mirror to know he's again in his prime. He was the same after discovering a flerken willing to eat the radiation the Time Stone gives off without really eating him.
After years of constantly using it and being its champion, it didn't take long for him to discover that he wasn't aging. The cause being the Time Stone. In the same way the other Stones had given powers to Carol Danvers, Maximoff, and Vision, it had also given something of a boost.
Once again, checking himself a little more thoroughly, and finding no radiation causes him to let out a relieved sob after he realizes he can still age. Not that it's enough of a consolation, but at least it's something. Can someone blame him? It had taken centuries for him to find a solution to his ageless figure, centuries of seeing everyone he cared about die, and then decades to find the flerken willing to do so. After that, it took a couple of years for Goose to eat the radiation from his body.
He's never thought of killing himself; to take that final step seemed like letting down the many people he's known. It's true he has a responsibility to the balance of his Universe, but what really stopped him were not the responsibilities, but the people who had and still have faith in him.
However, it had been decades since he started aging and a couple of years since his successor had been ready.
He was ready to die.
His spells were still strong, but his speed wasn't what it once had been. Most of it was because of age, but another was because he was just so tired. Tired of the constant weight of responsibility, tired of seeing all his loved ones grow and die, leaving him behind.
He told his successor as much when she were ready to use her power to save him. After all, it was futile and would probably expose her to other hidden dangers, which he couldn't accept. Being in another dimension is no joke, especially when one is weak and carrying dead weight, which he would have been even if healed.
She accepted, and in a move so similar to his old mentor, he went to the astral plane to say his goodbyes and encourage her.
'You're an ugly crier, so please don't cry for me,' he remembered saying at last when she started tearing up. 'It's a shame there's no snow in this dimension; I would have liked to see it for one last time.'
Having said those last words, he remembers closing his eyes and falling. Not in the falling-to-my-death sense, but more like being a feather and slowly descending.
So why, he thinks, as he forms a tight fist, is he alive?
He can feel the beginnings of a panic attack start to form. It chokes him, and he tries to take big, controlled gulps of air, but the rain makes it difficult to calm. He turns around and tries to sit, only managing to get into all fours as he coughs and heaves. He wants to scream, kick, and punch the Earth under him and let it know his anger and agony.
He wanted to rest.
It is not excessive, is it? And he thinks that after many years of saving the planet and the Multiverse, being Fate and other higher beings' errand boy, it should be enough to ask for some rest.
He lets out a silent shout, nothing more than a heave, as he tries to control himself. He doesn't know how long he stays like that, trying and failing to breathe. He tries to meditate, but he cannot relax his mental state. He immediately notices the difference when he concentrates on the universal energies around him.
This is not his Universe.
The information is so sudden and unexpected that he cannot deal with it for one second; his senses subconsciously spread his senses, noticing the lack of technology's buzz. There's no cluster of multiple signals and electromagnetic rays that there was in his home planet, letting him know that while this planet is advanced, it is not as futuristic as his own. There's no pre-made anchor for the places he likes to visit: friends' houses, graves, favorite food spots, and the like. He can feel the strength of the Sanctums but not the overwhelming familiarity that it gives him.
He cannot feel any familiarity around him, and it makes his mind go blank for one long second. He doesn't want to think or consider the new responsibilities he will have, so his hysterical mind thinks it wise to shapeshift into the most familiar animal he knows.
He turns into a cat and releases his new animal instincts to overpower his rational mind. At that moment, he's not Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but a simple wet cat that only thinks about how to escape the water. There's enough of his mind to think of the places he can use as shelters, but there's a numbness to his feelings and thoughts as if there's a layer in between them, a layer that he can thicken or make disappear altogether.
It's like a choice between being the one driving and in total control, sitting copilot and being able to give a couple of suggestions, or going to the backseat and just enjoying the journey.
He chooses the last one, and like astral projection, he gives control of his body to his cat instincts.
It's one of the few choices he can and wants to make.
.
.
When he next comes to, it's no longer raining, and he's inside a small hole. He's not entirely under the cat's mind's influence anymore, but there's a certain numbness to his feelings and thoughts. He knows what happened and why he reacted the way he's done, but he can ignore it or at least process it without weighing on his mind.
Letting out a gusty sigh, he stretches. He's deciding between going out and looking for some food or staying inside and using some of his magic to feed himself when he sees someone passing in front of his hiding spot. They stop when he's about to lose sight of them and then return. He knows who they are. That shade of yellow robes is hard to ignore.
She stops in front of him and kneels, ignoring the muddy floor under her. His heart aches when they lock gazes. She looks the same as in his Universe, but her eyes have more prominent tiredness. He doesn't know what she sees when looking at him. He's not a typical cat, but does she know who he is? Is there a Stephen Strange already learning the Mystic arts? He doesn't know. He's just arrived in this world and hasn't had any time to look around, not that he wants to either; just thinking about it makes him feel tired.
"May I carry you?" she asks after looking at each other for who knows how long. He nods as he moves towards her. Her hold is gentle as she sits on the ground and puts him on her lap. She caresses his back with care as if afraid he will break. He looks up at her when she stops, realizing she's looking at his front paws, still carrying the injuries from his human self.
Smiling at him, she continues to caress him. This time, her gaze is distant as she talks. "You are tired."
He snorts as he side-eyes her, his gaze accusing her. She looks as tired as him, after all.
An upturn of her lips lasts a couple of seconds before she sighs and looks to the side. "The Stephen of this universe is dead." She runs a hand through his ears when they stand up to attention; he has no time to process her words before she continues, "He was in a car accident."
He looks up at her, sensing there's more to it by the worried frown between her brows. It seems difficult for her to say, but after a couple of long seconds of staring at him, she smiles, nostalgia thick on her expression. "I always knew you were going to be my successor. I knew you weren't going to have a long time to get used to the position because of my death, so I did what a couple of my other selves had done. I prepared the others for your ascension."
He knows that. In his Universe, he's read several of the Ancient One's journals she's left to prepare him for the position. It had been helpful for the first years before he got used to the title.
He tilts his head to her palm when she stops talking and caressing him. Her gaze is filled with grief as she shakes her head. "You must know I've formed a pact with the dark dimension, but you probably don't know why."
He doesn't know, that's true. The Ancient One did not mention it in any of her journals.
"Dormmamu knew even then that I was too powerful for him to influence. However, he didn't want to do so; he just wanted revenge after the many defeats he's had under my hands. He knew I was searching for ways to prolong my life as the Time Stone hadn't chosen me as its guardian as it had chosen you. He offered to increase my lifespan… The only way for me to die would be under the hands of a beloved student."
His gaze grows wider as he looks at her, at the shame evident in her eyes. "When I knew my successor—you—would soon come, I saw my death was coming, too. I wrote journals as I knew I couldn't guide you personally. Perhaps I've been too aloof with the others or too attached to you because of what you meant for me. However, when I announced to the other masters that soon my successor would come…" She shakes her head. "Maybe I was too fond when talking about you, too emotional, which is so unlike what others know of me."
A small chuckle. "Look at me, rambling. I don't think you want to know about that. The important part is that one of my disciples grew jealous of you; he used your accident to kill you."