The last person she expected to walk into the coffee shop while she was on the clock–or at all , for that matter–was Doctor Stephen Strange.
She tries to keep her head down the best she can as she listens to him order coffee and a donut.
Apparently, it’s not enough.
“Hey, Scooby-Doo!” Strange says. “No monsters have attacked you lately, have they?”
Michelle swallows, eyes flickering to the window where she can see it freeze up, and then she sees Peter standing there, watching.
“Uh, no sir.” she clears her throat. “Perfectly safe.”
“Nobody’s ‘perfectly safe’ in New York, the Avengers are here.” Strange deadpans, eyeing her suspiciously. MJ wonders if he can see the small droplets of sweat forming on her forehead.
Luckily, his coffee and donut finish not long after he says that and he pays and leaves, but not without Strange telling her that he’d see her around.
Uh oh.
“What did he want?”
“What?” Michelle jumps. Everyone else had already left and she was getting ready to do the same, hanging up her apron. The whole encounter with Strange has left her with a bad taste in her mouth. She wants him to stay out of it– or, out of it for as long as possible, at least.
“Strange.” Peter frowns. “I saw you talking with him earlier.”
“He wanted coffee. And a donut.” Michelle tells him. “Why?”
“He was looking at you weird.”
Well, she did have to agree with him on that. That’s twice she’s run into Doctor Strange in the past couple of weeks, and it’s not normal to just run into an Avenger on the street on any random Tuesday. To see monsters and robots terrorizing the city? That’s more of an average Tuesday in New York.
“I know.” she agrees. “Um, he did call me Scooby-Doo, though.”
“He made a Scooby-Doo reference when the multiverse was breaking. When we studied in the Sanctum, or whatever it’s called.”
“I know.”
“Do you think he knows?”
“Peter, I don’t know !” she exclaims, and he flickers from beside her and, of course, Doctor Stephen Strange happens to pass by the window of the coffee shop as soon as Peter is out of sight.
She stares at him as he walks, hoping he didn’t see that entire thing, but she knows he does. Because Michelle Jones knows things.
She wonders where Peter went, because she doesn’t see him for the rest of the night. Part of her wonders if he’s just choosing to not be visible, another part wonders if he’s off wandering somewhere, stewing until they’ve both cooled off enough to come back. She swaps back and forth from staring at the ceiling and walls, to flipping through multiple different books, to pacing around the room, to sketching to trying to sleep–something she can’t seem to do.
She starts a new sketch of herself, because I like to sketch people in crisis; look, it’s you – and apparently she was having a crisis right now. The love of her life is dead and exists on a plane of existence between life and death, and she wasn’t even sure if she’d be considered an ex or not, and she really just wants to see him solid again–wants to hug him, hold his hand, grip his head and kiss him, and slap him for being so sacrificially stupid. She also needs to know how he died, but that’s something she hasn’t found out yet. She hasn’t pushed him on that part.
She doesn’t see him for the better part of the next morning, either. Doctor Strange comes in again, orders, eyes her suspiciously, and leaves. She wonders if she could get him locked up for suspicious activity long enough to get off his radar, but it’s probably not a smart thing to do considering he’s an Avenger , and New York kind of needs those with all of the robots and aliens and robotic aliens all the time.
She makes herself a tea before hanging her apron up and leaving, having only worked the morning shift, and leaves out the back door, tapping her index finger on the clear plastic cup, thinking of what to do next.
She decides on the library.
“Michelle!” the librarian smiles. “The current hyperfixation, I presume.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Michelle smiles back. Michelle comes in here a lot–more than usual the past couple of weeks, and at first, she’d thought they’d give her strange looks and think she was crazy when she asked for lore books on magic and anything they had on ghosts, but she had just shown her where the books she needed were and given her a box of files of things that might ‘help in her research’.
She takes her spot at the table she usually sits at, the librarian bringing her over some books and another thing of files down.
“Let me know if you need anything else, hun.” she pats Michelle on the shoulder.
Michelle nods politely. “Thank you.”
After she leaves, Michelle opens one of the books, laying her forehead in the palm of her hand and sighs.
This sucks. Out loud.
Especially because she doesn’t believe in ghosts.
“Why is he here?” Michelle whispers to herself. She wonders if Strange knows she’s here, but it’s pretty obvious that he does, and she wonders if he knows that she knows that he’s here.
He’s here in civilian clothing, and she watches him closely, but not too closely, as he makes his way through all the bookshelves, cloak secured around his shoulders.
The librarian walks over to her.
“Hey, we’re about to close. Do you want me to put those in your box?”
The library here has a pile for books to read later– a pile, or box, for everyone who chooses to use it for their advantage. Michelle usually doesn’t, but she really needs to have these at her disposal when she comes.
“Please,” Michelle replies. “and I’d like to check this one out.” she says, gesturing to the book in her hands.
“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”
Michelle absentmindedly hands her her library card, and the librarian walks off with the books. She takes out her phone, then, and checks it. It’s almost six.
Doctor Strange has books galore at his disposal, all the things he could ever dream of for research right at his fingertips, and he’s at the local Queens library? Something’s not adding up.
“Here you go,” the librarian comes back over and hands her the book and her card. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m sure you will, too.” Michelle smiles.
She leaves out of the door farthest from Doctor Strange.
Of course, that door has to lead into the alley on the side of the building.
She picks her foot up to leave, but someone stands right in front of her, preventing her from doing so.
“I know you from somewhere,” Doctor Strange says. “where?”
“We’ve never met. Apart from the street the other day.”
“You were already flying before I got to you.”
“Was not.” Michelle demands. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I don’t sell coffee off the clock.”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” he says. “You know something I don’t.”
Something flickers in her peripheral vision, and suddenly Strange is flying backwards into the street, and Peter is at the end of the alley, where it dead ends with a brick wall and a dumpster. He stands there, panting angrily, and he looks pissed.
Strange is all the way across the street, trying to recover from the hit he took.
He floats back over to her.
“What was that? Are you a witch?”
“No, sir. I’m just trying to go home.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I’m not!”
“HEY!” Peter screams, flickering again, and shoves Strange on his butt. Michelle decides to move out of the way, moving to stand behind Peter. She can see the fight better from there, first of all, and second of all, there’s corners for her to squat in. Which is exactly what she does.
“What are you doing?” Strange asks, looking at her in bewilderment. “You’ve got to be a witch–or at least enhanced, somehow.”
“I did research for you once.” Michelle yells at him. “That’s it!”
“No, I’ve seen you more than once.” Strange frowns. “There was a battle . . .”
As Strange continues to mumble to himself, Peter turns to her. “Can he not see me?” he mouths. Michelle’s mouth moves but nothing comes out, so she settles for shrugging her shoulders instead.
“What are you looking at?” Strange demands. Michelle’s eyes snap back to him.
“N-nothing!” she stammers.
“You’re lying.” Strange says, looking around the alley. He looks back at her. “Don’t think this is over.”
“Do you think I could get him arrested?” MJ asks Peter later.
“Probably,” he replies. “maybe we should.”
“As much as I’d like to, it’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“He’s still an Avenger, after all.”
“So?” Peter spits. “There’s more of them.”
“Peter!” MJ scolds. “Um, by the way, what was that back in the alley?”
“What do you mean?”
“You looked more . . . pissed than I’ve ever seen you.” MJ says slowly. “What if ghosts get, you know, violent . . . after a little while?”
“Are you suggesting I’m becoming violent!”
“No!” MJ exclaims. “I just . . . I saw it in a show once, and I was wondering if it was based off of, you know, true things.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“I didn’t.” she pauses. Peter senses something and moves from his normal spot against the wall to sit on her bed. MJ unconsciously moves her feet, despite the fact that it would barely affect either of them whether Peter sat on them or not, except for sending chills and giving Michelle goosebumps. He lifts a hand, hesitates, then lowers it and plays with his fingers for a minute. She frowns–he looks so tiny . “Peter?”
“Michelle,” he says slowly. “are you . . . are you scared of me?”
“What?” Michelle scoffs. “No.”
“Are you lying?” he looks at the necklace–the one she’s awkwardly twirling in her hands. “You’re nervous.”
“No, I’m not.”
It’s clear that Peter does not believe her.
“Regardless, you got really angry around Doctor Strange today. Maybe you should, um, stay away from him for now.”
“Fine.”
“Peter, promise me.”
“I said fine .” he snaps. Michelle flinches back and his eyes widen.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I–” he gets up and heads toward the window.
“Peter–”
He walks through the wall.
“Peter!” she whisper-yells, speeding over to the window. But she’s a second too late.
He’s disappeared again.