THE CURIOUS CASE OF DR STRANGE
.

"Lightning round, best of three, Mamita versus Auntie!" Jacob yelled, and Sadie readied herself for the challenge. "Ready? First up: Australian!"

"Ah, this one's easy since I've watched a lot of Australian TV," Sadie grinned, in her best attempt at an Australian accent.

"German!"

"Funny you say that, Frau Moore," Adrianne cut in, her voice in a caricature accent. "I've been watching a lot of war films."

"That explains the terrible job you've done, Mom," Sophia laughed, and her mother shushed her playfully.

"It's all riding on this one," Jacob shouted, much more concerned with keeping the game going. "Daddy, drumroll, please!"

Jamie Valentina complied instantly, his hands drumming against the back of the guitar he grabbed from the corner of the room. Sadie didn't mention he could have just drummed on the table- she was far too invested in winning this next round.

"Are you ready?" Jacob giggled, holding the card tight to his chest. The group nodded eagerly. "Are you sure?"

"Mijo, don't drag it out-"

"-Jamaican!"

Sadie couldn't help her loud chuckle as she cut in, Adrianne still in the midst of chastising her son. "Oh, me dead wid laugh," she said, in her best Caribbean accent. "You do that on purpose? Want your Auntie to win?"

"You sound just like Tía Abuela!" Sophie giggled, and Sadie felt Adrianne tense beside her, and there was a sharp pain in her heart but she didn't let it show.

"I do?" Sadie laughed, and the two kids agreed. She didn't know why she felt a swell of pride at that. "Well, we all know that I am the master of impressions in this house."

Adrianne scoffed loudly at that, shifting where they sat on the floor. "You're not as good as me."

"You're not as good as me," Sadie repeated, with a raised eyebrow, satisfied at the children's gasps. "Years of practise!"

"Okay, that was freakishly good," Jamie piped up, from his chair. "I'm scared."

Adrianne shot him playful daggers, and lunged forward to attack her husband with tickles, pulling him to the ground with her- but it was a well known fact Jamie wasn't ticklish, so he only littered his wife with quick, innocent kisses in response.

Sadie tried not to let it hurt to see it.

"Gross," she said, playfully, placing Sophia's left hand over her brother's eyes, her own hand over Sophia's and finally her right hand over her own, so the three were a chain of covered eyes.

"Listen," Jamie said, and Sadie dared to peek at the couple as they separated. "Love is a good thing in our home!"

Sophia's teasing was drowned out by a repetitive chiming of Sadie's phone ringing, and she was surprised to see the number of her worker's union- her stomach dropping as she stood, rushing into the kitchen to answer.

Aceso's house arrest had been decided months ago, yes; Doctor Moore's license was still in the air. She didn't expect good news. But she didn't expect this, either.

"The good news is that you haven't been stricken off the register," her lawyer said, his voice tired. "A suspension does not mean you can never practise again-"

"It only means I can't practise for three years," Sadie said, bluntly. She wasn't shocked, not even upset- she hadn't expected to ever be a doctor again, anyway. Who would hire a felon?

"Yes," her lawyer sighed. "But with the ten months left of your house arrest, it'll really feel like two. One and a half, if you take the option of entry level voluntary work in the last six months."

"Entry level?" Sadie repeated, frustration rising in her. "Have they taken a look at my bibliography? My journals and research? My stand out cases? Does that all look entry level to them?"

"You will have your career back, Dr Moore," he sighed. "But you're on thin ice. When your sentence finishes, you have to turn up to parole or you'll be stricken off and lose your license. That means you have to stay in New York."

"Where else would I go?" Sadie asked, innocently. "Thank you for all your hard work. Send me the documents via email, please?"

"Absolutely," her lawyer said, and the line clicked off.

"What's the verdict?" Adrianne asked, closing the door to the living room as she joined her in the kitchen.

"Suspension," Sadie shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I think the entire medical community has forgotten I exist already."

"Not true," Adrianne tutted, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, very true," Sadie said, pouring a cup of coffee from the steaming pot. "I haven't heard from my colleagues from Stark for obvious reasons. Nobody wants to hang out with their felon ex-boss."

"That sounds like a relationship to nurture, honestly," her best friend teased, taking the coffee Sadie offered her.

"I haven't even heard from Strange," Sadie added, sipping her own drink. Usually she sweetened it, added foamed milk. Now, she couldn't be bothered. "Asshole."

"You haven't heard from Strange?" Adrianne asked,

"No... What's that look?"

"I thought he might have reached out to you after everything, you know," Adrianne said, casually. "Asked if you could help him? I thought you might still be struggling with your hands-"

"Why would he need my hands?" Sadie asked, her heart racing as she set down her cup.

"You really haven't heard?"

"The one time I actually need you to be a blabber mouth!" Sadie exclaimed, and she wondered distantly if she still sounded like her mother, even without the accent. "Spit it out!"

"Strange was in a car accident," Adrianne said gravely. "I took hours to get to him, his hands were crushed. He can't cut anymore."

"Oh my God," Sadie breathed, shocked, as she tapped her fingers across her phone screen, scrolling past numbers in her inbox. "When was this?"

"About a month ago now, coming up to two," Adrianne responded. "Metro General did their best for him but..."

SADIE
Hi, Stephen. I just heard about what happened, I hope you're okay. Can I call you?

"Apparently he's had, like, twenty procedures already," Adrianne continued.

"Why didn't he come to me?" Sadie frowned, waiting for a response to her text.

Read 7:09 PM

"Maybe it's a good thing he didn't," Adrianne said, softly. "You haven't lit up your hands in... how long now?"

"Because I never had to," she answered, nonchalantly.

Truth was, she'd been scared to try after she failed when her mother died. It had been far too easy for her to neglect her mimicry during her house arrest.

What made her more afraid was that she truly did believe that her abilities mimicked her, too. When she nurtured them, they nurtured her, so she had been scared that since she'd neglected them, they would neglect her in turn.

Still, she had to break the cycle somehow.

Sadie watched the typing bubble appear besides Stephen's icon (no picture, no matter how hard she'd tried to snap one at the New Year's party, it was still the default 'S').

Then the bubble disappeared, and didn't reappear.

SADIE
I'll take that as a yes.

Sadie left the kitchen without another word, insisting to the kids that she'd be right back as she hurried to the guest room, the line ringing out in her ear. She was sure it would go to voicemail when the ringing finally stopped, and Stephen Strange's raspy voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"Doc... Doctor Stephen Strange speaking."

His voice carried none of the usual bravado Sadie would expect from the announcement. So different from the last time they spoke.

"It's Sadie," she said hesitantly, listening to his sigh. "You know it's me, you saw my message."

"Oh, Isadora, sorry I... I tried to reply," Stephen said, tiredly. "I couldn't... I couldn't type."

"Oh," Sadie said, unsure of how to respond. It probably took a lot for him to admit that to her. So, so different from the last time they spoke. "Is there anyone to help you?" 

"There was Christine," he said, his voice trailing off. "She left yesterday."

She could read between the lines. There was nobody.

Sadie sat down, glanced down at the tag on her ankle, never more angry with it than now as she twisted the thick plastic. She wished it would just release- click open like it had clicked shut, leave her be, stop weighing down the skin beneath.

"Is there anything you need?" Sadie asked. She was rewarded with silence. "You got food in your pantry?"

"I ordered in," Stephen answered. "Chinese. It tastes like crap, but I ate it."

Her right hand was glowing against her ankle tag now, faint and quiet, and nothing like the light she knew, but it was there. She hadn't turned it on.

Then with a click, the tag released like a key had been turned in it as it dropped to the ground with a thunk. Sadie swallowed her surprise, running her hand over the lighter band of cold skin, slightly raw now from the tag.

She waited, expected an alarm. She heard nothing. The small lights on the machine were still on- green, not flashing red. She was in the clear.

Perhaps her mimicry did still want to nurture her, despite her neglect. It was a thing of its own mind.

"You don't need to worry, and you don't need to call," Stephen huffed. "I can recover on my own, I don't need anyone."

Sadie sighed, flexing her ankle to ease the tension. Glanced out of the window to the darkening street below.

What harm would it do? Who would even know she was gone? She was already suspended from the Board, what else did she have to lose?

Twenty years in prison, a small voice nagged at her, but she pushed it away. Who would she be, how could she call herself Aceso if she let this man suffer alone?

"Stephen, I'll be right there."

~

Sadie was drenched from the rain- she'd crept across the city as incognito as she could get, a pedestrian since her car wasn't available to her. She dressed in what she could snatch from Adrianne's wardrobe, all black with the added bonus of a turtleneck sweater and Steve's jacket that she lived in.

She felt stupid, sitting there on the subway in plainclothes and a baseball cap, especially when she'd teased Steve and Sam for it so many times.

At least she hadn't worn sunglasses- makeup was her disguise tonight, she wore it how she usually never did, dark eyeshadow changing her eyes completely, blusher swapped out for contour, red lip swapped for an ashy nude.

And it had rained, poured on her as she walked, but it still wasn't enough to calm her glowing hands which burned brighter now, bordering on uncomfortable. She repressed the heat as best she could, wore leather gloves and shoved her hands in the pockets of Steve's jacket.

The effect wasn't the same as when Steve would hold her hands in that way he used to, on the occasion that her mimicry refused to dim.

She'd be so wound up after a mission that she couldn't stop it, sometimes- or her powers might have been dormant for a while, from choice, or injury, or grief. And as soon as Sadie let her abilities loose, it would return with a vengeance.

Regardless of the reason for her lack of control, he would never judge her, never scold her, he'd only hold her hands and breathe with her and... she wondered how he was, where he was.

Maybe after this work with Strange was done she could call Steve and tell him she was sick of missing him.

That the letters weren't cutting it and she wanted him to come and get her like he had in the Raft and she wouldn't say no to him, this time. She just wanted him back, her golden soldier, her gilded angel, her greatest love-

Sadie shook her head at the thought. She forgot how long walks made her introspective. She was relieved to reach her targeted building, tall, yet quiet, and she could put Steve out of her mind and focus on the task at hand.

A task! At hand! Sadie felt awful for her excitement- why was she so selfish? She regretted that Stephen was hurt, of course, but she didn't regret her offer to help him.

A thought occurred to her suddenly- there were many things adding to this giddy feeling in her stomach. The rush that came with breaking the rules- how competent she felt to do this on her own, making her way through the city using the parkour she'd mastered on so many missions before.

Climbing drain pipes and rooftops was overkill. This wasn't a mission, she knew it, but if this would be the one time Sadie would leave the house, she would have fun with it.

But above all that, what made her most excited was the prospect of helping someone. Of changing a life.

Stephen Strange's apartment had an odd grandeur to it.

Sadie could imagine it used to be quite the spectacle. It had all the potential- high ceilings, and large windows, and that sort of modern industrial look that was so trendy these days. Exposed brick against marble countertops.

She could picture it exactly to taste, what she thought Stephen would like. But she didn't suggest any of it. She could imagine all sorts of reasons why the place was bare, with the least amount of furniture necessary to live in a place- no, to exist in a place.

She wondered if he'd had to sell it all to afford the huge list of surgeries Adrianne had mentioned.

Stephen looked like hell. If she wasn't in his home, Sadie didn't think should would have recognised him at all, with his overgrown hair, and his unkempt clothes and how he looked like he hadn't washed in days. She didn't comment on that, either.

And from the look on his face as he takes in her own appearance, soaked in rainwater, and hands glowing through her gloves...

Sadie can't tell if he feels he's risked enough, or if he was still willing to risk it all.

"When was the last time you healed someone?" he asked, leading her over to the bare desk, where papers, reports, and scans lay. He drags his feet as he walks. "I want details."

Sadie thought back as she perused the papers before her. Stephen doesn't even have the lights on, so she guides her scanning with the light of her hands across the pages.

It looked bad. X-Rays and physio notes, and she wanted to take a look at his hands in person, but he kept them in his pockets. He wouldn't show her until she showed him why he should.

Sadie was careful not to run her mouth as she thought. The last serious case had been Rhody, and that hadn't worked out for anyone involved. She cast her mind to before that.

The mild nerve damage in her shoulder from her altercation with the Winter Soldier: a minute's work. Sam's cuts and bruises: routine. Bucky hadn't quite trusted her enough yet, so she hadn't touched him. And then there was Steve.

She was always healing Steve. All of it superficial- so the last real healing she'd done was as far back as Lagos, and even that had been more failure than success. Sadie couldn't even remember the last time she'd done it right.

Stephen seemed to be able to tell that.

"I'm not about to put my faith in someone who is out of practise," he said. "I've not been out of work for a long time now, but I know it's not the same. Especially when it's not a break you've chosen."

Sadie stayed quiet as she shuffled through surgical notes, her eyes flitting over the text as she kept a poker face, trying not to show her disapproval. This man had been butchering himself, and it didn't seem like he wanted to stop any time soon.

"You're having physical therapy?" she asked, quietly, her first words since arriving.

"Yes," Stephen answered, and she could hear him roll his eyes. "But the guy's the most incompetent man in the healthcare field. Telling me fairytales like I can't see through them."

"Look at the world we live in," Sadie shrugged. "I know for a fact I wouldn't have believed any of this would happen to me if you'd told me it all six years ago."

"Well, not everyone is a special case," he answered. "I'll fix this with science, not magic."

"Stephen, if you continue with all these procedures- you know the odds," Sadie said, gently. "Infection, complication, gangrene-"

"Those are all the same thing," he pointed out, casually.

"Point is," she sighed. "It'll get worse and it may not get better. Let me help."

"Where did it come from?" Stephen asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"The mimicry."

"It's hereditary," Sadie said. "I was able to track it down to a particular gene that... shifts its material." she cracked a smile. "That was using G.E.M.I.N.I, so you know it's reliable."

"Hereditary?" Stephen echoed. "Did Shan...?"

"No," she said, simply. "My father's side. But I'm much more skilled than he is- I've honed it over the years."

"How does it work?" he pushed, and Sadie remained patient with him as she explained. It was clear he was nervous- used to knowing it all, and this was uncharted territory.

"Most of the time I can reverse all damage by visualising it," she finished. "You won't feel any pain-"

"Most of the time?" he repeated. "What like- like a drug? Ninety percent chance of success, ten percent chance my arms will fall off?"

"That's not how it works-"

"Here," Stephen said, finally taking his hands out of his pocket to rapidly gather all the papers and scans and dump them in her arms. "Go over these. Make ninety percent into a hundred. Then you call me. Then we do this."

"You want me to study?" Sadie asked, slightly frustrated- she could fix this, right now!

"I want you to study," Stephen confirmed, not dropping his gaze and behind the harshness of his eyes there was desperation.

Sadie glanced at his exposed hands on the stack of papers- red angry scars across them, tremors visible to the eye. He pulled his hands away, hiding them again.

"Will you do it?" he asked, and she pushed away her frustration that she came all this way, risked so much, only to be given homework.

But she understood it, understood his fears were pushed by the many failed attempts to heal. So, she nodded.

"Okay. I'll study."

~

Three days later, Sadie was back in the Valentina home, having returned the tag to her ankle without any problems. She'd deal with the implications of her removal at a later date- now, she had to focus.

After memorising and reciting surgical notes and drawing diagrams from memory down to each individual nerve that had been severed- and after being quizzed again and again by Stephen Strange- Sadie thought she was making a breakthrough.

Not a breakthrough in her understanding of the case- she'd understood it all in the first twenty minutes. No, she'd made in breakthrough in getting Stephen to trust her, to understand that she was just as much of a genius as he was- even if she didn't announce it to the world.

"You're sure I don't need anything?" Stephen asked, nervously, his palms against the glass of the table where Sadie sat opposite.

Sadie had picked a time when the kids would be in school, and the Valentinas would be in work for Strange's appointment. Sadie needed privacy, she needed quiet, she needed to concentrate.

"You don't need anything, you just need to relax," Sadie replied, hovering her glowing hands over his scarred ones. "Okay, I'm going to start."

"Talk me through it," he said, urgently and she nodded, shushing him gently.

Sadie's power was like a weight in her hands, a magnet to metal as it pulled her muscle toward the damage. Stephen's worried speech halted as soon as the light reached him, and she tried hard not to wince.

It was one thing to read about the damage theoretically, it was another to feel it. Like how broken glass might glisten if you look at it, but you never understand the sharpness until it's to the touch.

"I'm beginning at your fingertips." Sadie closed her eyes, shook off her shoulders as she settled into her healing.  "Palmar digital nerves to begin with. Distal... Middle... Proximal. How's it feel?"

Stephen's eyes were wet. "Like I might be able to hold a scalpel when this is done."

"Okay," she replied, focusing on his hands again, imagining the nerves in his fingers mending together.

This part wasn't a problem, a simple fix, really. But the root of all movement was the palm, and the two of them knew it. The real stickler would be the median nerve- most responsible for grasping, writing, cutting.

"Moving on," Sadie announced, and Stephen spoke up again.

"Median?" he suggested, and she tried not to roll her eyes.

"Communicating branch of the ulnar nerve," she corrected. "We're going slow."

"You can't go slow on the big one, first?" he asked. "Rip off the band-aid?"

"Not yet," Sadie said frowning as she met an area of resistance.

She closed her eyes, visualised the point in the nerve where the problem lay, and tried to visualise her blue light washing over it. But the blue was met with a contrasting orange- lines of light in geometric shape, a barrier.

"Not yet..."

Sadie was shocked out of her wits then, whipping her head around the room to identify the voice, but there was nobody but herself and Stephen.

"Not yet..."

A woman's voice, soft and gentle, an accent... English. Sadie closed her eyes again, pushed her power against the force of the orange light and it buckled, fading away in response to the assault from her mimicry, and she returned to healing.

"What just happened?" Strange said, his voice worried.

"Did you hear it?" Sadie asked, breathlessly. The look on his face told her he did not. "I mean... did you feel it? That knot in the nerve."

"No," he answered. "But this is... amazing."

"Alright," Sadie grinned. "Onto the big one."

"And after that?"

"A general sweep to brush up any rough edges," she answered. "And you're good. So. Recurrent branch of the median nerve..."

"Not yet."

The voice was louder now, than earlier, shouting in her ear, but she shut it out. Sadie screwed her eyes shut- there was another wall of orange light, but this time it was stronger, layered.

Sadie let her power explore it, tried to see if it could be unravelled, see if she could work with it... whatever this is.

"This man is suffering," Sadie thought, but she didn't know if the source of the voice could hear her. "Let me help."

"Not yet!"

She let her hands glow brighter, pushed the full force of her power against the barrier and God- it was a strain, a physical strain more prominent than any healing she'd done before.

Sadie opened her eyes, the image of the barrier still in her mind as the light of her mimicry travelled up her arms, reaching her neck now- swallowing her. No... it wasn't in her mind- it was there- she could see it! She was standing now.

The orange light broke out into millions of shards, slicing through all of the work she had done, re-severing nerves, rebreaking bridges. Sadie heard Stephen shout out in pain as glass shattered.

"No!" Sadie exclaimed, grasping his hands as he pulled away from her. "No, that wasn't me!"

"Let go!" he yelled, pushing her away with his shoulder, keeping his hands close to his chest. His cheeks were wet now as Sadie reached out to him.

"I can fix it," she pleaded. "Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt! You fixed one thing at least! I don't feel a thing," Stephen screamed. His hands were shaking more severely than before. "Of all the things you could have done, you've made it worse!"

"That wasn't me," Sadie tried again. "You didn't see any of that? You didn't hear any of that?"

"I should never have come here," Stephen said, as Sadie followed him into the hall. The door was still unlocked from his arrival. "I should never have put my faith in the likes of you."

"The likes of me?" she asked, tried to hide any hurt in her face.

"I don't think you want to push me to say it," he spat.

Sadie's mind was spinning. What the hell had happened? And what the hell could she do about it?

"What do you have to say, Stephen?"

"Here's my impression of you, Doctor Moore," he said, all too quickly. "You lack ability."

"What?"

"You lack ability to self correct," he said, harshly. "You want to know my second impression of you?"

"Stephen, I-"

"You lack the ability to see beyond the immediate," he carried on, fury in his eyes. "You do everything for selfish reasons. You can see past the now, sure! You can see how healing this charity case of Dr Strange will make a difference, but the real reason you do it is so you can have the reassurance you're not getting anywhere else!"

Sadie was furious now, her blood boiling in her veins, but still she had no words- just stood there staring like an incompetent child being chastised by a cold faced teacher.

"And it comes full circle," he continued, relentlessly. "Right back to your inability to self correct. You need reassurance, so you latch onto those who are strong, or rich, or talented so you can fool yourself that you're in their company because you're just like them. When the reality is that you only became like them by- well, by doing what you do!"

"Which is what?

"Mimicking!"

"Wow, Strange, I didn't realise you had a degree in psychoanalytic pseudoscience, too-"

"Your abilities aren't about genetics, or your father, or even spirituality," Strange spat. "It's a manifestation of what you do- you mimic, Isadora. It's all you ever have done, and it's all you ever will, and that's why I was a fool to put my faith in you."

"Let me try again!"

"I won't!"

"Why?" Sadie asked, bitterly. "I can self correct-"

"Trying again doesn't always mean correction," Strange said, and he suddenly looked a lot more tired than before his spiel.

An icy silence fell between the two of them, as Sadie's heart kept its already broken strings intact, for just a moment. She took a breath, let Strange do the same.

He only stared at his hands, palms up at waist level, scarred and bruised and shaking. And she saw more hate in how he looked at his hands than how he'd been looking at her.

"Do you feel better?" Sadie said, eventually. "Must feel good to get it off your chest. To be able to criticise someone else instead of yourself."

"Don't psychoanalyse me," Stephen said, quietly. "You're not qualified."

"And you're a hypocrite," she countered, stepping forward to where he stood, his hands still outstretched. She opened up her palms, too, let her hands rest in mid air beside his, let her blue light glow.

"What are you doing?" he asked, staring at her with watery eyes. "You can't fix this. We've seen that."

"I know," Sadie sighed. "I'm trying to show you... We both have hands that we rely on for our callings. Hands that have failed us both now. You can't cut, and I can't heal."

Sadie took his hands in hers then, felt the tremors that were somehow worse than when they started. He shut his eyes, tight, and Sadie recognised the gesture. It was just what she did whenever she was too ashamed to cry.

"But you are more than your hands, Stephen," she said. "You're more than surgery."

"You sound like Christine," he said.

"Maybe that's because she's right," Sadie tried, gently.

Strange pulled his hands away quickly, turning away from her as he picked up his file with shaking hands.

"Stephen," Sadie said again, as he started to walk away. "Stephen, I hope you think hard about any future procedures. About your next move."

"I've thought long and hard about my 'next move'," Strange argued, reaching the front door quicker than Sadie could catch up with. "And I've decided that I am my hands. I am surgery. And I'll get them back. It doesn't matter if it's a fairytale.

. . .

. .

.

wow, chapter 40 already... we still have so much more to go in this story lmao and the word count is getting ridiculous so thanks for sticking with it!

also sorry if this story arc has been a let down for you. I thought it wouldn't make sense for Sadie to not be involved with the events of Dr Strange, but also she absolutely can't fix all his problems. Like even now, she's failed, but she's still gonna be trying to look out for him because that's what heroes do!!!

(I've also had a few comments asking about what's going on with Rhody- that's all wrapped up as Tony told Sadie in the Raft that she helped stop the progression of the injury but he's still not 100% okay. Sorry if this is also a let down for y'all, but I was not about to erase a character's disability 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️)

But yeah, it's literally just failure after failure when it comes to Sadie's healing and career as a doctor but it's all there for growth guys!! also she can remove her ASBO now- let's see where that takes us!

let me know what you thought of this chapter!

-Amber.