Time moved like molasses as Strange walked around the hospital room. Christine hovered over Riley's chest, defibrillator paddles charged and ready. Riley looked calm, laying in the bed. The heart monitor was flat, no heartbeat to push an annoying beep into the air.

The other nurses stared at Riley with a mixture of sadness and resignation. Her condition wasn't really a surprise, anyway. Strange moved to the foot of the bed, squeezing past a nurse. He held up his hands, the familiar green power of the Eye once again winding it's way up his arm. Strange gave a sigh of relief as he held up his palm towards Riley.

Everything was going to be okay.

The circle of green magic in front of his palm flickered slightly as he pointed it at Riley. A frown settled over him as the magic faded in and out. He looked down at the Eye, which still glowed brightly. He ignored the flickering magic and continued, moving his right hand counter-clockwise.

A wall of glass-looking magic descended between Strange and Riley. A thousand different timelines flickered across the cracked glass, looping and showing a thousand different outcomes. Some where happy, others weren't.

"No," he whispered.

Strange's hands went slack as he realized what this meant. The time stream was too weak around her to use the Eye again. Doing so could splinter time into a thousand, until every one of the realities in front of him played out.

The green magic on his hand faded before flickering out completely. Time sped up again, and the nurses were too busy trying to save Riley's life to notice the new person in the room. Strange stumbled backwards into the wall, leaning heavily against it as he watched Christine work.

He couldn't help Riley. Magic couldn't save her now. There was nothing to do for him other than wait.

Christine pushed the paddles down on Riley's chest, charging them. Strange flinched as he saw Riley's body arch. A low beep sounded from the heart monitor. "We've got rhythm!" Christine yelled.

She looked up from Riley, catching her eyes on Strange's battered form.

Christine rushed towards him, "How-- never mind. We've got to get her into surgery, right now. Unless you have a stranger way of saving her?"

Strange just shook his head, "I'm out of ideas."

Christine turned to the other nurses, who still crowded around Riley. "Take her to operating room one," she ordered them. They all nodded, wheeling Riley's bed down the hallway to the sterile room.

"Do you want to--" Christine trailed off, her gaze catching on Strange's hands, which shook noticeably.

"I can't, Christine. Even if I could control this," he raised his hands, watching them tremble, "I couldn't. Not on her."

"Who do you want me to call?" Christine asked. If Riley was to be operated on by someone other than Strange, he could at least pick the person.

"Doctor Nico," Strange muttered. The name tasted ashen in his mouth, but he was Riley's best chance right now.

Christine nodded, turning and leaving to find Doctor Nico. Time was a luxury they couldn't afford. Strange followed her out to the operating room where Riley was. Christine turned to him, "I don't want you in here."

Strange looked at her with a frown, "Why shouldn't I be?"

Christine glanced down at the floor, "I don't want you in here if it goes south."

Looking behind her, Strange swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Fine. Just make sure--" he paused, scared to finish his sentence.

Christine caught his eye and smiled grimly. "We'll do our best."

<>

"We'll do our best."

How many times had he heard that phrase in his work? Far too many to count.

It's what you told the sobbing mother, the pacing lover, the concerned child. It was the mantra of surgeons everywhere. Strange sat with his head in his hands. Even being a few feet away in the waiting room was too much for him.

He had done the right thing, hadn't he? There was no way he could operate with his hands in the condition they were in; let alone on Riley. Even the thought of a scalpel coming close to her made his stomach churn.

Strange looked up at the clock on the wall with tired eyes. It had been upwards of three hours since she had went into surgery. It wasn't a good way to be starting a new year. He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, tuning out the sounds of the busy hospital around him.

Another hour crawled by.

Strange knew these things took time. He had done his fair share of six to eight hour surgeries himself. He had never thought of what it was like to be the ones waiting just outside the door. It was six o'clock in the morning now and the sun peeked out sleepily from the horizon. The snow that had accumulated the night before shone pink and orange in the rays of early morning light.

Strange made himself a cup of coffee, but his hands were shaking so bad he spilled half of it before throwing it away. He paced up and down the hallway, dodging nurses and doctors he had once worked beside.

A few of them gave him second looks, bloody and pacing nervously in sanctum clothes. He didn't pay them any mind. His attention was deep within the room just feet away from him. The door to operating room one opened, and Strange rushed forward. Christine walked out, looking tired and beat down.

For once, Strange couldn't read her face.

Christine looked up into his pleading blue eyes. "She's alive," she whispered.

A sigh of relief escaped from Strange. His knees felt weak and he had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. "How is she?" he asked.

"Not good. The next couple of days are crucial. We're putting her back into the ICU for now," Christine rubbed her temple. It had been a long five hours for her too.

Strange pursed his lips. "Can I see her?"

Christine nodded slowly, gesturing down the hallway, "Room 26."

Strange walked down the hallway slowly. His feet drug a little, scared of what he'd find in her room. The room had a window looking in to it, and his throat tightened as he saw her. She looked impossibly small on the bed. Pale and drawn but alive. The right side of her head was shaved, making her look oddly uneven.

The sterile white bandage over her wound didn't fool Strange. He knew exactly what the jagged red wound looked like. He pushed the door open, walking forward to her. Her heart beat steadily, if not a bit slow. She had an oxygen mask on. Strange reached forward and held her hand. It was cold and small in his palm.

The door opened behind him and Christine walked in. "She's in shock. We have her in a medically induced coma right now, but we don't know if she'll wake up when we take her off of it."

Strange frowned, "She'll wake up."

"It was a hard surgery," Christine warned.

Strange just looked at Riley with glassy eyes. "She has to."