An Unlikely Little Miracle
a Doctor Strange one-shot by sobeautifullyobsessed
photo edit created by @doctorstrangeaskblog and used with permission
Summary: A practitioner of a different sort of magic offers temporary relief for a debilitating injury.
“I make no promise this will work—but give me your hands please…”
Reverently, Teyla traced the scars upon the back of his right hand and along the length of each finger, then gently flipped it over, to do the same upon his palm, moving on to his left hand in her own good time. Stephen had not allowed such familiar contact with his damaged hands in ages, and his flesh seemed to spark at her soothing touch. He found himself mesmerized by the softness of her patient exploration, understanding as he watched that her fingers were memorizing the patterns of his scars, and that she was methodically building a magic he had never seen before.
“You must trust me now,” she told him, as she brought his hands palm to palm, laying her own atop and underneath them, “There will be pain, but I promise it will be brief. You must not flinch or pull away, lest the charm I weave be broken.” Her voice was hushed, but like her motions, held him spellbound. “Can you do this for me, Stephen? Surrender control in this moment to me, and do not fight the sensations you will feel.”
“Of course,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse with awe and anticipation—though he remained somewhat skeptical that she could even deliver what she had claimed.
Teyla had his hands still sandwiched between her own; she had closed her eyes and was humming softly, a pleasant run of notes which seemed to resonate in the bones of his hands. Was he actually feeling this lulling music beneath the skin, in his muscles, ligaments, joints? Her head was bent close to their hands, so that her lank brown hair curtained them; how far different, he reflected, was her plain physical appearance, from the fetching luminescence of her astral form. It seemed to him now, he could see the ghost of that unearthly beauty behind and beneath the pallid skin she inhabited; a beauty ever present but secret, except to eyes that had been opened to the astounding truth that Earth was only one among an infinite number of realities—and that she hailed from a far different reality than that which he called home.
Their hands were now wreathed in a bright blue light; an echo of the true color of her eyes, which he had glimpsed in his encounter with her astral form. His own hands grew warm and tingly as Teyla continued to work her spell. She had called her unique gift “empathetic magic”, and he was at last beginning to grasp what she meant.
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