Chapter Text
The whole thing felt completely absurd. It was as if someone had quietly removed the boundary between sleep and reality.
Just when Loki thought the situation had passed its worst point and his health was beginning to gradually but surely improve, Strange appeared, throwing everything into disarray. Loki was genuinely eager to immediately agree to the request for help: he liked feeling valued and important, liked having his opinion taken into account without suspicion or attempts to catch him out. It was simply flattering. It gave him a feeling of true freedom. Besides, he was troubled and intrigued by what was happening in the Temple.
There were only two, so to speak, insignificant facts that got in the way: his still-unstable magic, without which he sincerely believed there was nothing to do in the Temple, without taking into account the impossibility of getting there; and the sense of impending, monumental problems in New Asgard. The latter needed to be dealt with urgently, but the first point was getting in the way.
So Loki, adopting as cold and indifferent an appearance as possible, despite feeling silently terribly sorry, sent Strange off to solve the problem on his own. However, there remained hope that the mages wouldn't have time to do anything irreversible, and that luck would suddenly strike, and, killing two birds with one stone, he could arrive at their moment of despair. Loki himself didn't expect to get out of here for another day or two, despite the urgency. Not only because of his condition, but also because by all indications, the weather promised something grandiose soon. He really didn't want to be stuck somewhere else, either wet, freezing, or both.
But Strange returned... Almost repeating the scene that had unfolded in this very spot a couple of days earlier. At that moment, it became clear that everything that was happening was far more than just a coincidence. The pattern of events connected too seamlessly... And Loki knew only one force capable of such a thing. Still not fully believing this theory, he endured until the last, checking and rechecking every detail he knew before coming to Strange. Feeling himself getting worse the longer he delayed, he rushed to reach an agreement, hoping it would help protect him from the punishment that followed those who resisted the direct will of the Norns.
But Strange turned everything on its head, never voicing his agreement and steering the conversation in a completely inappropriate direction. No matter what, Loki couldn't allow anyone to gall him with his own weaknesses. Stubbornly refusing to admit that Strange was also largely right would have been foolish.
Having pacing in his room like a wild beast, consumed by conflicting emotions, until the nightfall, Loki finally decided on a second attempt. No other solution had occurred to him, his mind already clouded by fatigue. And simply letting go was dangerous. Almost resigned to the inevitable, Loki actually tried to trust, but ultimately found himself in a new impasse. What Strange had said was… was as absurd as Frau Eder's suggestion. But his near-complete certainty, the arguments he had presented, his willingness to prove it… all of this significantly undermined the firmness of Loki's previous convictions.
When Loki realized the implication of that last question, it was as if he'd been doused with ice: ten days ago, and a week ago, he'd still been in New Asgard! Forgetting that he'd just been ready to die from both shame and growing weakness, he flew up the stairs, rushing for the phone, which had proven so convenient and therefore become so commonplace among Asgardians in recent years. A single question chilled him to the bone: why had no one been looking for him all this time? Why?!
Several empty calls. A pause. Several more unsuccessful attempts.
Loki was shaking with tense, anxious anticipation.
Not a single call was answered. Yes, this phone number was his secret. Yes, none of the Asgardians knew the number. But... Someone simply had to answer! At least hang up! Or scold the unknown intruder for calling so late. Especially since few people could call them. Loki stopped wasting time.
Almost tumbling down the stairs, he rushed out into the street, just as he was, almost immediately finding himself in the deep snow, and, heedless of the risk of being overheard by anyone else, he screamed for Heimdall. And again. And again.
But there was no answer.
***
Stefan was quite puzzled by such a sudden reaction to a seemingly simple question, but he decided it was best to give Loki time to process the situation. It was impossible to alert local authorities to the risk of an epidemic outbreak in the middle of the night, and it was worth carefully considering how to do so in the least painful way possible.
He deliberately overstated the timeframe for possible contacts, ignoring the new specifics of the virus and trying to cover as wide a timeframe as possible. It was still necessary to determine for sure where the virus originated, but it was fairly easy to guess.
He had no doubts about his own immunity: as a doctor, he was required to strictly adhere to the vaccination schedule, and fortunately, the current one was still within its expiration date. Although, of course, there was always the chance of a fail. Frau Eder was a concern, but there was no point in waking her now – that issue, too, could wait until morning. He also needed to warn Wong and the others. Automatically tidying table, washing his hands, and mentally running through possible scenarios, Strange's gloom grew, but he never gave up hope that everything would turn out better than he imagined. Otherwise, everything would be too…
Hearing Loki shot out into the street, he hurried after him, calling out to no avail.
The scream that rang out sounded more like a roar of despair than a call.
"They're not answering!" Loki turned, confused and even frightened, to Stefan as he approached. His voice had become noticeably unstable, promising to fade soon, and his gaze had grown glassy. "No one's answering!"
"Who's not answering?" Strange quickly got his bearings and tried to speak as calmly and slowly as possible. The answer was obvious, but he urgently needed to keep the conversation going and bring Loki out of his panic. The question wasn't very good. Unfortunately, crisis psychology wasn't his strong suit.
"No one! None of them are answering!" Not that Loki was going to help... "Well, it's nighttime now, I guess they're just sleeping. We'll wait until morning and find out."
Instead of answering, Loki turned towards the gate and slowly walked through the deep snow.
Here, Strange himself made another significant mistake, forgetting who he was dealing with. He caught up with Loki and, fearing he'd simply vanish without listening, tried to stop him by grabbing his shoulder. For this, he was instantly lifted off the ground by his collar. Fighting against his iron grip proved futile – Loki still significantly outstripped most humans in strength, even in his weakened state.
Stefan wanted to listen to the voice of reason, but he could only squeeze out a half-strangled:
"Where are you..."
"I have to get to Asgard now... Don't interfere."
Loki didn't throw Strange away intentionally, but he let go so suddenly that he simply lost his footing. The still-unpacked snow instantly filled his mouth, nose, ears, collar, and sleeves, but Stefan, still struggling and trying to get up, stubbornly continued to follow him:
"This will make things worse for them all! You're dangerous now."
It worked. But not quite as Strange had hoped. Loki stopped, turned, and walked toward him, but now panic had given way to anger. His voice took on a timbre that seemed otherworldly, lending an even more ominous tone to his words.
"Wherever I go, whatever I touch, death always follows me!"
He loomed over Strange, deceptively relaxed keeping his hands in his trouser pockets. Despite his still disheveled and homely appearance, the rage blazing in his eyes instantly revealed his true nature. Stefan clearly recalled why Loki was considered a huge threat to Earth.
"Try to embrace your happiness at losing magic! It's always been nothing but problem."
He straightened up again, and the moment Strange could even get up to his feet, he pulled one hand out of his pocket, flicked his wrist lightly, and lifted it slightly upward. All the snow from the yard, along with the debris from the topsoil, rose into the air, hovering above them.
"Why do I need this if I've never actually been able to save anyone?! With it, I only kill and destroy."
The snow seemed to slowly burn in an emerald fire, immediately turning to steam. Loki's face was simultaneously lit by green flashes of magic and a beam of yellow electric light from behind the open door of the house, making his expression utterly wild. Strange couldn't have foreseen what would occur to him next. Loki advanced slowly, and Strange involuntarily backed away. "What's the point of all this if I'm going to be alone?!" He growled again, almost shouting the last words, and then suddenly stopped abruptly and stepped back, looking past Stefan. Checking was somehow stupid.
"I..." Loki continued speaking, but it was as if the sound had simply been smoothly muted. He tried again, just as unsuccessfully.
The green flame suddenly died down, and the remaining layer of snow, instead of evaporating without a trace, melted and poured down on them in an icy stream. Apparently, all this combined had finally managed to extinguish the flames of rage, and now only confusion remained.
Now, either Stefan would seize the opportunity and seize the initiative by any means necessary, or the situation would become completely unmanageable... He barely had time to fully comprehend the various courses of action and phrases flashing through his mind. Everything Loki was experiencing now, Strange had experienced – parts of it for the second and third time in his life – just a few days ago. The tearing guilt. The suffocating despair. And a whole spectrum of other destructive emotions. But he had found a life preserver, thanks to which he was able to swim to the surface and see a better perspective.
Did Loki have such a lifeline now? The obvious answer was "no"; he'd just now lost it.
The climb should have started small.
"Don't worry, your voice is gone temporarily. It's because you overstrained it, and because of the virus. If you can stay quiet for a while, your voice will come back in good shape. For people, it takes a few days. For you, it might take hours. So just be patient."
At least he got his attention. Very good.
Standing soaked in the cold was, to put it mildly, unpleasant, and Strange was slowly beginning to shiver. Loki, however, seemed oblivious to the cold, either due to his natural resilience or because his mind was too preoccupied with the situation to notice, but perhaps he was feeling hot for another reason. And the latter, while expected, was pretty bad, because it meant they didn't have the watch Stefan had promised.
"I didn't have time to describe the immediate future to you. So, if you continue stubbornly trying to leave now, you simply won't make it to your people before you're knocked off your feet." Yes, he was exaggerating, but not too much. "Even if you do, you won't be able to help them in your condition, magic or not. You'll probably just add to the risk of infecting those who are still holding on. I guarantee you're not the first to get sick, don't blame yourself. Think back, if there were any excursions groups to New Asgard or three weeks, maybe a month ago, in wich someone looked sick?"
Loki shook his head slightly. "I understand you're not particularly interested in observing people. But surely asgardian's children play with the local children one way or another. Was there any official notification about quarantine or anything like that?.." Judging by the way Loki's eyes widened, Strange had hit the nail on the head. "Then listen, I promise to do everything in my power to find out what's wrong with them as quickly as possible. If you promise to let me help you. And please, for God's sake! Let's go inside!" He barely finished the sentence, trying not to chatter his teeth too much, and extended his hand, shaking much more than usual.
And Loki accepted it.
***
No, as it turned out, Stefan hadn't exaggerated. He'd inadvertently understated. the hand extended in response seemed as hot as boiling water to the frozen Strange, confirmed his fears. Despite the recent and obviously completely debilitating emotional outburst, Loki steadfastly pretended that everything was fine until the staircase to the second floor loomed before him, which he eyed as if he were a mortal enemy. But with a barely audible sigh, he firmly and contemptuously rejected any support, confidently overcoming the obstacle.
Frau Eder, awakened by the noise and shouting and having witnessed almost the entire scene from the hallway, was apparently one of the reasons Loki lost his momentum and stopped. She stepped back, letting them both pass, and followed closely behind, clearly uneasy . Taking advantage of this, Stefan gave her the brief task of gathering all the remaining medicines in the house and taking them to the kitchen. He would deal with that later.
Loki, apparently, was trying to prove he is stronger than circumstances, and that Strange was underestimating him. He certainly had plenty of willpower, but his unfamiliarity with his own limits in this new environment let him down. He only lasted until he reached the threshold of the room, which was humanly enough – to relax, feeling the familiar safety.
It wasn't that he didn't continue to resist help, still trying to assert his independence. But now Strange was winning in strength.
Stefan barely managed to get Loki to bed before he completely lost touch with reality. The thermometer showed an unusual 40-something degrees, and they had to convert it back to a comfortable 104 degrees Fahrenheit, just like an hour earlier… Almost record-breaking speed. Strange was right when he assumed Loki would hardly make it to his people in time. The feeling of triumphant satisfaction from being right never came.
Being torn between several urgent matters at once was difficult, yet somehow familiar. Involuntarily, memories of the early years of his medical career surfaced in fragments. Now, buying time by combining actions, Strange organized his care as best he could. Finding a couple of minutes, he reviewed the entire collection of medications Frau Eder had collected. It was quite meager – one small, battered, incomplete box: a few tablets of various anti-inflammatory varieties, hypotensives, a sedative, vitamins, a selection of adhesive bandages, eye drops… And most of them had long since expired. Only the aspirin was fresh, and of that, only one tablet remained.
Also they had a compact tonometer, which frau Eder was forced to carry with her, and a thermometer he was already using, which was left upstairs.
It's deep night outside the window.
Snow-covered roads and highways.
A perfectly reasonable option would have been to grab my head.
***
A couple of hours later, sitting on a stool in front of the bed in a dark, cool room, with Loki whispering something inaudibly to someone, Strange once again felt like a powerless, green student or apprentice. He possessed a wealth of knowledge, but now he could apply almost none of it. At least, what he had used didn't work very well or for long. The intricacies of alien biology were unknown to him; he wasn't an infectious disease specialist. Perhaps he shouldn't have stopped Loki? He would have received more help from his own kind...
Or, on the contrary, it turned out to be better than if he had now found himself in an unknown place...
Stefan was once again weighing his meager options and the potential risks, seriously considering whether he should call the local air ambulance, ignoring the political scandal that would follow, when there was a quiet knock on the door.
Without answering, he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Frau Eder stood there, a steaming mug in her hands. She held it out to Strange, nodding toward the door. "What is this?" He lowered his voice, just in case, though he doubted it mattered much at the moment.
"Herbal tea. "
"It's useless now. Especially since it's hotter."
"Three days ago it was quite helpful."
He had to think: was it a questionable action or complete inaction.
"What's there?"
"Chamomile, St. John's wort, mint, linden, fenugreek, nutmeg. The herbs are a bit old, of course, I was going to throw them out when I left, but I don't have any other ones. And they've already passed the test."
None of this, as far as Strange knew from both official medicine and the information he'd gleaned from his training at Kamar-Taj, was expected to significantly reduce fever or combat the effects of the virus. Especially nutmeg...
“Why did you think that would help?” It wasn’t that Strange wanted to be offensive, he was just tired and concentrating more on the meaning than on the form.
Frau Eder pursed her lips slightly, but still answered quite patiently, although a little irritated:
"Because it already helped," she hesitated, "him, three days ago! All the other medications really didn't work."
"Where did you get the recipe?"
"From my own grandmother. Do you take it?"
It sounded downright strange and ridiculous, but Strange had encountered too many similar things in his life to dismiss the offer with scorn as before.
"At the very least, it would be advisable to cool it down. I'll go with you. Just a word."
When he briefly described the problem, trying not to be too alarming, Frau Eder responded completely calmly:
"I think I'll be fine. I had it as a child. I have a strong immune system."
"Are you sure it was measles? Not chickenpox or rubella?"
"Oh, believe me, I'm sure. Despite my age, I don't suffer from memory loss yet."
“It’s not…” Stefan didn’t have time to finish.
"I had a son. And I had a grandson," apparently not wanting to develop the topic further, Frau Eder said with deadly calm: "You know, maybe it's time you took care of yourself, Herr Doctor? I doubt I could handle two bedridden patients at once."
Strange didn't immediately understand what she meant. Noticing this, she explained, "You still haven't changed after getting soaked."
Oh, right...
Having sincerely thanked her for her concern, he nevertheless lingered a little longer, trying to find out whether the esteemed Frau Eder knew whether anyone else had come into contact with the sick man in the coming days.
From what she personally witnessed, it appeared that there was only one person in contact. Compared to Loki's own brief but rather coherent account, since their isolation in the temple he had not had time to encounter anyone except four people: Mordo, a certain man who had given him a ride, Frau Eder, and Strange himself.
It was impossible to determine whether this was actually true at this point. But it gave me hope.
Having asked Frau Eder to contact the driver, since she knew him well, Stefan finally drew attention to himself.
As Stefan unpacked his duffel bag for the first time since he'd packed it in New York, he discovered a package he'd clearly never put there. Unwrapping it, he realized with a mixture of gratitude and acrid regret why Christina, when she'd seen him off, had so persistently tried to send him away for trivial reasons, while remaining close to the bag.
All it contained was a modest supply of basic over-the-counter medications, a very basic stethoscope, some bandages, and the like – nothing that wouldn't have been passed through at any airport. But now, just the sight of them gave him extra energy.
He owes Christina more than once. For everything.
***
Stefan, distrustful of Frau Eder's unprofessional opinion, first tried several variations and dosages of usual remedies. Surprisingly, the "tea" actually worked significantly better than anything else.
Although this remedy was far from producing truly good results, it was nevertheless something.
When he asked offhandedly where the nutmeg came from in this otherwise more or less comprehensible set, an indefinite and succinct reply was given that there had been a reason for it, and further discussion on the subject was declined.
Very early in the morning, indistinguishable from night at this time of year, Frau Eder quietly ushered him out of the room, asking him to get at least a little sleep and promising to follow up and take care of everything. Her peremptory tone and manner reminded him of the head nurse he'd encountered back in his distant residency.
Considering that just recently she had somehow managed on her own, and the severity of the situation had subsided a little, Stefan, having given a few additional instructions, surprisingly obediently left.
But he didn't go to sleep at all. He found time to make calls... Wong never ceased to amaze Stefan. As soon as he realized what was going on, he immediately declared that he had a full set of vaccinations and a little extra – you never know where magical foresight will take you, even if you're just a librarian. Having promised to warn and organize the other mages, he listened to the next request. This one was a little more complicated, but still possible: try to find out the situation in New Asgard. Call as soon as there was news.
Making the second call proved much harder, but duty dictated warning local authorities of a possible outbreak. However, there were several "buts."
Even with perfect forged documents, the conclusion that the patient has only a very indirect connection to the human species will be reached very quickly. And even given the seemingly exponential growth in the number of various mutants, non-humans, and other creatures over the past decade, such a thorough investigation is bound to attract unwanted attention. This means there will be an investigation. And, inevitably, a political scandal, an arrest, and so on...
Passing off someone else as patient zero would be equally of little help if that hypothetical patient showed no signs of illness during testing. Abandoning the situation without activating the sanitary system, forcing it to exercise vigilance, was also inhumane.
Strange fiddled with the phone for a long moment, pondering what to do, and finally decided he'd have to resort to forgery, but by a different method. And for this, he'd need Frau Eder's help again. All that remained was to explain everything to her and put the plan into action.
Having finally left the phone alone, he resolutely stood up and headed to the second floor to carry out his plan.
***
Expecting only to take a nap for about an hour or an hour and a half, Stefan fell into a nightmare-filled sleep for over three hours and was awakened by the persistent buzzing of his phone.
Wong.
The news was scant and dismal: yes, something had happened in New Asgard, the borders were closed, journalists were making wild guesses, one more improbable than the other, but they were getting no confirmation. There were no other details.
There were no official announcements either. He lacked the connections to break through the veil. Even Strange himself wouldn't have had the connections. But he had already promised to do everything he could. There was only one more chance. And despite the likelihood of success approaching zero, Stefan had to take it.
Scrolling through his contact list, he unconsciously prayed for the right one to be there. Finally finding it and pressing call, his next request to the universe was for the number to be up-to-date.
This was going to be a difficult conversation. He had fallen out with what seemed to be his best friend back in his student days. They'd run into each other a few times at work since then, but never got beyond business. Strange had always hated apologizing and asking for favors, and had successfully avoided it at all costs his entire life. Lately, that was all he'd had to do.
"Yes, I'm listening."
***
The day had been quite eventful, beginning with Loki still trying to maintain a cheerful demeanor. Entering his room, Strange found him already dressed and, despite his obvious exhaustion, about to leave the room. They nearly collided in the doorway.
In response to Loki's immediate and demanding, though barely audible, direct question about the situation in New Asgard, Stefan had to shrug his shoulders, as he hadn't yet received any new information. He also didn't bother to explain that everything he knew was vague and unclear.
Judging by the somewhat uncharacteristic sloppiness of his clothing and the absence of another expected question, Loki hadn't yet looked in the mirror, eager to find Strange only for an answer that clearly disappointed him.
However, by distracting him from making dangerous decisions, Strange had the opportunity to confirm whether he had correctly identified all the contacts. Receiving a slow but affirmative answer, he relaxed slightly.
Strange considered it an undoubted achievement in the entire situation that, although not with much enthusiasm, his instructions were still being carried out quite accurately. At least, by the disciplined Frau Eder. At first, Loki had constantly tried to argue, despite the fact that neither his strength, nor his complete clarity of thought, nor his voice had yet returned. But after the threat that his voice might be lost forever, he simply began to glare at him with excessive indignation or to sabotage. He turned out to be a rather poor patient. Stefan had to admit that, at one time, in this situation, he had been almost as intolerable.
It was a rather wicked joy that Loki's magic was now practically completely inaccessible. It was hard to imagine what would have happened if he'd wielded even half as much as he used to... However, this also contributed to his foul mood.
He had to look at the situation from someone else's perspective and, after a couple of micro-lectures, try to explain everything that had been perfectly obvious to any ordinary person since early childhood. Finally, losing all patience, Strange couldn't take it anymore and handed Loki the handbook again, advising him to try to amuse himself with it, as anything else was contraindicated. Somewhere after midday, Loki's unhealthy enthusiasm faded completely, and the need to constantly prove himself subsided. Stefan and Frau Eder, despite some pangs of conscience, finally took a breather. Everything continued according to the established routine until late in the evening. And now Strange insisted that Frau Eder go and rest, while he lingered briefly below. The roads were still snow-covered and seemed unmoved. This was somewhat surprising for the usually meticulous Austrians. However, perhaps in this he confused them with the Germans. Or perhaps this place really was so remote that they decided to tackle it last.
In any case, the supplies in the house were running low. While food wasn't yet essential, there was nowhere to get the ingredients for "tea," if nothing changed by tomorrow.
Stefan already had some thoughts on how this composition would work.
But he didn't take on the experiment. Not in this situation.
Somewhere in the background, but still quite persistent, he was plagued by frustration at being practically useless all the time. And now he couldn't do anything truly effective. Only establish a general routine, ensure that minor care details were followed, and monitor his condition.
There was no cure for the virus. The only option was to treat the symptoms, but even here the available arsenal was extremely limited. All that was left was to hope that complications would not develop.
***
The night passed just like the previous one, except that at some point the "tea"'s effects diminished or even wore off. Perhaps a tolerance had developed, or the immune response was becoming uncontrollable. And, knowing the enhanced regeneration of the Aesir and their resistance to infection, Strange feared the latter possibility.
To his great relief, it didn't last long and by morning it was subsiding again.
At exactly the same time as yesterday, Frau Eder took over. This time, Strange set his own alarm.
He managed to wake up, freshen up, and go downstairs for a strong coffee. He'd already taken his first sip when his phone vibrated .
After a rather cool greeting, his friend informed him that Stefan now owed him a great deal. Things weren't looking good in New Asgard, but it wasn't a disaster yet. Yes, many persons were hospitalized. Some were seriously ill. Two were fatal. But some were still quite well and showing no signs of illness. There were difficulties finding the right medications. There were no details, and there wouldn't be. Who? Thor? No, he seemed to still be quite functional. Stefan wasn't asked why he needed this, but if any of this information ever got out, he'd be a complete bastard.
All that remained was to thank him and promise to always remember own debt. He hesitated for a moment, but then asked for one more favor: with as little as possible, or without mentioning him at all, convey the following list of herbs, with special attention to nutmeg. No, Strange had learned about it entirely by accident during his amateur scientific research. Thanks again.
Meanwhile, the coffee had grown cold, and after briefly hesitating between the tastelessness and the waste of time, Strange finally decided to make a new one. He barely had time to raise the mug to his lips when a long, drawn-out honk of a car horn sounded approaching outside.
Soon, the deep, heavy rumble of heavy machinery became audible. And then another long, impatient honk, clearly closer than before.
Looking out the window to make sure the snow was actually being cleared, Strange saw an elderly but energetic man emerge from a battered car abandoned directly behind a slowly moving snowplow. Despite his obvious excess weight, he nimbly vaulted the snow plow on the side of the road and briskly strode across the untouched snow on the sidewalk straight to the house. Judging by his tattered work clothes, he was most likely a local farmer. In a few seconds, he managed to climb the hill into the yard, slightly out of breath, opened the gate in a familiar manner, and, looking around, was clearly slightly taken aback by the sight of the completely snow-free grounds. At that moment, he noticed Strange through the window, and their gazes briefly met.
Putting his mug down again with a discontent, Stefan hurried to the door – neither an extra bell nor an extra guest were needed here right now. He managed to open the door before the bell rang. But before he could utter a sound, a hefty fist flew toward him.
Before Strange could think, his body reacted automatically – years of training in Kamar-Taj hadn't been in vain, and even with his newly returned limitations, he could still do certain things, and before him now was no mage, no ace, but a perfectly ordinary man, albeit a massive one. He dodged the blow. And the next. And the next.
Then, seizing the moment, offensive, drop on the floor the struggling intruder as gently as possible and attempting to immobilize him. He fought back desperately, cursing loudly and demanding that they hand over some Ani.
"Paul! No, stop! What are you doing? Herr Doktor, stop! Let him go!" Frau Eder practically crashed into them, trying to separate them. Stefan let go and stood up.
A short, measured clap came from the stairs. A quick glance was enough to see Loki sitting on the top steps. He was leaning his shoulder against the railing, relaxed and at ease.
“Strange, bravo! You’re a master of diplomacy! You’re bringing… A knockout argument," his voice hadn't yet regained its usual firmness and strength, but it was definitely back. "Herr Kaufman, it turns out you're a worthy opponent. May I ask what prompted you to rush into battle so zealously?"
“Oh! I… I…” The man, who hadn’t been particularly pale before, rose to his feet and blushed even more deeply. He glanced at them all, shifting awkwardly, unable to find the right words. “Ani, you didn’t answer! They say we’ve got some kind of devilry going on here. And I thought, maybe like at the Schwartzes’ the other day – a robbery…” Strange winced involuntarily – no one had ever imagined him as a robber. Meanwhile, Kaufman continued: “Can you imagine! It’s been years since anything like this has happened! They didn’t steal so much, they ruined everything! And they disappeared before the snowstorm – you won’t find a trace!” He paused, abruptly jumping from topic to topic. “Herr Wolf , you look really bad. How did you manage to…?”
"Yes, thank you, I think I heard something like that. It was just pure luck. By the way, I think I forgot to thank you for your help the other day…"
"Oh, come on. It's not worth it. For me, it was just a matter of course."
"Paul, I asked you not to come! I didn't answer - I'm busy! It's not a robber, it's a doctor."
Judging by the completely skeptical gaze that once again swept Strange's full height over him, he looked much more like a robber. Stefan sighed. "Doctor Stefan Strange. Actually, I was only visiting a friend for a short time, but as you can see, I was forced to stay." He extended his hand and tried to smile as kindly as possible.
"Paul Kaufman. I'm a farmer," he took his hand and shook it firmly and decisively. "Forgive me, Herr Doktor, I've probably gone completely wild with my cows." He had already settled in and was beginning to look, albeit guilty, but quite confident.
"I have to ask: were you sick..."
"Yes, I understand. Anna told me everything on the phone. I was sick. And I reminded her—we were all sick back then, the whole gang. Only I ended up in the hospital. Since then, I haven't been infected—not by my nephews, not by anyone else."
"Okay. Fall..."
"Oh, no! I'm fine. I often get worse from calves."
Strange half-expected a caustic comment from the stairs on such a wonderful occasion, but none came. And Kaufman suddenly remembered:
"Ani, I brought some things there. You've been here for a long time now. There's some cheese and other things. I'll be right back."
He hurried out and headed towards the car.
***
The desire to take advantage of fate's gift and replenish supplies was natural. Kaufman readily agreed to help, though he did clarify that he would have to make a detour for his own business. But before Stefan, who had made arrangements with Frau Eder and was already dressed, could leave, he was called out:
"Strange! A promise!"
"As soon as I get back. And you're still on bed rest!"
He didn’t hear the answer, having slammed the door.
Kaufman's car, while looking like a veteran, handled exceptionally well even on rough roads. And the driver was a master. His only drawback was his excessive talkativeness – he couldn't stand silence.
The journey was monotonous and long, so Strange involuntarily learned the intricacies of cow care, the advantages of breeds, the peculiarities of calving, and other farming nuances that had never interested him. By interjecting a few thoughts on veterinary matters interspersed with medical matters, simply to avoid remaining silent, he apparently inadvertently won farmer's trust, confirming that he was indeed a doctor and not a robber. And the conversation gradually shifted to more personal matters.
Finally, Kaufman said thoughtfully:
“You know, according to common sense and the law, of course, I should have called the police.
Stefan didn't understand what he was talking about at first.
"I was just a little scared: by the time I explained it to them, by the time they got here on these roads, by the time they figured it out... But I came straight away. Well, I was a bit hasty. My heart always ached for Ani. But she never cared about me. And now I've realized – time is running out. You're still young, you probably won't understand. And I approached her house and realized that if something had happened, then that was it – while I doubted, gave in to her and waited, my whole life had been wasted. Hers and mine."
There was no answer. Kaufman continued as if he didn't need answers. He was simply seething inside, and needed to release the pressure immediately:
"At first I thought, well, she got married, what could I do? She was always like the fairy queen from children's fairy tales to me. Then she got married, had a son. A grandson was born – she doted on him, couldn't praise him enough. I was happy, I figured that if she was happy, I was happy too. And I have nephews too. I got distracted. And then they all crashed, her family – her husband, her son, her daughter-in-law, and her grandson. Ani was with them, but only got a few scratches. Her husband lay in bed for a little over a year, she didn't let anyone near him, she learned everything herself. Well, next year it will be ten years since this happened.
But I, fool that I am, still stay on the sidelines!"
Strange stood in shocked silence. People didn't usually choose him as the recipient of such revelations. In many ways, he himself hadn't given them the opportunity, pushing them away and ridiculing their absurd mistakes.
But he himself was once again confronted with his own distorted reflection. Kaufman exhaled and, regretfully hitting the steering wheel with both hands, began to rattle off sharply:
"Forgive me again! I always say too much, then I start thinking. You don't need other people's worries. It turns out I first came at you with my fists, and now I've poured a bucket of mud on you..."
"No, no. It's all right," Stefan held his breath, "I understand you very well," he took another breath, "I, too, while recovering from the accident, pushed away the only person who had always sincerely and selflessly helped me and still does... She's getting married in a month, and I don't even know who to.
The car swerved.
***
Upon his return, Strange learned that Loki had been waiting in the kitchen the entire time, stubbornly and blindly ignoring both his instructions and Frau Eder's pleas (she merely shrugged her shoulders helplessly). Such a dismissive attitude toward his efforts shouldn't have bothered him, but for some reason it deeply hurt, despite his long-standing professional habits and a quiet inner voice insisting that this persistence was entirely understandable.
As soon as Stefan appeared at the kitchen threshold, Loki immediately turned away from his thoughtful rotation of the disassembled phone on the countertop and seemed to pin the newcomer with a piercing gaze.
"Strange, your promise!" His voice rang with obvious impatience and irritation.
"First of all, I don't see you strictly adhering to the agreement. Not yesterday, and certainly not today..." He calmly approached the table and, pulling out one of the chairs, placed the shopping bag on it.
"You still can't tell me what to do! We agreed on something completely different: information about Asgard in exchange for me staying. I'm here. And I know you already got it!"
"I got it, - ("cool down, Stefan, don't get worked up,") - But that doesn't mean I don't have the right to decide when to hand it over..."
"Strange, don't make me take it by force!" Loki interrupted him and rose to his feet, threateningly slowly.
("Stop! You're both tired. Remember medical ethics!" )
"It's enough that I say this: the situation in New Asgard is already under control." What else could he say to stop Loki from trying to rush towards them?
"This is all?!"
"What did you expect?"
"Tell me, have you always been this completely useless? Or only since you became a mage? In that case, I myself..."
To hell with medical ethics! Now Strange didn't let Loki finish:
"By yourself? What are you talking about? Will you be able to handle all of this on your own as successfully as you handled what ultimately brought you here?"
Loki lunged at him with a roar. Strange was knowing this was what his words would lead to, but he simply couldn't hold back.
Their strength might have been roughly equal now, had Stefan, with his training, still been as healthy as before the accident. And yet, he managed to successfully employ several techniques, albeit at the cost of the furniture. To his disappointment, they proved virtually ineffective, and he only briefly delayed the inevitable. Loki, breathing heavily through his teeth, no longer paying attention to Strange's techniques, which suddenly seemed like empty twitching, grabbed him by the collar with one hand and reached for his temple with the other. Such devilish determination burned in his eyes that Stefan, in despair, poured all his strength into a panicked final blow.
And then it was as if he lived his life again in disorderly pieces...
***
It must have taken very little time before Stefan realized he was looking at the kitchen ceiling, because he glanced around and saw Loki slowly rising from the ruins of the dining room table. He looked puzzled, if not downright lost.
A bucket full of water was suddenly lowered between them with a loud clang, splashing onto the floor. Frau Eder turned silently and left, only to return immediately with a clearly heavy wooden box with a tall handle, filled with tools. It seemed to have been waiting for her around the corner.
"It's not for me to stop you. So, when you're done fighting, please clean everything up! Since you're not going to take anyone's contributions and efforts into account except your own!"
The chilling indignation and reproach of this essentially weak woman, who had decided to intervene in such a conflict, were so thick they were suffocating. Without waiting for a response, she left, this time for good.
Suddenly, he felt a childish shame at his lack of restraint, his loss of control, and the blatant provocation... Glancing at Loki again, Strange managed to notice the same emotions on his face before he hid them, glancing back. Expecting either a further fight or at least a verbal altercation, Stefan was utterly surprised by what he heard:
“And again the same mistake!..” It was said with feeling, but rather quietly, so it was certainly said by Loki to himself, but what followed was… “Strange, I think I should apologize.”
He approached Stefan, who was still sitting there in confusion, and extended his hand. Strange took it and stood up.
"Mmm..." He hesitated, unsure of the best response. What was this sudden change in mood? An attempt at manipulation where force had failed? In any case, it was better than a fight. As they say: "better a lean peace"..? A heaviness settled in his head, somewhere on the edge of sensitivity, but quite certain.
And then he realized...
"Has your magic returned to you yet?"
Loki, staring intently at the wreckage of the table, raised his clenched fist with effort, but achieved nothing more than barely discernible green sparks. He sighed regretfully.
"Obviously, you used up everything that arrived. I... went a bit overboard. So most likely by the evening you will have a very bad headache."
"Well, it's good when there's something to hurt about. It's worse when something that doesn't exist hurts. Perhaps I was also a little wrong..."
"Strange, keep in mind, if I were at full strength, you wouldn't even realize when you lost."
"How were you when we first met a few years ago?" Stefan wanted to ask, but he kept the comment to himself and only chuckled neutrally.
Meanwhile, Loki picked up the only surviving chair from the set. By a lucky chance, it was the very one on which the package had stood, which was immediately discovered completely intact. The table was beyond repair, so it had to be simply folded into a corner until further notice from its owner.
Having completed these simple steps, Loki, not hiding his fatigue, sat down on the windowsill, which was low for his height, with his back to the window. “Strange, how long will this last?”
This was perhaps the closest he came to openly admitting his own weakness to Stefan.
“It’s hard to say for sure, but based on the overall dynamics, I would assume that the worst is behind us."
"I'll take your word for it. How did all of you even survive with such threats right at your fingertips?"
"Well, we survived as a species. Unfortunately, this required, and still requires, a great many sacrifices. But for a long time now, things like empathy and mutual support have helped us..."
"Let's skip the educational lectures."
"I'll put it this way: there are far more serious infections on our planet. But against most of the most serious ones, we have more or less effective weapons."
" What could be more serious?"
"Oh, you won't believe it. Rabies, Ebola, typhus..."
Loki frown with displeasureand immediately interrupted:
"Enough! What do you mean by weapons?"
"Prevention. A whole system of measures. And only after that – treatment methods."
"Okay, let's leave that. What's in Asgard? Just give me some details, please."
"So you don't?.."
"No. The squall is difficult to control."
Well, Stefan shared all the bits and pieces he'd managed to now. Of course, he omitted the deaths, and tried to explain what conclusions could be drawn from the available information.
And then the most difficult day of all the previous ones awaited them, as if punishing both of them for their lack of restraint: the "very severe headache" promised to Strange quickly turned into a raging migraine, unstoppable by any available painkiller; and Loki, having exhausted his reserves, as Stefan suspected, was overcome by a fever that was as close to critical as possible.
Nevertheless, those 24 hours passed. And after them, the promised improvement did indeed come.
And two days later Wong called.