Thirty-Three

                                    

                                          
Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce
"Oh god," Emerson wakes up with the pain back once again. It's terrible and hardly bearable. She's running a fever which isn't surprising since her body feels as if it were on fire. She doesn't notice it at first but her legs are moving around in the bed all by themselves. She doesn't have to lift them up to move. "Wong!" She calls for him as she rips off the blankets that cover her overheated body. Her legs are moving without focus-- just like her legs used to work. After not getting a response, Emerson decides she'll take matters into her own hands. Overwhelmed with the pain in her legs but also the excitement of being able to move them, she swings her legs over the side of the bed. Planting her feet on the floor she lifts herself off the bed with her arms. Too focused to look up and see, the bedroom door opens. The sergeant's mind is running wild with the excitement of being able to walk again. It has been too long since she's been able to walk. Is it like riding a bike; will it come naturally again?
"Wong, look at this!" Emerson excitedly calls out, assuming it was Wong who walked in. She uses her muscles to stand up beside the bed. Just as she looks up to see Strange and not Wong, she attempts to take a step forward. "Stephen, where have-" the sergeant starts but is cut off when she falls to the ground in front of the sorcerer. Embarrassed, Emerson looks up to the sorcerer hoping he doesn't look disappointed. Without hesitation, Strange bends over to help her off the ground. "That fucking hurt."
"I bet," is all he says in response while helping his apprentice to the bed. His face is stoic, void of all emotion. Emerson expected him to be excited to see her standing, but instead, he just stares her down. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume he was glaring. 
"Where have you been?" Emerson questions, afraid to look him in the eye. He's been gone for a couple of days with no communication. Of course he's mad, that's understandable, but disappearing off the face of the earth isn't okay. Emerson knows she's in the wrong but she is still allowed to worry about him. It's scary when he vanishes leaving her concerned as to where he is and what danger he's getting himself into. 
"I was meeting with a few people to discuss the current situation. I didn't realize you had taken the elixirs while I was gone. Had I known I would've been here," he mumbles under his breath before dragging a hand through his hair, slicking the sides back. He looks Emerson up and down, seeing her still in her pajamas with unruly hair. "We need to discuss the plan from here on out, considering a deal was made with Loki. That puts the entire sanctum at risk-- everything and everyone here, including us," he raises his voice when speaking. It's not a yell, but any louder and it very well could be. He looks undoubtedly frustrated and Emerson doesn't know what to say to make it better. 
"I'm sorry, Stephen. I wish I had told you sooner that I had them. I was just afraid," Emerson tells him while he lifts her back into bed. The burning feeling still resides in her bones, leaving her feeling weak and exhausted. It's so painful, it feels like the opposite of healing. She wishes the sensation would go away but it's a necessary evil. 
"Why would you be afraid to tell me?" He calmly asks while taking a seat on the edge of the bed. His hair is a mess and he's still in his sorcerer robes. He must have had a busy day. Emerson picks at her fingers anxiously before answering his question. 
"I thought you'd make me leave. Or that you'd never want to talk to me again. I know you're upset but I was worried you'd be so angry that you'd kick me out of here."
"I would never do that to you, Emerson," he truthfully responds. Shaking his head, he speaks up again, "If you had told me before, we could've figured it out. I could have spoken with Loki's brother to work something out so we wouldn't be in danger. Loki is not a good person-- he uses people to get what he wants. He plays these little games to entertain himself. How much contact have you had with him?"