He stayed quiet behind the mask. There were times to talk, to have the sarcastic one-liners that everyone seemed to expect from him. There were times to allow things to play out without comment, no matter how much you wanted to say something. This was one of the latter. He had known it from the moment that Clea had revealed a vague location of where they had to rescue Stephen Strange. The address was a familiar one, even to someone not of the same world. He was, after all, the Stephen Strange of Counter-Earth, known as Strangeman. He knew where they were going, and more likely than not, what they would find. He kept quiet. This was one of those times.

The others were still recovering from the aftereffects of Clea's teleportation spell. After the resistance she had felt when she had tried to find him *, from some strong magical power, she hadn't wanted to risk bringing them in too close. If there was some sort of mystical barrier blocking their way... there was no telling what the effects would be. Perhaps they would reappear inside of it, or bounce off the barrier, coming to rest a foot or two away from their intended destination. There was also the chance that once tested, whoever was behind it all, would have something nasty up their sleeve, causing them to reappear within the actual barrier spell, tearing them apart in the process. Strangeman hadn't commented, after all, he could be wrong. It was better to be safe. Or so he kept telling himself.

(*Last issue - GD)

Clea looked at the others, impatience stenciled on her features. She didn't want to wait, no matter how many times she said that she didn't mind. The man they were rescuing, after all, was the love of her life. Or so she kept telling him.

Strangeman had other thoughts of the subject. Maybe Stephen himself did as well. He wondered how much she would be hurrying if she knew what they were going to be walking into. Probably the same amount, he calculated. Clea wasn't the type that sat around waiting for things to happen. At least not the Clea that he loved... knew, he corrected. They weren't the same person, the more time he spent around this Stephen's love the more he realized that. But they had the same effect on him. Clea made him do stupid things and say even worse ones. The more time he spent around her, the more he regressed to being what he didn't want to be. Yet, he stayed as close to her as she would allow. What that said, he didn't want to think too much about. Or at least, not until they found Stephen

Moondragon stood beside her, just as anxious. He had heard that she too had been involved with this Earth's Stephen Strange, but didn't know what to think about it. They were very much too different people, and yet, in a way, he could see where there might have been an attraction. She was a beautiful woman, with the same spirit of HIS long lost Clea. If Stephen had been able to look past her arrogance, to what lie beneath, if only for a moment, he could see where they might have been a match. Perhaps not the best of matches, but a match nonetheless. He could see the veins in her temple straining against the fabric of her flesh, pushing her mental powers outward, for some sign of what was ahead of them.

Strangeman didn't shake his head, but he wanted to do so. He watched her for a moment, straining against that which she would not be able to penetrate, before she finally gave up with a frustrated growl. He smiled behind his midnight blue full-face mask, hoping that no one would notice.

Janine De Loup, former Ghost Rider and defender of Gaia, was lost in thought. Perhaps, Strangeman thought, she was recovering from the teleport. Either that, or she was going through some sort of mental preparation. Maybe she was doing both. Whatever she was doing, she seemed distant, and her eyes were closed tightly. He felt his own power start to go toward her, and pulled it back with a start. Had she pulled his magicks toward her, or had his increased powers gone off on their own to investigate her? He wasn't sure, and didn't like it. He tried to block her from his thoughts all-together, as he looked over the rest of his companions.

Sam Buchanan was talking with Devil Slayer off to the side. The former didn't look too well. Strangeman wasn't surprised. He was a really good fighter, and a truly decent man, at times. But this wasn't his thing. He wasn't made to be a part of something like this. He was part of the Index, as Strangeman himself was, dedicated to seeking out the great and powerful books of existence. They hadn't even really done all that much, but Sam looked tired. Strangeman wasn't sure what that meant. Sam had been through quite a lot more over the years. To have him tired now... maybe there was something else going on. Something beyond being out of his league. Strangeman made a mental note to take himself aside, to talk to him, once this all was over. Besides, he might have other things to discuss at that point as well. No use in having two conversations where one would do. He stopped himself, turning that sentence over again in his mind. Was that arrogance? He didn't think so, merely being practical.

His eyes went back to Sam's companion, the Devil Slayer, didn't seem to be any worse for wear from the teleportation. But then again, Strangeman noted, his fabulous cloak had it's own abilities in that direction. He did seem however, a bit pre-occupied, even deep in conversation, his eyes seemed to be a million light years away. Strangeman wondered if he should get closer, to learn the reason for his behavior. If Sam was telling one of his stories again, he didn't blame ANYONE who wasn't completely paying attention. Sam was a good guy, but not much of a story-teller. Or, more to the point, his stories were good the first couple times he told them, but got pretty old quickly.

His eyes fell on the green haired beauty that was Lorna Dane, the mutant Polaris. She had returned to the team just before they had departed. * But by the way she was relating to her teammates, it was as though she had never left.

(*Last issue - GD)

She was another one recovering. But she seemed to be getting her wind back fairly quickly, by his estimation. The ones who weren't were Rina Patel, Timeslip and Craig Hollis, Mr. Immortal.

Craig at least had an excuse. Up until Clea had began the spell, everyone had assumed him to still be in a coma after their battle with the forces of darkness. * He had surprised everyone by not only be up and walking, but seemingly in shape to go back into active duty.

(* Defenders #200 - GD)

That, Strangeman noted, might have been a bit on the premature side. He seemed to be more shaken than just about anyone by the spell. He had almost fell down when they had come out the other side, as if he had been drained of something important in the process. But the longer he stood afterward, the more the strength seemed to come back into him.

Timeslip was a different story. Strangeman still wasn't sure exactly how much older she was supposed to be than the other version of herself that was a member of the team, but she looked far older than she was supposed to be. It was as though something had reached out from a great distance and hit her in the face with age. She too was drawn inward, the years coming off her features the longer she stayed still, as if she was playing time backward upon herself.

He glanced over to where the being that they called Cloud was hovering a few feet off the ground, seemingly oblivious to them all. The hermaphrodite was the host to what was called the Phoenix power, an ancient and dangerous power that had been known to manifest itself from time to time, usually with tragic results. S/he hovered, as if waiting for further instructions from someone. Strangman shivered, not sure what was worse. A powerful being with an agenda... or one without one.

The final member of the group, Victoria Montessi, was also from the Index, an outsider in a group of outsiders. She and Stephen also had a history, but not one that she talked about much. At least not anymore. Even being another version of Stephen, he hadn't been able to get the full story out of her. Perhaps it was better that way. She was watching Timeslip with nothing less than a combination of awe and outright envy. A pinch of sympathy kept creeping into her expression, but it was quickly replaced by the more powerful duo.

He allowed his eyes to go back to Clea, who was now looking at the others. Perhaps she was going through the same sort of assessment in her own head, figuring what roles they would play in the rescue mission. Perhaps she was just pretending to do so to hide the stares that were directed at him. He wasn't sure. He had his theories, but he wasn't sure.

As if on signal, the aging process in Timeslip came to a halt and she opened her eyes again. The rest of the team sprang to attention. Clea nodded with something close to satisfaction.

The instructions came out of her like second nature. Strangeman listened carefully as she told them what needed to be done. It wasn't the worst plan that he had ever heard. It wasn't the best. He allowed himself a mental shrug. There wasn't much he could do about it anyway, not unless he wanted to speak up. He stayed silent.

The farmhouse was still. Cloud had tracked the source of the interference to an innocent looking piece of Americana in Nebraska. From a distance, to those without the sight, it appeared perfectly normal. Clea chastised whoever had set up the barrier. To anyone who knew what they were looking for, once they got close enough, it might as well be a beacon. Unless of course, the thought hit her in the stomach, whoever made the barrier was expecting them. In which case, there was no telling what had happened/was happening to Stephen. She wanted just to burst in with a full powered assault. But her better self won out. There was simply too much of a risk that something could happen in the meantime. Whoever was holding the Sorcerer Supreme was no amateur. Otherwise, regardless of the state they might have found him in, there was no way they would still have him in their clutches.

The thought "Why Nebraska" kept crawling back into her head no matter the times she beat it down. Stephen was from this place, she had never bothered with the details, despite the years they had been together. It simply wasn't something that he talked about much. Or maybe he had told her, once, and she had simply forgotten. So much had happened over the last couple of years, so much tragedy, so much joy, so much of which to keep track. It was a wonder that she was able to retain as many of the important things as she did. She didn't think that this was the house that Stephen had grown up in though, it didn't have the right feel to it. But she sensed him here. Not just in the now.

She glanced over to Timeslip, "He was here before wasn't he?" she asked, "A long time ago?"

Rina Patel closed her eyes, concentrating. Finally, she nodded. "He spent time here as a young man."

Clea turned back to the farmhouse. Why would someone bring him back here of all places? What did they hope to accomplish? They couldn't be sure, she knew. All they could count on was that Stephen needed their help. She turned to Cloud and gave the signal.

Cloud stared at the mystical barrier that had been erected between the farmhouse and the rest of the world. It was impressive, with twists and turns to it that would baffle some of the greatest powers known to mankind. S/he had managed to bypass it before, for just a moment. Which meant that it would be easier this time. S/he didn't look back at the group, although s/he got the sense that they were looking at her/him. It was strange, s/he decided after a moment of reflection, what interested people. Perhaps s/he would examine that too at some point. There was plenty of time. S/he looked at the barrier, and then passed it, the Phoenix power flaring up for a moment, at the weakest point, at the junction point of a hex and an electron. S/he paused for a second before stepping through, slightly cocking his/her head to the left. A smile slowly spread across his/her face like a child coming downstairs to find a room full of wonderful toys.

Something was wrong... something was very, very wrong. That which was within Mr. Immortal felt it from the moment he had arrived. Perhaps it had been a mistake to push the host too far too fast. He had almost lost control. That could have been fatal. He needed to rest, to regain his strength, before striking back at those who had wronged him. These puppets were but a step in the right direction, to strike where no one would be expecting him to be. The plan though was in jeopardy.

Coming face to face with Dr. Strange was the last thing he needed. If the Sorcerer Supreme had more presence of mind than the pawns, he actually might be able to pierce the veil. If merely teleporting had almost lost what was his, what would passing through the barrier do? He wasn't sure. He stared at the others as they went through the hole that the being they called Cloud had made. Although it had collapsed seconds after it had opened, Timeslip had managed to hold them within that moment between frames of time. She seemed shaky.

He took a step toward the barrier, and fell down, as if struck by a fierce blow. Someone cried out, Polaris, he realized. "Go on ahead!" he called out to them through gritted teeth. The brave soldier. He could see Polaris debate with Devil Slayer about something. She appeared to lose the argument. Devil Slayer stepped back through the hole in the barrier.

"Do not worry my friend," the Devil Slayer whispered to him, wrapping him up in his excess cloak as he brought the form that was Mr. Immortal back to his feet, "We shall return you to your rest."

Before he could react, the being within felt the world start to shift, and the Nebraska landscape once again became a living room.

He sighed in relief, then chastised himself for doing something so mortal. Perhaps he had spent too much time dealing with them, taking on their weaknesses. Whatever the case, he had avoided the immediate problem. Now he had only to consider his options about...

"Well, hello there," a female voice called out with enthusiasm, "I was starting to get worried."

The window of shattered, dishes lay around the kitchen in pieces. All that was left were Defenders, who were being held in status against their wills by the power of a very angry Dr. Stephen Strange. The sole exception was Cloud, who had gone and put his/herself in the corner when the Sorcerer Supreme had began his verbal explosion.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"You were..." Polaris started, but the anger in Stephen's eyes stopped her from moving her lips to complete the sentence.

"I WENT THROUGH THE TROUBLE OF MAKING MYSELF DISAPPEAR, AND FOR WHAT???? TO HAVE MY SO-CALLED FRIENDS BUST IN TO DESTROY THE FIRST PIECE OF JOY THAT I HAVE HAD IN A LONG TIME."

Clea's eyes burned with a fire of their own, "I don't know how many times I have to explain this Stephen. You went into death, and never came back out again. Of course we wanted to find you! Who would do otherwise??? When you didn't come back, when we found you here, of course we have to ask if you truly know what you are doing. Of course we have to wonder if you're truly your own master."

"What are you saying?" he fixed his glare at her.

"The Stephen Strange that I knew wouldn't give up his friends, his life. He wouldn't just walk away from it all."

"Then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do." he replied calmly.

Janine De Loup wanted to look away, wanted to get away, but the status field held her in place along with the others. Even if what Clea was suggesting was true, it wasn't something that she felt comfortable being in the middle of. After all, if what Stephen was saying was the truth... she didn't even want to consider the implications of being in the room watching it happen.

Clea muttered something under her breath. Stephen laughed and shook his head. "See, I know YOU." he said, as he watched her spell fail. "Maybe though I should have thought out a better place to get away from it all. Or at least a better way of hiding."

"You could have come to us," she answered, "and told us what you were thinking, told us that you needed some time off."

From behind his mask, Strangeman chuckled. "He could have told you that he was leaving you, and you would have just said 'fine'?"

Moondragon shot him a look that would have torn his head off had it teeth.

"You don't know what its like," Stephen started, "Not just to die, but to actually go into that which is death... to come out again. You have no idea what I've seen... what I've done..." he shook his head, "I can't even begin to tell you. I can't even begin to believe that you would understand. ANY of you." He stared at Janine pointedly, "There are some things that man just shouldn't have to see. I've seen them. I've done them.... you have no idea."

Strangeman stared straight ahead at the broken mirror version of himself, finding his voice, and courage, cowering behind the lump in his throat.

Clea pulled her will together, giving herself enough strength, and space, to shake her head violently, "You're not Stephen" she said matter-of-factly, "Stephen would never say those things. I don't know what you've done with him, but by the infernal powers, I'm going to make you pay."

Stephen stared back at her for a moment, at a loss for words, "I'm sorry that you feel that way." he said in a dead calm. He looked over at Strangeman for a moment, then over to where Cloud was standing. "There are people here who will tell you that you're wrong... not that you'd listen. You never would. You're fond of talking, and wanting to get out there to fight the good fight, when the purpose has suited you. You've never been all the good at knowing when the good is not to fight anymore. None of us have when you get right down to it. We're so busy fighting the forest that we miss the fact that its the trees that are killing us."

"You're not Stephen" Clea repeated, "You're not."

"And you wonder why I didn't come back to explain why I had to leave?" he said to the room at large. He turned his back to them, tapping Cloud on the shoulder. "I think you best leave now." he said calmly, "I've got a mess to pick up here. From what I can see, you have more than a few of your own. Best take them home."

Cloud turned around, smiling, "You will come too?" s/he asked expectantly.

He shook his head, sadness in his eyes, "I don't think so." he said.

"Daddy?" a young female voice called out from the other room, "is everything ok?"

The corner of his lip creased into a smile for a moment, before he turned his attention back to Cloud and the group at large, "I have more important things now, more important than the

	September- Year 5
	#209

Send mail to: Gary Dreslinski.