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[thewarningafter]

@beyonce

You've reached Dr. Stephen Strange. Leave a message and my secretary will get back to you.

Comments

@jwatson; text; Night 208

[jumpthegun]

[John has been ignoring the network since yesterday, so he doesn't know that Stephen was killed or that he has a particularly vexing death price. This is the apology he's looking forward to least. Mainly because he was such an incredible ass to this poor man who's never done anything to hurt him. And a man who's been through far, far too much.]

Dr. Strange, you don't need to reply to this, but I wanted to extend my deepest apologies for the way I acted toward you the other night. It was rude, it was uncalled for, and it was just a bloody dick move. I don't want to give excuses for my behavior, so I won't. Suffice to say I was wrong about you and everything here.

You're real and this place is real. I recognize that now. And again, I'm sorry for ever calling that into question. I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but if you require any medical assistance and can't get it from someone you'd prefer, please consider me fully available for your needs.

text | an hour or two later

[thewarningafter]

[Fortunately for both of them, the apology is specific enough that Stephen can place who this is right away. Stephen had certainly fumed over it long enough.]

You didn't exactly call it into question for me.

[He's real. He refuses to have any doubt about that. Being seen like that, though, being told all but literally to his face that John saw him as something made for his entertainment...well, it kind of sucked.]

text

[jumpthegun]

I called it into question at all. That was wrong.

text

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen lets this sit a while again, not sure how he feels about it. Hurt, still, a little, but he can't help but understand, too, if his assumptions are right.]

Was I right that it was what you lost?

text

[jumpthegun]

Yeah. I couldn't tell what was real. Any of it. I thought all of this was just some sort of dream. And dreams don't matter. They're not supposed to matter. And you can do impossible things in them.

[John grips him tablet hard. He wants to confess Stein's death to Stephen, the actual neurosurgeon here. Confess and receive whatever judgement he might have.]

text

[thewarningafter]

[Well, that's more than a little worrying. It's not just people's feelings on his mind, is it? Stephen's much quicker this time.]

Did you do something impossible?

text

[jumpthegun]

No. I didn't.

Dr. Stein is dead. I pulled a giant metal bolt out of his head because he asked me and said we could do it without killing him.

text

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen takes a moment in which to be confused about who the hell Dr. Stein is and why he had a metal bolt in his head before it comes back to him -- the dangerous one, he'd been told the man had a piece of metal through his head. Hadn't had time to think much about it since then.]

When was this?

text

[jumpthegun]

This morning.

permatext

[thewarningafter]

Did you believe you could do it?

[jumpthegun]

Yes. He put a giant screw through his head in the first place, and it was supposed to be a dream. You can do impossible things in dreams. And he told me he thought there was a chance if I followed his instructions.

[thewarningafter]

You didn't know.

[jumpthegun]

I'm a doctor. I should have known. I'm not here for reassurance. I just thought you should know. If I ever seem off again, please inform everyone that I'm not fit to practice medicine.

[thewarningafter]

[The other doctor's's self recrimination quite suddenly pales in Stephen's mind as he realizes his own culpability. He'd known. Stephen had known that he was acting off, telling people that he didn't believe they were real. He should have known that something like this was a possibility, that he could be pushed to do something he never would have considered while in his right mind. It had never occurred to him that someone would ask him to do something like this.

There's another delay in his reply.]

I will. Will you do the same for me?

[jumpthegun]

Yes.

[What more needs to be said?]

[thewarningafter]

[What more, indeed.]

I'm sorry I didn't stop you.

[jumpthegun]

You didn't know you needed to. This is on me, not you.

[thewarningafter]

You weren't the one in your right mind.

[jumpthegun]

Stephen.

[The exasperation is almost audible coming off of that one word.]

[thewarningafter]

[This is when Stephen would type the other man's name back at him just to be difficult. He freezes, hand hovering above the screen as he struggles to reconcile the impulse, the feeling that it's on the tip of his tongue fingers with the utter inability to recall what that name is.

Different response, then.]

That's my name.

[jumpthegun]

I didn't tell you to give you a guilt trip. This is my fault and my burden to bear. Get it out of your head that you've got some sort of culpability.

[thewarningafter]

Then how about you take your own advice? You were delusional.

[jumpthegun]

[John starts to type out 'I've been delusional for the past two months, I should be able to tell,' but thinks better of it.]

Fine.

[And clearly that will be it. Because he's not just lying for the sake of shutting down the argument.]

[thewarningafter]

Yeah. It is.

[jumpthegun]

[John feels himself bristling. He needs to end this conversation before he lashes out at Stephen.]

I'll leave you to it, then, doctor. Thank you for taking my message.