Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Doctor Stephen Strange had seen many impossible things in recent years, and had resigned himself to experiencing many more for the foreseeable future; but even fighting titans in space could not prepare him for the sight before him.

The landscape stretched before him in colors he could not name—paths twisted and turned like a collision of MC Escher paintings. The air did not move and tasted stale and made his lungs itch as if he were hiking in a desert. Stephen had not been able to see what would happen to those who would be absorbed into the Soul World. That part had been blank until the Snap would be undone after a few years—resulting in a battle that would only end-

The Cloak tugged him down one path that was narrower than the others. His boots made no sound as he walked up and down inclines. His eidetic memory helpfully supplied several facts and statistics on the negative effects of prisoners kept in solitary confinement (because why the fuck not?) and the slim chances of him coming out with even a tenuous grasp on his sanity.

"Do you know where you're going?" Stephen's voice echoed in the silence. He got a pat on his cheek for his efforts and was directed down another path. It widened, eventually, to an area where the paths merged into a single plane. Stephen came to a stop, his eyes widening at the sight before him. And he finally, finally, realized just how fucked he was.

"The Crossroads," he breathed. He had read about them, of course, and suffered through lectures of the dangers in the place between dimensions. It was a place for the Elder Gods, not mortals; it was nigh impossible to navigate and those unlucky enough to stumble upon it were doomed to wander until time itself unraveled.

Well. Shit.

The only other thing was the tree—Stephen assumed it to be a tree—but rather than wood bodies writhed and twisted as if in agony. Arms and hands made up its branches, pointing towards the various roads like a sign post. A bizarre one constructed out of the tortured souls of the damned to serve as a prop for an eldritch horror barely understood by the human mind...but, still, a sign post.

Stephen took another deep breath of tepid air as his mind raced over his (depressingly limited) options. He could attempt to locate his proper dimension in the morass of routes that lay before him; or, alternatively, he could stay where he was and hope a solution presented itself. Perhaps another poor bastard would stumble across him. Perhaps the reversal of the Snap would be sufficient. Which brought him to the current question screaming in his mind: how the hell did he even end up here?

"I don't suppose you can tell me what happened?" Stephen drawled. The Cloak gave an approximation of a shrug and tapped his cheek. "I suppose we could just stand here for a while. By this eldritch abomination. Wondering how my life went completely off the rails. Regretting every decision I have made up until this point. Spending the rest of eternity talking to myself and a sentient piece of fabric."

The Cloak reared up in offense.

"My apologies—a very handsome piece of sentient fabric."

The Cloak seemed to huff but settled against his shoulders. Stephen gave it a small pat and allowed his eyes to trace the pathways reaching up into the sky and beyond. After a while he sighed and let himself fall backwards, trusting the Cloak to balance him. It began swaying as if to comfort him. Stephen's mind had always been active—always firing and creating and discarding thoughts like a well-oiled engine. He did not do well in environments with low stimulation, despite the hard won patience developed from meditation and practicing the Mystic Arts. Boredom had already begun to set in. How long would he last?

His eyes closed on their own accord. Was his last ditch effort meaningless? It was the riskiest of Hail Marys, dependent on a man who neither knew nor trusted him. When Stephen realized just what victory would cost it had nearly undone him. He could comfort himself, somewhat, with the fact that there hadn't been any other ways he could see over 14 million attempts. He had lived thousands of years in those few minutes. He had bled and been battered and witnessed death after death after death. So much—so much. But he had also seen good. The refusal to roll over and die in the face of a near-God. Tony Stark and the kid—even the ragtag group who called themselves the protectors of the galaxy. He had spent years with them and could not help but feel the deepest amount of respect for who they were. And yet he had to condemn them to years in an Infinity Stone. And for Tony Stark? For the man who fought tooth and nail over and over again? Who bled out in Stephen's arms in thousands of ways? He was to be repaid for his selflessness with-

Perhaps this was punishment. Mordo had always said the bill would come due.

Stephen sometimes wondered, in the dark of night, how he still had his mind. Humans were not meant to experience Death so many times—they were not meant to live for so long. They were not meant to suffer trauma after trauma for millennia on end. He had seen the looks the Elder Masters had given him in the halls of Kamar-Taj and heard the whispers. The hints of fear. The newcomer who defeated Dormammu himself without even a year of study—who could wield the Eye of Agamotto with ease. He should not be standing, much less thriving and growing at an exponential rate. Stephen had not paid them much mind. He might not be nearly as bad as he once was but he was still an arrogant asshole who strove for excellence about 95% of the time. That wasn't going to change no matter how much he mellowed. Yet now look at him.

Time stretched on even though it no longer existed. The Cloak continued to sway, lightly stroking his cheek at odd intervals. There were no sounds here at the Crossroads, save for the swish of fabric and his own breaths. At least, until someone spoke.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

Stephen was on his feet and curling his fingers to summon protective mandalas the next moment, despite the fact he could not access the dimensional energies. All he had open to him was his own personal stores, but he wasn't willing to tap into those unless he was faced with certain death.

The being before him...even decades later Stephen was unable to describe what he had seen. They were light, warmth; yet, his eyes skittered across the surface of their form and along their edges. His mind strained to make sense of them but every time Stephen attempted to force it he felt an unpleasant scratching sensation against the inside of his skull. A warning.

"Please, do not. You will hurt yourself."

Bold of them to assume he doesn't commit some form of self-harm every few days; Stephen wanted to scoff.

The being chuckled and raised what Stephen assumed to be a hand. He felt himself relaxing and sagging against his will. Peace filled his chest-similar to how he felt when he and Christine were good and when Donna used to smile at him like he was the sun.

"Shh. It's quite all right." The being cupped his cheeks and considered him. "I don't do this very often, so I'm afraid I may have been too eager."

"Oh, well, we all make mistakes." Stephen sounded breathless to his ears as...whoever this was stared at him.

"It has been millennia for you. I'm so glad that I could meet you again."

Stephen's brow furrowed. Far be it from him to question some otherworldly being of unknown power but he was certain they had not—his thoughts were interrupted as they continued.

"How interesting, though! To choose to be reborn as the son of a farmer. Well, I suppose variety is the spice of life, as they say."

Stephen opened his mouth, just fucking bewildered at this point, but nothing came out. He wasn't normally rendered speechless but this was a day of firsts.

"Now, shall we begin?"

They stared at each other at the base of the Tree of the Crossroads. Well, Stephen stared. The glowing form before him had no eyes he could determine so who knows how that worked.

"I am...well, I Am." The being began. "I have no true name, but I suppose the closest would be-" The following sounds made Stephen cringe and the scratching on the inside of his skull turn into painful scraping—like a pick etching something into bone.

"How-How about we come up with a nickname?" Stephen gritted out once he recovered.

"Yes, that may be best. This has never been an issue for you before. Well, you did have your mind set on starting over; and so, you have. Call me," they hummed in thought. "Call me The One Above All."

"That's a little pretentious-hey!" Stephen grunted when the Cloak jabbed him in the gut. The One only laughed. It sounded like the church bells Stephen had heard every week while growing up in rural Nebraska.

"I am The One who has created All you see before you. The One who birthed your reality and all others; and, when the time comes, The One who will consume them to begin anew."

Well. Shit.

"I...should I bow, or something?" Stephen's hands twitched as he slowly comprehended just who he was speaking to. He really met God—Christine was never going to believe him.

"No, child. No. I love all my creations. I am not so insecure."

"Still, it is nothing to show respect." Stephen clasped his hands before him and bowed for lack of anything else. His other option was to shake hands and that would be absurd. Stephen could not make out The One's face he got the impression they were amused.

"Indeed. I have watched you, child. Watched and wondered if I should bend a self-imposed rule of mine."

"And that would be?"

"Interference."

Silence fell. Stephen licked his lips as he worked through the implications. He had never been particularly religious; and when Donna...well, that had been the end of it. After that he had seen too much to really put stock in a loving being who could sit back and-

"Why?" Stephen could not elaborate on that simple question, but unsurprisingly The One understood his intent anyway.

"Without pain, there is no pleasure. Without hardship, there is no ease. Meaning is found in the between. Tell me, child, what point would there be if my hand guided every single decision my children make? Why create at all? You rebelled when your own mother tried to correct your backwards 'r' when you were learning to write—are you telling me you would be content with me controlling your life?" The One gestured to the countless paths before them. "For better or for worse, the worlds I birth are allowed to create their own destinies. And I watch, as unlike myself you, all of you, possess the ability to grow and change and make new choices. You learn, you weep, and I love every one of you for that."

"Are you serious? So many atrocities on Earth alone-"

"And I have not caused them. Humans have made those decisions. Perhaps humanity should do better."

Stephen had nothing to say to that.

The One chuckled. "Oh child; my dear one." Stephen shuddered, uncertain of what to do in the face of such unconditional love. He wanted to laugh and sob in equal measure. He wanted to sink into it and lose himself but fear kept him rooted in the spot.

"Then, if you are," Stephen gathered his thoughts to continue. "If you do not interfere, then why consider it now?"

The One nodded, slow and thoughtful. "Because, now, trillions of lives are in the balance. Not only in your dimension, but across the Multiverse itself. To bring the Stones together and use them in such a way—the effects will ripple across time and space. Death is inevitable. It is natural. Yet what the Titan seeks to accomplish is the highest of follies. As you well know the souls have been taken into the Soul stone, removing them from Death's hands. And once Thanos destroys it-"

"I'm sorry, wait. He destroys the Stones? The energies that construct the fabric of the Universe?? What does he expect to happen when he does that? Reality will unravel—time will cease to exist—it will collapse into itself-!"

"From what I understand, he expects to be able to retire to a farm in peace."

Stephen stared; he thought he could feel his mind crack from the sheer stupidity. No. The utter insanity to assume that shattering the Infinity Stones will have no effect on the universe whatsoever. How could he have missed that when he peered into the future?

"In your defense, child, the effects would not be immediate. It would be a slow, inevitable end centuries after the fact. A contraction triggered billions and billions of years early, so to speak." The One sighed. "This has happened once before; not this exact situation, admittedly, but a broken soul driven by trauma and despair setting off a chain of events that causes the end. But even that wasn't as...dire. All in all, the Cosmos has reset six times. But as I watched you, I-"

The One trailed off, staring into the distance. Stephen dared not interrupt them this time.

"I wondered if I would be satisfied. The end is inevitable—to allow the universe to expand until it can do so no longer. I have my rules, and I make it a point to keep to them. For, as you well know, once you bend one it becomes tempting to continue over and over until everything breaks."

"But this one is unnatural, yes? This is the contraction that is one step too far. Because of the Stones' destruction."

"Hmmm. Indeed. The destruction of the stones means that my Cosmic Egg cannot form. Typically, when a collapse occurs, the energies of the stones is what forms the next universe. And when the Egg cracks, the various forces necessary for its operation collect into what you refer to as the Infinity Stones. And so it goes—over and over again."

"What happens if the Cosmic Egg cannot form?"

"I will be forced to become The One Below All and destroy everything. Now, child, perhaps you see my...dilemma. Once the Titan destroys the Stones I will have no choice but to erase everything centuries after the fact. You will be there, at the end, dear one. And you will try so hard to fight but it is so far beyond you to do so. It will break you. And that...I find that hard to swallow. This Seventh Cosmos—I'm quite attached to it. I am displeased that it will end this way."

Stephen swallowed in an attempt to combat his dry mouth and throat. Futile, but apparently he was the poster child for that sort of thing. Was everything he tried doomed to fail? Being a son his parents would be proud of? Donna? His career? And now this madness?

"Why have you brought me here? Why not just strangle the damn bastard in his crib and spare us all?"

"I am already interfering on a level I have never done before." The One's voice, for the first time, sounded reproving. "I will not be an assassin, child. My rules exist for a reason—to interfere recklessly would be... ...at the very least, once The One Below All consumes everything I could form another Cosmic Egg. But if I am thoughtless the cycle would be broken."

And that would truly be the end.

"And so, you would direct a person of your choosing to accomplish your wishes instead."

The One seemed pleased. "That would not be anything new. I have had a representative before, although the position is currently empty."

"Do you intend for me to fill it?"

"No, child. You have your own path. And while you would be a superb Living Tribunal, you would be so miserable."

"That wouldn't be anything new, I assure you," drawled Stephen.

"Be that as it may," The One said, "I have something else in mind for you—something that compliments your skill set. Child, I will place you back in time."

The ringing of a phone woke him.

Stephen inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the detergent still clinging to his high-count sheets. The sort of sheets he hadn't slept on in years. His eyes snapped open to the sight of a room that had once been a source of pride. He was back in is penthouse in Upper East Side, Manhattan.

Was it a dream, Stephen wondered as he gazed around the modern, minimalist interior. As opposed to the Sanctum, which had been filled to the brim with relics and antiques and books and tchotchkes, he had favored clean lines and a look that was better suited to an art museum than a place of inhabitance. The sun shone behind thick blinds. The alarm clock on the nightstand beside him showed it was 8:27 am, Wednesday. January 23rd-

Ah, 2008.

The shrill ringing of the phone brought him back to the present. He jumped out of bed—oh Vishanti his hands were back—and jogged to the kitchen. He had been, and was still, a firm believer in keeping electronics out of the bedroom. It was for sleeping and fucking, nothing else, so it took him several seconds to walk to the kitchen counter that served as his charging area. He huffed in amusement at the Blackberry (he couldn't believe he'd owned one of those) and snatched up the iPhone. He wasn't a snob in the sense that he had to have the latest and greatest, but even he recoiled at the sight of the iPhone 3G. Christine's name shown on the screen and he took a moment to gather is breath before answering.

"...Hello-"

"Stephen?? Oh thank God, I was two seconds away from driving over. Where are you?" She sounded breathless with worry and although it wasn't his fault the familiar stab of guilt made him wince.

Now that Stephen thought about it, he'd always worked Wednesdays, and at 8:30 he should have been at the hospital for a couple of hours at that point. Damn.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "It appears that I have overslept?"

Silence settled over the phone line and he couldn't blame her. Ever since he'd started his career at 24 (skipping a good chunk of residency because sprinting through his training was a thing he did in addition to fighting against the inevitable) he worked as if he'd keel over and die otherwise. He was always early, stayed late, and he never, ever took a day off. It earned Metro-General, and him, a shit-ton of money, but it made him even more insufferable to be honest.

"You overslept?" Christine repeated.

"Surprising, I know. To think someone as meticulous as I would succumb to the trappings of humanity."

Christine laughed. "There he is. Thought I was talking to an imposter."

"Then I'm about to shock you even further. I'm taking the day off."

"...Are you dying? Stephen, are you—you're dying, aren't you? I can fit you in for some tests this afternoon-"

"No, no. Please, I..." Stephen ran his hand over his face—clean-shaven once more. "Christine, something did happen and I find myself at a loss. I'll tell you later, but I need the day off."

"You don't sound like yourself. Is there anything I can do?"

Stephen was once again reminded of all the ways he didn't deserve her. At this point they hadn't entered a relationship—wouldn't for two more years. The fact that he no longer had her watch caused an acute ache in his chest. But it wouldn't be right. She taught him so much, yet he wasn't good for at all. He had gotten the lion's share of good out of their relationship because he was a selfish bastard on top of being an asshole. Christine deserved better, and he'd see that she'd have it even though it would hurt.

"You're already doing enough being yourself," Stephen answered, voice soft. "Please inform the director and I will see you tomorrow."

"I—sure. Okay. I'll hold you to that."

"Thank you." Before she could express her shock over him thanking someone, he ended the call and sighed. He stared at his now pristine hands and wondered.

He raised a hand and with a bit of energy a butterfly appeared on his fingertip.

Stephen smiled.

Traveling to Greenwich Village using public transportation was...an experience. Stephen didn't have a sling ring and had a panic attack simply looking at his car. It was all of 10 minutes and a direct line once the damn thing came, but somehow the bus was traumatic enough that he might just chance driving again. It was possible to walk to Metro-General, nearly a straight shot, but...well, he'd think of something.

The Sanctum loomed before him and Stephen had to take a moment. It had been home, and although he had had to become used to its idiosyncrasies, it had been a place of safety. Well, its former master had died a gruesome death and the Hulk had smashed a hole in its ceiling. But it had been safe for the most part. Stephen approached and knocked. He allowed his magic to reach out against the wards—testing. He was relieved when the Sanctum greeted him like an old friend. The door opened and the still alive Master Drumm greeted him.

Stephen bowed and said, "I'm sorry to disturb you. I was hoping to gain passage to Kamar-Taj and speak with The Ancient One. It's urgent."

Drumm eyed him suspiciously, "And may I ask who seeks an audience with The Ancient One?"

"A friend." Despite Drumm's hesitancy he allowed Stephen entrance. The familiar hall lit up, causing him to smile. Drumm's eyebrows lifted.

"The Sanctum knows you. How? I have been here for over a decade but I have never seen you before?"

"You haven't. We have never met properly but it is nice to make your acquaintance, Master." Stephen jogged up the stairs and a few quick steps brought him to the display of relics. His heart thudded in his chest as he made a beeline towards one in particular.

"The Cloak of Levitation? What do you plan on-" Drumm startled when the Cloak came to life, twirling and banging on the glass in excitement. Stephen's face broke into a grin and he ran his fingers along the side of the case, dissolving the glass and freeing the relic. It zoomed around him in delight before cuddling close, pressing its lapels repeatedly over his cheeks. Tension he didn't even realize he'd had caused his shoulders to relax.

"Hello, hello. I missed you, too." Stephen had yet to determine just how sentient the Cloak was, but he somehow knew it remembered their time together that culminated in meeting The One Above All at the Crossroads.

Holy shit he'd met God. He'd probably never get over that.

After a final, obnoxious "kiss" it settled on his shoulders. He knew he must look a sight; the chill had forced him to wear a black overcoat on top of his old Columbia hoodie. Stephen turned to see Drumm's jaw slackened in disbelief. To his credit, the Master came back to himself quickly.

"The Ancient One, you say?"

Stepping through the gateway in Kamar-Taj undid the rest of the stress tightening his shoulders. The fresh air was a shock after experiencing New York pollution, as well as the blessed calm. Drumm could not leave the Sanctum unattended, but had promised to send a message ahead. Stephen stopped by the courtyard and watched the novices train out of nostalgia. If he failed this would be over. The One Above All was one of the few beings capable of sliding him into a timeline without so much as a ripple, but it wasn't as if they could keep doing it over and over without the entire thing falling apart like a wet paper towel. It was the nature of time—as one kept threading the needle in the cloth it would, inevitably, become more ragged as it was over manipulated. And the soul could only handle so much on top of that. As such he was only given this single chance to allow the universe to proceed naturally to its final end. No pressure.

"Doctor Strange." The Ancient One's melodious voice interrupted his musings. She stood beside him in robes the color of cream and periwinkle—wonderfully alive. He nearly cried at the sight of her. When their eyes met she startled. "Oh."

"We should speak," Stephen said.

"Yes. We should indeed." She looked him over and nodded. "Come."

He followed her back to her quarters. Stephen settled on a cushion before the low table. The familiar scent of fragrant tea took him back. It was never the same after she died. The Cloak was just as pleased, circling around her in joy, causing her to smile.

"It is good to see you again. I was worried you would sleep the centuries away."

The Cloak bowed before returning to Stephen's shoulders with a flourish.

"I—sorry, it's been years since I've seen you last," Stephan said, curling his hands around the small tea cup. The Ancient One nodded serenely.

"Then it is as I have seen."

"Yes."

The silence that fell was thoughtful.

"I am prepared. It has been long enough. But for you," she trailed off, eyes staring at his chest as if she could see his soul. Perhaps she could. "Tell me, Doctor Strange, what brings you here?"

And so he told her. Of the fights and deaths. Surviving Dormammu over and over until he thought his mind would shred itself from the strain. Of flying to the stars and being erased on a dusty planet. He told her about The One Above All and the one chance they had to prevent an unnatural collapse. Stephen spoke until he went nearly hoarse and the sky had turned into deep reds and oranges.

"I have only one chance and I—I'm not sure where to start."

The Ancient One hummed. "You have gone forward on Titan, over 14 million paths. But have you looked behind?"

Stephen straightened. "Looked to the past?"

"Yes. Time flows and the decisions we make affect what we experience down the line. The One Above All afforded you an opportunity by providing you with options. You had very little when you took that risk. Think, Stephen, who or what will improve your chances?"

Stephen rubbed his chin, wondering. That was true. The One Above All must have something in mind by putting him in this year. What could he...

The answer floated up in his mind.

"Tony Stark."

The Ancient One canted her head to the side. "Tony Stark?"

"He was the key to our winning chance. He was the one who ended the Chitauri Invasion." Stephen had been frantically tending to the wounded at the time, but he had watched, as did everyone, Iron Man fly a missile into the hole in the sky. Stark had been the face of the Avengers over the years—the only face, really. Bizarre, now that Stephen thought about it, considering the decades worth of content surrounding Captain America. But Captain Rogers had done very little in engaging the media, and none of the others made themselves as available to the public at all. It worked against them when Sokovia happened and Stark was the only one to be seen. 

Stephen had been relieved when the Accords were opened for public comment. Living in New York City was stressful enough without all the vigilantism and property damage that happened every week. Of course, once he'd had his accident his focus went elsewhere. That was a mistake in hindsight, as the Avengers had split around that time for reasons he did not know; though, Stark retained a great deal of influence. 

But, now, the man was no superhero. He was The Merchant of Death and racy subject of the tabloids Stephen glanced over while in line at the supermarket. Yet, Stark was the only one with the will, resources, political capital, and, well, genius to be instrumental in the defense of Earth.

"Tony Stark...hm. Perhaps...yes." The Ancient One nodded to herself and continued. "I have been thinking of this for a while, Doctor Strange, and after what you have told me, I believe it is time."

"Time?" Stephen asked.

"Our order has protected our planet from inter-dimensional threats for thousands upon thousands of years, since Agamotto walked the Earth with his mother, the Great Oshtur. We have operated from the shadows for our entire existence. But times have changed. The sheer technological leap within the past two decades alone have made the world so very small. And the technology will only become more prevalent."

Stephen nodded in agreement. The advances in personal communication alone was staggering, once put into perspective.

The Ancient One said, "Surveillance will become more widespread—cameras will increase in quality. It will only be a matter of time before our order is thrust into the spotlight."

"That's not wrong," Stephen muttered, remembering a certain fight with Kaecilius and his zealots.

"The other masters do not agree. They are hesitant. Conservative. But I know it is inevitable."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Our duty remains in fighting mystical threats and protecting the multiverse; however, it would be a moot point if Earth is ravaged to the ground and us with it. You spoke of a group of...heroes? The Avengers, yes?"

Stephen stared at her before shaking his head. "Oh no. Those so-called heroes might have saved more lives than not but they're a bunch of jacked-up vigilantes with a penchant for destruction and making my property taxes sky rocket." He had literally teared up when the bill came around the following tax year after The Hulk and some other monster tore their way through Harlem. 

The Ancient One smiled at him. "Do you know what your issue is, Stephen?"

"Where do I even start? If I list them out I might be done in an hour."

"You have a great deal of power. When I reached out to you I was nearly overwhelmed. But you lack experience, Stephen. You have spent lifetimes reliving the same events over and over again. Thousands of years may have passed but there was little variety in them. And to be frank you have much to learn—there are books and branches of magic you cannot conceive of. This isn't something that can be fixed by more reading—only time in the world and applying your skills can help. I dare say that's one reason why The One Above All sent you back. Not too far where the choices become unmanageable, but far enough for you to make up for this short-coming."

Stephen fell silent at her words. The truth of them drew him short; it was enough for him to self-soothe his ego at the implication that he lacked competence. That wasn't what she said, of course, but it still galled him.

"I believe this is a fine opportunity," The Ancient One added, "not only for our universe, but for our Order in particular. We can control how we enter the larger world—and how that world perceives us. When the time comes, you will be our liaison, so to speak. And in return you report what you observe and gain some much needed practice. You will learn to hone your strength from a sledgehammer into a fine surgical instrument." She grinned when Stephen snorted.

"Then I suppose I should get started."

Chapter Text

Stephen knew his faults well despite what Wong would say. He had unhealed trauma from an unacceptable childhood and watching his younger sister die, which resulted in crippling control issues, perfectionism, hyper-independence, atrocious spending habits, and a recklessness that would be suicidal if he weren't so fucking arrogant. (The arrogance had been a feature since his early teens—he was a genius and he knew it.) Stephen thought he'd done well in addressing them; he'd always be a work in progress and from what he'd read acceptance was a key-feature in self-love. So he got over it. But he was getting somewhat better at listening to others so he had taken The Ancient One's words to heart. The universe depended on him getting this right.

If experience was what he lacked, then he would do as he always did and brute force a solution.

It started at work. He could no longer, in good conscience, continue his behavior in only selecting patients he was positive he could fix. The thought of failure still made his heart clench and breath short; however, that was one area he could address immediately.

"I'm cutting down on my hours and opening up my schedule." Stephen announced at the weekly meeting the following Monday. He was amused to see the room freeze and stare at him as if he'd stripped naked and pronounced himself King of Metro-General.

Christine didn't look too bothered, having been made privy when he returned to work. She had tearfully accepted his excuse of a beloved mentor nearly working herself to death (close enough to the truth), and proceeded to make him feel like a real asshole by making dinner and being a comfort.

"I—you—what?" Nic sputtered.

"I didn't stutter...unlike what you seem to be doing," Stephen sighed as he gathered his papers together. "My typical work week is 70 hours, 10 above the average when compared to my peers and not even including my time being on-call. This is unsustainable and I'd like to eventually enjoy the money I'm making. If I give myself an aneurysm I'd have to subject myself to Nic's idea of treatment and that isn't something I'm willing to risk."

The Director coughed and snapped, "Strange, you can't simply announce that you're reducing your hours!"

"I thought you said you were going to inform him?" Christine asked.

"Yes. I just did," Stephen replied. Christine sighed and rubbed her temples. "Now I realize this is sudden. If my conditions can't be met I understand."

"Really?" Nic grumbled.

"Quite. I had taken the liberty of contacting NewYork-Presbyterian and they expressed interest in my coming aboard for a four day work week plus a 30 thousand dollar raise. I'd hate to leave you, Dr. Palmer, but my health must come first."

The Director folded, just as Stephen knew he would.

"And to think I thought you had changed," Christine said as they made their way down the hall. The familiar sights and sounds made him realize just how much he had missed his previous life. He had a different calling, now, but perhaps he could figure out a way to merge his two worlds together. That was for later, however.

"Hm? Changed how?" Stephen asked, somewhat distracted by the file in his hands. It held the records for a patient he'd never consider before, a simple twisted vertebrae, but he was trying. And, frankly, it was the right thing to do.

"You seemed softer. More considerate."

"I am soft and considerate. I am a changed man, I'll have you know. I didn't even steal one of Nic's patients within the past week; though, I really should have-"

"Stephen!"

"I am trying," Stephen said, voice going lower. "I have much to learn, still, no matter how I hate to admit that."

Christine smiled at him, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. She may be too good for him, but he was so glad he knew her. "Oh? You're admitting there's things you don't know?"

"Christine, please, no human knows everything. Even me." Stephen sniffed.

"Oh pardon me!" She laughed.

"You're excused, beautiful. By the way, starting next week, forward me the list of our terminal patients, would you?"

Christine's eyebrows shot upwards at that. His perfect record wouldn't last a week if he took on some of them as his patients. The best they had to look forward to was pain management as they waited for the end; but, that was the point. There were many things outside his control and success was never guaranteed. It was time for him to reframe what he considered to be failure and face his fears. The Ancient One had told him that held him back—and years later he had yet to make the lesson stick. 

He most likely couldn't do anything for those poor souls, at least along the lines of treatment. But there was more to medicine, to healing, than that; grim prognosis aside they were people who needed and deserved help.

"Stephen?"

"I will make little difference, most likely, but it's time I put this brain of mine to good use. I am the best, after all."

Christine stared at him, shocked, yet considering. Before she could utter a question a nurse from the nearby station called out to them.

"Strange? Director Fuller's on the line."

"Oh, great. He's found his revenge."

And the man certainly did—Stephen was impressed. Operating out of sheer, unadulterated spite was Stephen's specialty, and game recognized game, as the kids would say.

"Christine?"

"Yes?" She replied, her suspicion making her draw out the word.

"How would you like to be my plus one?"

She startled before busting out in laughter. "Oh, you must be fuming!"

"I can't stand galas and you know it." He tapped the file against the counter at the station with a sigh. Despite his status, his attendance at the various parties, fundraisers, and auctions was sporadic at best. He didn't like wasting his time around socialites who wouldn't know the meaning of hard work if it punched them in the face, and he had even less patience pretending to be interested in gaining their patronage. He was a neurosurgeon--he wasn't going to play checkup for some rich asshole no matter how well off they were. Metro-General had quickly learned his infuriating personality did them no favors with potential donors, so save for the ones he absolutely could not miss he was allowed to be absent. But it would seem Fuller didn't appreciate Stephen's power play earlier.

Considering Stephen got an additional day off and a raise he'd attend the gala with grace.

"I should let you suffer," Christine said, "but I'm not one to turn down good alcohol, hors d'oeuvres, and watching you alienate everyone you meet."

"You are being mean today. I'm a good influence on you."

"Ugh, don't. Just text me the time and date and when you'll be picking me up."

"Embrace the dark side, Christine!" He shouted after her. Fucking galas.

Stephen spent the rest of the week arranging his new schedule, and in the evenings, studying in what could only be described as a bizarre correspondence program. In the original timeline, the Ancient One's death had left Kamar-Taj rudderless and open to threats. The elder masters hadn't cared for him, save for Wong, but he'd been the only one left with the raw power to be a stop gap. Then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped and dusted. 

...Damn. Maybe The Ancient One had a point. 

Now she was sending him readings and assigning essays of all things; as if he hadn't had his fill of that when earning his doctorate and MD. But Stephen couldn't complain much. They were the subjects he should have been trained on before she decided to get herself stabbed by a former student and spend her remaining moments being mysterious in an alternate plane of existence. Giving Stark one last, cryptic message before becoming Dust in the Wind (Kansas, recorded July 1977 but released January, 1978) was one thing, but he had to concede she was on a whole other level. He respected that. 

By Saturday night he was in a somewhat good mood. The gala was a fundraiser to provide updated medical equipment to the hospitals serving Manhattan—all the better for him, to be frank. One of their MRIs was a piece of garbage that should be taken out back and shot for all their sakes. Stephen carefully selected his suit for the occasion. It was black tie so the Cloak had to make do with being a pocket square. He patted his friend in thanks as he eyed himself in the mirror. He was still clean shaven, as wearing a surgical mask with facial hair of any kind made him itch, and he still had trouble recognizing himself without the silver. He was in his 20s, so he could get away with styling his hair in a more windswept fashion. Not bad, if he did say so.

The drive to Christine's had been nerve wracking made worse by a little old grandma passing him by, giving him the finger as she did so. When he arrived without incident he sighed in relief. He could do this.

"You okay?" He jumped when Christine opened the passenger side door.

"I'm fine, actually. And you look marvelous. You very nearly outshine me."

"Screw you, I'm a catch." Christine huffed, securing her seatbelt.

"Does someone need a Snickers bar?"

"I told you: free alcohol and hors d'oeuvres. You're the designated driver and nothing more."

"Wow. If my heart weren't three sizes too small that would have gone right through the left ventricle."

"Just drive, Strange. And remember: we're there to get ourselves some new equipment so let me do the talking and you just stand there and look pretty. If I have to deal with that MRI machine any longer I'm taking it out back and putting it out of all our miseries."

Stephen smiled.

The gala was already in full swing by the time they arrived. Like she promised, Christine plucked a flute from a passing waiter and headed straight for the food. He loved her honesty the most. Stephen let himself grab a glass but resigned himself to sipping it throughout the night. He had no plans on being anything but stone cold sober behind the wheel. Stephen found himself a spot by the open bar and settled in. Christine had told him to look pretty and by the Vishanti he was going to do so.

As the hours passed he became less interested in his surroundings and more focused on his thoughts. The One Above All had given him time—over 14 million chances had been available to him moments before Thanos arrived. Now, that number must be astronomical. Both he and The Ancient One agreed in using that precious time to shore up their defenses and make moves in this brave new world. Stephen was confident on that front. He was far less optimistic, however, in regards to the Avengers. Would his joining make that much of a difference? Then again, why not? This was about creating opportunities, and facing Thanos with just one Avenger, a teenager, and a group of aliens had been like herding cats. They didn't even have the decency to be cute.

Well, Mantis was cute. And the Spider kid was precious. But other than those two it was a group of assholes forced together to fight a tyrannical maniac. How could he prevent that cluster fuck from happening? How-

"You know you're supposed to have fun at parties."

Stephen's eyes snapped up and met large brown ones. He knew that voice just as intimately as he knew his own.

Tony Stark.

Stephen would deny it later but his first instinct was to panic. He didn't closely follow Stark's career but everyone knew Stark Industries was based in California at this time. What the hell was he doing in New York?? Stephen was thoroughly unprepared—he had yet to decide how and when he should attempt to approach the man, yet here he was.

Admittedly, it was nice to see him. Stephen had had to watch him die so many times; and when they parted it was with the knowledge that Stephen had placed him on the path to his certain death. He'd hated it. He swore an oath to protect all life and he'd shattered it.

And so young. So heartbreakingly young and not yet beaten down by life. 

As these thoughts swirled around his head all he could do was stare. They must have stood frozen for a solid minute before Stark saved them both.

"You, uh, got an intense gaze there, Blue Eyes."

"So I've been told," Stephen murmured. "Well met, Mr. Stark."

"And quite the voice, too." He raised a hand to have his glass refilled. "Can I get a name?"

Stephen couldn't stop his grin. "Mm, I don't know. I should make you work for it. I was taught not to talk to strangers, after all."

"That so?" Tony said, smirking at him. The bartender was generous with the liquor yet Tony tossed it back with the ease of long practice.

"I was under the impression that you were intelligent. Was that just all talk?"

"Sweetheart, I can assure you I back up all my talk with action."

Stephen shook his head at the man's audacity and finished the rest of his drink. "Somehow I believe you."

"Can I get you another?"

"Unfortunately I'm the DD tonight so I'll have to pass."

"Damn. No wonder you looked like you were having an existential crisis."

That's because he was having an existential crisis, thank you very much.

"Now far be it for me to question the Great Tony Stark-"

"I am great, yes-"

"But is there anything I can help you with?"

The slow, cocksure smile promised all sorts of things. Stephen idly wondered how his life had turned into whatever the fuck was happening right now. Their first meeting had been a clash of egos; this one was promising to be even more interesting.

"I can think of several things, Doc."

"Doc? What makes you so sure?"

"I may not come to New York all that much but I still know the movers and shakers and you're not one of them. Which means you are a medical professional of some kind, given where we are, but you're too young to be on a board. And I know my suits and watches—you didn't spare any expense."

Stephen hummed. "Or, I'm a sugar baby."

Tony choked on his scotch.

"But you got it in one. I'm a surgeon and that's all you're getting out of me," Stephen said, taking pity on him. "But that doesn't explain why you're here, Mr. Stark. I didn't think your company had an interest in the medical device field."

"Maybe I'm here for the free alcohol and hors d'oeuvres."

Stephen had to muffle a snort in disbelief. What was with people and hors d'oeuvres? "You have far too many zeros in your bank account to drag yourself to a party with mid shelf whiskey—no offense." Stephen added when he saw the bartender raise an eyebrow. Then he changed his mind. "You know what? Full offense. My palette deserved better. So, what is it, Mr. Stark?"

"My company may do most of its business in weapons, but we do have a subsidiaries in other industries. Honestly I was in the city for something else, but one my business partners persuaded me to come and throw some money at a good cause. I figured it couldn't hurt." Tony leaned against the bar, the picture of power and wealth. He was the biggest fish in the room and he knew it. Many glances, surreptitious and not, were sent their way.

"I see. Regardless of the reasons I am glad you and your money stopped by. If we don't get a new MRI machine I'm certain two of my colleagues will quit in despair and another will commit a felony. I don't care about the first two but the latter is a friend of mine and I simply don't have the time to be covering up a crime."

Tony's lips twitched. "I agree, can't have that. Where do you work?"

"Nice try. I thought I said I was going to make you work for it, Mr. Stark." Stephen smirked at the way he had to gather himself. He might respect the man but that didn't mean he couldn't have his fun. "Figure it out and send over a nice, fat donation. If you can."

Tony's eyes had turned dark and Stephen wasn't sure he was much better. This was fun. This was- "My hotel room is across the street. How about we head on over and I can get started?"

Stephen laughed. "You are bold."

"And I like a challenge."

"So do I."

"Then you are going to love the next-"

"What, five minutes?"

"Ha! You're an insufferable asshole, you know that?"

"Mr. Stark, I am the insufferable asshole."

"Oh I can see that. Someone's going to have to do something about that mouth of yours."

"You appear to be offering."

"Like I said, Doc, I back up my talk. And my threats."

"I'm sure you do. Normally you'd have to be this tall to ride but maybe I can make an exception."

"You fucker," Tony said, voice filled with laughter. Then he set down his glass with a heavy thunk and leaned close. "You are absolutely coming with me." And that was an order.

Stephen masked his shudder. Who knew the man had it in him? He spotted Christine across the room, looking at them in interest. "Far be for me to refuse a Stark. There's just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"I'm the designated driver if you recall, and my friend looks ready to go. I'll have to cut this short."

Tony's jaw actually dropped when Stephen pulled away and straightened his suit jacket. "You have got to be-"

"It's been a pleasure, Mr. Stark."

With the confidence of someone who got the last word, Stephen strolled across the ballroom towards Christine. The look on her face assured he was going to get grilled on the way back. He miscalculated, however, as the moment he'd helped her into her coat she was on him.

"That was Tony Stark. Since when did you know him?"

Stephen shrugged. "I didn't. I don't. He happened to be in the city and swung by."

"Who just 'swings by' an exclusive event?" Christina huffed.

"Tony Stark, apparently."

"Apparently so." Then her expression turned sly. "You looked cozy."

"I was quite comfortable where I was. He was the one to invade my space. To think, all that money and no manners."

"Ah, yes, because you're the paragon of social niceties."

"No, dear, I'm an asshole. I thought we'd been over this."

Christine laughed and shook her head. "I'm surprised your egos fit the same room."

"What can I say? I have exacting taste. On the plus side, yours truly batted his pretty little eyes and secured a new MRI courtesy of Stark Industries." His friend squealed and slapped his bicep. "Ow, hey!"

"I knew you were good for something!"

"Wow. If my soul wasn't already blackened and cracked like a piece of old pavement that would have hurt my feelings."

"How did you manage it? Er, you didn't..."

"Christine, I am many things-"

"Tony Stark sure seemed interested in finding out what those things are."

"-but men like Stark thrive on being challenged. He was born into a life of luxury and wanted for nothing—materially, anyway; on top of that, he is also one of the smartest people on Earth. Take it from me, after a certain point normal is...boring. Easy. One needs to go to increasingly greater lengths to be stimulated."

"Ew."

Stephen smirked and continued, "All I did was give him a little puzzle to peak his interest. He'll solve it soon enough, if he hasn't already. The difficulty isn't the point."

"Then what is?"

"Delayed gratification. I have a feeling he's not used to people playing hard to get."

"You sound diabolical."

"Please. If he doesn't do the same to me I'd be disappointed. I also get bored easily, you know."

"I can't believe there are two of you," Christine grumbled, sinking low into her seat.

"Nonsense. I'm one of a kind, Christine. One of a kind."

Monday came with disgustingly sunny weather which in turn made his coworkers disgustingly peppy. Say what you will about the masters of Kamar-Taj but a little sun never turned their constant frowns upside down. He respected that. He took a sip from his coffee and slipped into the meeting room. He smirked at Nic, who flinched, and took his usual seat by Christine.

"Please tell me you aren't going to greet me with good cheer. I thought I had trained the nurses up front out of that but there they were, smiling at me."

Christine rolled her eyes. "You live a hard life, Stephen."

"I truly do. Where's our dear Medical Director, by the way? Shouldn't he be here?"

"He got a call earlier and had to take it."

"Hm."

"Doctor Strange?" One of receptionists poked her head in. "Oh, good! We got a delivery for you. Flowers."

Stephen blinked when she brought in a single, red orchid, planted in a tasteful, ceramic pot. He took the flower from her and opened the card.

'Found you.' - TS

"And," The receptionist continued. "There are more."

Stephen frowned and said, "More? How much more?"

"Er, the entrance is full of them. The delivery man didn't give me a name. He only said that you would know who the sender was."

"What the...what am I supposed to do with that many flowers??" Stephen exclaimed. "That douchebag!"

Christine snickered beside him, which he didn't appreciate. "Look on the bright side: it's sweet. And expensive."

"He wouldn't dare send me something cheap—not if he knew what was good for him."

"Of course not." Stephen could also do without her smug condescension. That was his purview. "We'll place them in tasteful spots around the ICU. Liven up the place a bit."

"Strange!" Fuller shouted as he entered the room.

Stephen blinked. "Whatever it was I probably did do it. But we both know you're not going to fire me so let's not dwell on the past."

"God you're insufferable," Nic muttered.

"Flatterer."

"You are a miracle worker, is what you are! I just arranged the delivery for three brand new, cutting edge MRI machines to completely replace the ones we have," said Fuller as the rest of the room burst out into applause.

"Can we still take a bat to the crappy one?" Someone called from the back.

"No, sadly. But if you want to give it a discreet kick before Thursday I can't stop you." Fuller turned and beamed at him. It was frightening, to be honest. Fuller had never approved of a thing he did before.

"Christine, he's baring his teeth at me."

"That's a smile, Stephen," she sighed.

"When I sent you off to that gala I assumed I would spend my Monday morning smoothing ruffled feathers," Fuller began.

"Then why send me?" Stephen asked.

"I wanted you to suffer."

"Fair enough. Continue."

"But lo and behold I get a call from Tony Stark himself. He sounded a little hungover, to be honest. Actually he sounded drunk. But who cares? His money is still as green as the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Johnson at Mount Sinai Queens is going to be so jealous. He's been unbearable since he got that research grant-" Fuller cleared his throat. "In any case. It seems you somehow managed to impress Stark."

"He may be a degenerate, but he's a genius degenerate. He admired my formidable intellect and commitment to healing the sick."

"...He also asked some odd questions. I think he was trying to see if you were single and interested in men."

"Well, this is awkward."

"Look, Strange. I like to think of myself as progressive. You will find no greater ally than I-"

"Oh God-"

"Metro-General does not discriminate and the happiness and well-being of our employees is one of our highest priorities. We are a family-"

"I hated my family."

"However, I think it would be nice if you could call the man back and give him our sincerest thanks." Fuller placed a card face down on the table and began to slide it towards Stephen.

"Dr. Fuller, it sounds as if you want to use me to get more money out of Stark."

Fuller gasped. "Dr. Strange! I am appalled and hurt you would say such a thing. I would never. HR would be furious! But here is his private number should you want to strike up a conversation. I don't care about what—it's none of my business. Although if you want my advice work seems like a good start."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Work. Hm. Like my patients, my research...or those X-Ray machines you've been trying to replace?"

"Like I said, it's none of my business. Now. Let's get started on rotations."

"Will you call?" Christina whispered.

Strange eyed the numbers on the card—jet black against white. He memorized them before tucking it in his breast pocket. He'd shred it later.

"Why not? You only live once."

Chapter Text

Golden orbs swirled in the air, tapped into the ley-lines of the planet and giving Stephen a view of places where a breach would occur. Although the hubs, so to speak, were stationary, the lines themselves flowed and changed. He had finally gotten it to work and was pleased with himself. This sort of spell could have come in handy many times in the past. The Sorcerer Supreme really had the best toys.

"It's strange," Stephen said as he channeled and manipulated the energies surrounding him.

"I am aware of your name, Stephen." The Ancient One quipped, ignoring his glare.

"I thought you were above such jokes."

"You thought wrong."

"I'm just wondering," Stephen continued, "what I could have done to change so much. I thought it would be years until I had the chance to properly introduce myself to Stark. Instead the man hits on me at a fundraiser."

"Oh, wonderful. You could stand to have some fun."

"This is serious-"

"Indeed. But life is meant to be lived. Why should we not indulge in joy and what brings us peace? Our duties are heavy, and truly have no end. As long as you are responsible, there's no rule saying you cannot have both. I do not want you to forget what we are fighting for, Stephen. Not like I have."

"Are you all right?" Stephen lowered his arms to face her fully.

"I have been thinking of my own decisions as of late—my own mistakes. I am glad you will be my successor. It is one thing to be serious about one's duties, but quite another to be so isolated. Stagnant. We preach about attachment and greed and materialism and all the human vices, but in the end it is we who  have succumbed to the most dangerous one."

"What is that?"

"Pride." She shut the tome she was consulting with a snap. "That will be all for today.

Tony Stark's number was branded in his mind.

The new machines were installed and the team was embarrassingly vocal about their excitement. Nic teared up a bit and Stephen was happy enough that he didn't mock him for it. Because he was a good person now. Christine had scoffed at him, yet Stephen knew it was important to acknowledge one's growth.

He was certain Stark was critical to his efforts, even if he wasn't sure on the details. Many things could go wrong. And this was more than fucking up a relationship or losing a patient—the universe was at stake. Yet not contacting the man would be even worse.

Fuck it.

Stephen had no idea when it would be a good time to call so he simply jabbed the number into his cell and waited. Two rings in, a familiar voice came on the line.

"Doc! Knew you couldn't stay away."

"Should I be concerned that you know my personal cell number?"

"Nothing like that (although I could have found that out no problem). You're the only person I've given my number to recently."

"Am I? I'm honored. I have officially peaked in life."

"You know I'm sensing a hint of sarcasm."

"Only a hint? I need to work on that."

"And your name! I admit, I thought it was fake at first."

Stephen rolled his eyes with a groan. He knew he would be spending the rest of his days listening to terrible puns, but some part of him that had yet to be crushed under the uncaring cogs of life still hoped for mercy. "If you say anything about my last name I am going to hang up on you."

"So your first and middle one are game?"

"Be quiet, Edward."

"Wow, we are spicy, aren't we? Tell you what: I'll be back in New York in two weeks. We should get together. Have some dinner, drink some top shelf whiskey, discuss your recent paper on neural regeneration-"

"You read that?"

"What, you think I couldn't?"

Hardly. Tony was the polar opposite of stupid but he was known for his work in computer science, electrical and mechanical engineering, not biology and medicine. Or perhaps he had an interest. Stephen couldn't claim to know everything about the man.

"I didn't expect you to bother. This may surprise you but neurogenesis isn't much of a conversation starter."

"Only if you're uncultured."

Stephen found himself muffling another laugh. "And if I started going on about my work on the division of neurons from progenitor cells in the hippocampus?"

"Ooh, talk dirty to me."

Stephen couldn't stop the laughter at that point, though he tried. "Good to know."

"So? You haven't accepted yet. Don't leave me hanging here, Doc."

"Hmm."

"Come on, you planning on making me work for everything?"

"Yes. It builds character. Besides, I have no doubt you've looked me up—you've probably got a nice report delivered right to your desk."

"I have a very efficient PA."

"It's fine. Someone in your position has little choice but to take such precautionary measures. And you have enough money to compile some sort personality analysis in addition to the usual background information."

Tony was silent for a few seconds before answering, "You're pretty good, Doc."

"Mr. Stark, please. I'm the best. But you no doubt know all about my quirks by now."

"Not gonna lie, you sound like a bitch on paper."

"And now that we've spoken?"

"I haven't really seen anything that disproves it."

"...Eh, true enough. Will that be a problem?"

"Shit, no. You're the most interesting person I've met in ages."

"I also find you to be...acceptable. A little above average, even."

"There's nothing average about me, sweetheart. So can I get a yes? If only so I can figure out what it'll take for you to shut up."

"Jesus Christ himself couldn't shut me up. Although, I suppose it wouldn't be fair if I didn't let you try. I believe in letting men have sporting chances. Two weeks from now, you said?" Stephen rolled his chair back to his desk to open his calendar. He had back to back appointments Monday through Wednesday, as usual, followed by his on-call days, and then a free day Saturday provided nothing went to shit. Sunday was when he met with The Ancient One for training. He wasn't involved in the workings of Kamar-Taj at this point; however, the masters were aware of him just in case. "I can see you on Saturday."

"Perfect. I'll pick you up and we can spend a night on the town."

"Right. And then you'll take me back to your hotel room."

"I joke but only if you want. I like my partners enthusiastic."

"I'm never enthusiastic about anything."

"Seriously?"

"The last time I expressed excitement was during med school. It was my second year and my father had been trying to contact me for months. I ignored him. Sometime later I had heard from our old neighbor that my father was dying and if I didn't come he would most likely pass alone and friendless."

"Well that's...dark. Did you go?"

"Nope. I spent that week partying. God has never answered my prayers before but He really came through that day."

"I honestly have no idea what to say to that."

"I'll pencil you in, Mr. Stark. I have no allergies nor real preference, so feel free to surprise me."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry, I'm still trying to wrap my head around what I just heard."

"About the absence of God in my life?"

"No, about leaving your father to die alone."

"Mm, yes. Late stage stomach cancer. It would have been slow and painful."

"That is incredibly fucked up—I can work with that. See you in two weeks, sweetheart."

"I look forward to meeting with you, Mr. Stark."

"You keep saying my name like that we might not make it to dinner."

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark."

Stephen stared at the black screen for a long time.

It took eight more days before he realized why he was so unsettled. It wasn't meeting Tony Stark far earlier than planned. It wasn't the stress of knowing he had one chance to prevent Thanos from being a stupid fucking piece of garbage and  murdering half of the universe. Who does that, really? Did aliens have no concept of therapy?

No, his problem was that he had grown...fond...of Tony Stark. He had only intended to have a bit of fun with a man smart enough to keep him engaged and not bore him to tears. They'd fool around a couple of times, then Stark would fall in love with Pepper Potts in an on and off again relationship that would culminate in a marriage and the birth of their daughter. If he did his job right Pepper wouldn't become a widow. Stephen would remain a bachelor until the end of time because he was shit at relationships. Nice, neat, uncomplicated.

But apparently his dumb ass couldn't accomplish that much. Fucking Tony Stark and his big, brown eyes. Ridiculous. It was why he found himself on the floor in front of couch, a pint of rocky road ice-cream clutched in his hands and a Lifetime movie playing on the big screen. If he was going to become a stereotype in a rom-com he was going to own it. Christine joined him soon after with her own pint of pistachio (on second thought, how could he have ever thought they'd last with those unfortunate choices?).

"You were cagey on the phone. Why are we doing this?"

"I'm seeing Stark tomorrow," Stephen said, glowering at the happily embracing couple on screen.

"That's good, Stephen! I mean, his reputation is a little eclectic, but surely those tabloids embellish a lot of details."

"I don't care about that. He can do what he wants. It's just I..." Stephen sighed, in disbelief that he had found himself in this situation.

"What is it?" Christine turned to him in concern.

"I like him."

To her credit, she only blinked several times before asking, "Okay?"

"You know, I have never felt this way before? With you, I was just warm and feeling cautiously optimistic about life."

Christine smiled. "Oh, Stephen. That's the sweetest thing you've ever said."

"But with Stark it's like I have a terrible case of indigestion coupled with heart palpitations. I nearly scheduled an appointment with Gastroenterology."

"And that was one of the weirdest things I've heard you say."

Stephen gestured to his phone currently lying face down on the table. "We've been texting every day. He's capable of discussing my work with me despite his lack of expertise. I'm actually looking forward to our date. It infuriates me."

"Stephen," Christine began, "are you telling me you're angry that you have feelings for someone?"

"Yes. I can see why people refer to it as a sickness. My organs have no reason to be acting so out of line."

"You know, Stephen, anger is known as a secondary emotion. There is usually an underlying cause for it."

"I didn't expect you to pull out the Psychology 101, Doctor Palmer."

"I'll have you know I got an A."

"So did I, which should tell you something."

"What are you afraid of, Stephen?"

The question cut through the air but sat between them like a ticking bomb. Stephen bowed his head and watched his spoon sink into the slowly melting ice cream.

"A lot of things, Christine."

He couldn't see her expression, but he allowed himself to be pulled against her side. They made it work despite the difference in height.

"Would loving someone be so bad?"

Stephen nearly answered in the affirmative, yet he paused. The past was important, vital, in shaping one's identity and providing lessons to be learned from. But it was never meant to be clung to. Never meant to be treated as an obstacle, a burden. He knew this. But that fear was so hard to let go of. How long would he let himself be chained by the weight of his regrets?

He loved Christine—still loved her. All he'd managed to do was hurt her. Stephen planned on spending the rest of his days making it up to her, even if this Christine was fortunate enough not to have to deal with his issues. Would Tony Stark be the same?

"Or, maybe you don't love yourself." Christine sounded thoughtful. "I don't know. But you deserve to be happy, Stephen."

Stephen pressed his lips together. Yeah. Maybe. The phone buzzed on the table. He reached over to pick it up. Another text from Tony fucking Stark.

"Is...is he asking what you're wearing?" Christine squeaked.

"Mm. He's been trying to get me to cooperate but I've been replying with the unsexiest of outfits. I think I'll be in a floral print muumuu today." Christine stared at him as he typed up his response.

"It's not like you to tease."

Stephen pursed his lips in thought. "Yes, I suppose not. But something in me loves torturing the man."

"Oh?" Her voice sounded strange but he chalked it up to his hearing things.

"And he seems to enjoy being tortured. We balance each other out."

Christine cleared her throat and patted his back. "You two do seem to, ah, fit."

"Annoyingly well." Stephen set the phone down and took a large bite of his rocky road. "He's a genius, handsome, outrageously wealthy, and sociable. I can't stand him. Douchebag."

"Have you tried being nice?"

Stephen stared at her. She sighed and stole a spoonful of his ice cream.

"I'll be here when he comes tomorrow," she continued.

"Aw, you wanna see if he treats me right?"

"Nope. Just wanna see if he's as cute up close. And it's not every day one has the chance to meet a celebrity."

"Hm." 

"And last piece of advice, I promise."

"Oh fine, go ahead. You're actually good with people."

"I just want you to try, Stephen. You won't get anywhere new if you keep doing the same things over and over again."

Stephen sucked in a surprised breath. The couple on the screen stare at each other from the across the room, music swelling as their eyes locked.

How was this his life?

Christine spent the night and the next day with him because she took his lack of agreement as carte blanche to do whatever the hell she wanted. She refused all attempts to get her to leave, instead selecting his outfit with all the seriousness of a mother sewing her daughter's dress for prom. He'd never tell her to her face, although perhaps he should, that he appreciated her presence as afternoon faded into evening. A part of him wondered if he was simply being affected by the novelty of it. It had been a long time since he'd went to bed with anyone, much less a handsome man. And Tony Stark was...Tony Stark. 

Then his heart began to pound the moment the doorbell rang and Stephen had to admit he was fucked and not in the way he thought he would be.

"I'll get it!" Christine shouted. Stephen shook his head and coaxed his cloak into a pocket square now that she wasn't watching him like a hawk. He really should name the poor thing.

"You're not Stephen," Tony greeted once Christine threw the door open.

"I'm Christine. And you are Tony Stark." She pointedly looked him over.

"Pleasure to meet such an enchanting lady."

"Uh huh." She smiled at Stephen as he approached, eyes twinkling with mischievousness. "A bit shorter than I thought, but he'll do."

"Are all doctors so...mean?" Tony asked.

"No, just me. I've been a bad role model," Stephen said. He adjusted his suit jacket to settle move smoothly over his shoulders. He may have preened a bit over Tony's naked approval.

"Are those suspenders?" Tony's eyes left a metaphorical fire over the path they took across his shoulders and chest. He hadn't yet regained the muscle he'd had in the future from the martial arts training he'd endured, but it was gratifying to be so desired.

"You're welcome," Christine said. "You two have fun. Stephen, I'll keep an eye on your luxury penthouse and make sure your expensive sound system is in working order."

Stephen smiled and said, "The truth will always out in the end."

"I'll have him home by curfew," Tony promised. He settled a possessive hand on Stephen's lower back and ushered him out the door.

"Nah—keep him until tomorrow. He'd cramp my style, otherwise," Christina said.

"What are you going to do in my apartment-" Stephen sighed when the door shut in his face.

Tony grinned. "She's a gem. Come on, car's waiting."

Indeed, a discreet black Mercedes was parked along the sidewalk. The smooth purr of its engine betrayed its expense. A man in a stiff black suit nodded at them and opened the rear door.

"Thanks, Hap. Stephen, this is Happy; Happy, Stephen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you...Happy?"

The man sighed and rolled his eyes in a way that spoke of long suffering. "It's Harold Hogan. I'm his bodyguard. He likes to give nicknames."

"Because you are a source of joy in my life! How long will it take to reach the restaurant?" Tony asked as he helped Stephen into the vehicle like a gentleman.

"With traffic, about 25 minutes."

"Better get going, then. And put the partition up."

Another sigh.

"Just so you know, my last name is still off limits," Stephen said as the car pulled away from the curb to join the flow of traffic.

"No problem. I've been told I'm very creative." Tony opened a compartment, because of course, and pulled out a bottle of brown liquor. "How about an aperitif?"

"Already getting into the top shelf alcohol part of the evening, I see. Pour me a glass—I need to make sure it's up to snuff." Stephen didn't even have to worry about spilling it; the suspension was so smooth not even New York potholes could shake them.

Tony laughed. "You're picky."

"Mr. Stark. One thing you should know about me is that I never settle for anything less than the best." His mother, before she disowned him, used to joke that he came out the womb an exacting little thing—his useless father called him prissy. But the need to excel is what gave him the determination to get out of his small, Nebraskan home town to a prestigious university on a full scholarship. It got him through med school at a meteoric rate. It's what drove his career in the operating room as well as the halls of Kamar-Taj. His attitude may have improved by leaps and bounds but he couldn't change that aspect of himself any more than he could change the color of the sky.

"Never?" His tone made Stephen take a closer look at him. In the low light of the car he looked the same—irreverent, confident. It took Stephen a moment to recognize the brittleness in his gaze. It was one reflected back to him every morning as he washed his face and wondered if this would be the day his mind crumbled from stress. How odd to see it in Tony Stark of all people. He knew better than to assume money solved all problems, yet that same larger-than-life personality that drew him in seemed to hide depths he had not considered.

"Never." Stephen reiterated. "Do you honestly believe I have the patience to go to dinner with a subpar individual? That I would waste my precious time and energy on someone I am not impressed with? I may not have billions but I'm quite comfortable financially and at the top of my field. Anyone I bother dating would be a complement to my success. Oh, this is good."

"Only the best for you sweetheart," the man simpered, eyes twinkling. Stephen wanted to punch himself in the face because how could a person's eyes fucking twinkle? "I'm glad to have made the cut."

"Hmph. Don't forget it. It'd be insulting if you did."

"Scout's honor."

"Were you even a scout?"

"As if dear old dad would have let me." Stephen knew there was a story there but he knew Tony wasn't up to sharing. "Hey, were you?"

Stephen grimaced and muttered, "Yes."

Tony's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "I can't see you as a scout?"

"I was definitely unfit. My dad made me join in an attempt to toughen me up."

"How'd that go?"

"I hated getting dirt under my nails and I insulted the Troop leader's intelligence. I had to stick with it up through high school. And then I got caught with my pants down with the pastor's son who was an Eagle Scout."

"...Holy shit-"

"I was disowned, but fortunately it was close enough to graduation that it didn't matter."

"Huh. So. Any chance I can get your pants down later?"

Stephen laughed and shrugged. "You're off to a good start, Mr. Stark."

As expected the restaurant was an exclusive one—so much so that those under a certain income bracket had no idea it existed. As such the security was tighter than some banks he'd been to. Crystal chandeliers sparkled in the warm light. Despite the expense all the tables on the main floor were full; each sported a crisp, white cloth and tasteful centerpiece with fresh flowers. The area was surrounded by low walls made of a dark wood engraved with ornate designs.

"We're over there," Tony said, nodding to an area off to the side. The maître d'hôtel himself guided them to their seats, assuring them of their privacy. He had the look of a man who would shoot a paparazzi, so Stephen believed him. Before Stephen had a chance to grab his chair, however, Tony reached over to do so for him. Another point in his favor. The menu had no prices but Stephen never let such a thing stop him. The part of him that thrived off nice things all but purred.

"I probably don't have to say this, but order anything you like," Tony said as he rubbed his hands together and toyed with his fingers. Stephen, kindly he thought, didn't ask him about it.

"I was going to, but I suppose it's best to get confirmation," Stephen replied instead. Pasta dishes tended to be a bit too heavy for him, but he'd need the carbs for later.

Better load up just in case.

"Ah, a man who prefers to ask for forgiveness."

"Jokes on you I rarely even bother with that."

The meal was divine, of course. Perfectly prepared with just the right amount of seasoning. Carefully measured and balanced proportions. The company was even better, as Tony appeared to have settled down from whatever had him bothered earlier. He smiled often and with ease. Stephen had no way of knowing if that was normal, but he liked seeing it. It made his own smiles come out with a frequency that wasn't like him—he knew that for certain.

They chatted through dessert and coffee and stayed so long that the restaurant had emptied and the maître d'hôtel discreetly informed them of the late hour. Tony gave them an extra large tip as an apology before escorting Stephen to the car.

"So, what do you think, hotel-"

Stephen leaned down and kissed the idiot. Tony wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his waist and deepened it, now that he was back in familiar territory.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Mr. Stark," Stephen breathed when he was let up for air.

"You've gotta stop calling me that in that voice. I own a company, my wires are gonna get crossed." Tony jerked is head. "My hotel is real close. We're gonna have a lot of fun."

"Show me, then."

"Anything I should be aware of?"

"I'm certain you're not going to do anything too hardcore for our first get-together. I'll even let you top." He'd actually never tried it before—debilitating control issues—but why not? This was a timeline of firsts, after all.

Tony's eyes sharpened for the first time that night. It reminded Stephen of their first meeting.

"'Let me'? You know you've been giving me attitude for weeks."

"It's my default setting. As I've said before: if you think you can do something about it, I would love to see you try. Fair warning, no one's succeeded."

"I bet. Get in the car."

Stephen Strange was man enough to admit he was wrong.

It turns out that Tony Stark had been trained in several different martial art styles for about two decades after one too many kidnapping attempts. It gave him a strong grip, an ability to manhandle despite the height difference, and a stamina that was to be admired. The smugness, however, was inherent in his personality. Stephen figured he deserved to be and he couldn't bring himself to be mad at it. It would be plain hypocritical, otherwise.

Guess he was a bottom. He didn't think this was what the Ancient One meant about discovering one's joy...or perhaps it was? She seemed to know everything. That would be mortifying.

Tony was a hot, heavy weight on his back, calloused hands kneading sore muscles with just the right amount of pressure. Frankly, Stephen had no idea how the man was still awake. He, however, was losing the battle fast as the sounds of New York played in the background.

"Stephen?"

"Um hm?" He murmured. His eyelids felt like lead weights. He tried to pay attention but Tony should have really done this before pounding him into the mattress.

"This is weird...different...strange."

"Mmph, fuck off."

"Heh." Tony trailed off and Stephen finally let go and sunk into the realm of sleep. However, he thought he heard one last thing,

"Stay with me?"

Chapter Text

"-and your two o'clock had to reschedule for tomorrow morning. Todd down in R&D really needs you to sign off on—you are not listening to a word I'm saying."

Tony slowly brought his attention back to the present, where Pepper was staring at him. This was such typical state of affairs he honestly wondered what made her still bother; especially as it was ass o'clock in the morning. It's not like he didn't try but sometimes focus was impossible. He admired her determination, regardless.

"To be honest I kinda zoned out once you started talking about Simpson. His reports are insomnia cures."

Pepper frowned, then she sagged. "They really are. I dread them every month."

"Yup. So as you can see it is not my fault at all." Tony checked his phone once more. That ended up being a mistake as Pepper immediately zeroed in on it. She sighed and pointedly sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"Okay, what did you do?"

Tony blinked and said, "Huh?" Like an intellectual.

"Where do I need to send the NDAs? Which lawyers am I contacting? What statement should PR draw up?"

"Pepper. First of all I am so hurt at the sheer lack of faith in my person."

Pepper stared at him.

"No, seriously! I haven't done anything this time!" Well, nothing bad. Something in his face must have finally convinced her. Tony began to relax, only for her expression to turn canny.

"Does this have anything to do with the flowers you ordered?"

Tony cleared his throat. He suddenly found the painting on the far wall to be fascinating. "Flowers? What flowers? Do I look like a man who sends flowers?"

"No, seeing as I'm the one who always orders them for various occasions-"

"And you do a wonderful job. Gold star."

"But someone located a florist and ordered a large number of expensive, out of season red orchids and had them rush delivered to a hospital in New York."

"I have no idea what you mean-"

"I am literally staring at the invoice-"

"That could be anyone's-"

"With your credit card number and signature on the receipt-"

"I would like to plead the fifth-"

"This isn't a court and you'll find me to be less lenient."

The phone buzzed. He'd been waiting for that for hours, so of course he gets a response right when Pepper's living out her bad cop fantasies. To be fair he often had those, too; only his tended towards x-rated and he usually wasn't the one in the hot seat.

"What was that?" Pepper asked, nodding towards the phone.

"Nothing."

"Don't mind me. It could be important—you should see who it is."

"It would be unprofessional of me."

"And you are always so professional."

"Completely and utterly."

"Mmhmm. And I'm sure it has no relation to that doctor you had me run a background check on? Who just-so-happens to work at that hospital? The same one you donated those machines to?"

He knew where this was going. Tony, far too late, jumped up. He snatched his phone off the desk and headed towards the door. "I'm out. I knew it—this was a trap!"

"Get back here Tony!" Her heels clattered on the linoleum—how did she even run in those things—as she made chase. The sight of him running from Pepper Potts was a common occurrence in the halls of SI, so no one bothered interfering as he made a beeline for the elevator.

"A little help?" Tony asked an employee. The poor girl froze before quailing under Pepper's glare and shuffling off. "Wow. Abandoned to my fate. And you shouldn't be so mean to the staff, Pep."

He jabbed the down button. The elevator was on the first floor because fuck him, apparently.

"Tony." Pepper's voice was soft. Tony groaned and tried to will his stomach into cooperating. What the hell was happening to his organs? Another buzz had him looking at his phone. He tried to mask the smile creeping up in response to Stephen's text but he failed. He saw her expectant look and sighed.

"I don't do feelings, you know," Tony said, sudden and without prompting. "They're messy. And they've never done much for me except fuck me up in ways I don't care for." The elevator dinged when it arrived, but neither he nor Pepper boarded.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling things," Pepper said after a few moments of silence. "That's just part of being human."

"I hate it."

"That's a feeling."

"I don't need your guff, Potts." Tony's heart still fluttered (just a bit) when she smiled. He'd never known what to make of it before, and now it didn't feel quite right anymore.

"You always need my 'guff,' Mr. Stark. But, Tony—this is the first time I've seen you this serious about…well."

"Don't think too hard, Pepper," sighed Tony when she had trouble finishing her sentence.

"I'm glad, actually. This doctor of yours—he sticking around?"

Tony had wanted to ask. Every time they messaged each other; every time they spoke on the phone he wanted to ask. People rarely stayed with Tony Stark once they got whatever they needed out of him.

Then again, Stephen wasn't the sort to put up with anything or anyone he didn't want to.

"I like to think he will," Tony said eventually. "Fuck, I didn't even know if he liked flowers? I had to call five different stores to find one that had the exact color I wanted with the ability to get more."

Pepper nodded, her expression fixed into something encouraging. "Why red orchids?"

"That's what Howard gave Mom."

Pepper stared at him in shock; she wasn't as shocked as he had been when the memory floated up and he'd been unable to let it go. He didn't know why—Stephen could have been like the others, after all. Or even better, gotten freaked out because Tony had never half-assed anything a day in his life and he went hard when something caught his attention. But, it had seemed fitting. While Howard was a shit father, he was an excellent partner. Tony couldn't find fault with how much he'd loved Maria. No matter the projects and the fights and everything else there had always been a red orchid on their wedding anniversary. 

He'd kept that detail close to his heart—then it had gone forgotten in the pain of losing them both. When he saw Stephen Strange with his blue eyes and infuriating smile and the splash of color against his breast it came floating back. That shade of deep red had reminded him.

Tony had always been drawn to red.

"Howard had said he'd taken one look at her and he knew. He never even glanced at anyone else afterward. I didn't get it then," He continued.

Pepper nodded, then shifted the stack of papers in her grasp to pull out a newspaper from the bottom. She held it up for him to see.

"You should make sure."

The headline, "Tony Stark's Newest Fling??" stood out in thick, bold serif.

When Stephen Strange set a schedule he never deviated from it. These days he rose with the sun, brewed himself a cup of tea, and opened a portal to Kamar-Taj for training. The physical exercise did wonders in waking him up and putting him in the right mood to start the day. After a shower he was off to Metro-General for his morning appointments. Recently he was in the habit of shooting off a quick text to Tony—usually asleep on the West Coast. If he was in the midst of one of his work binges Tony was quick to reply with something that sounded borderline unhinged. Sleep deprivation? Creeping madness? Stephen didn't know but was hardly one to judge. 

For once, however, Stephen found himself a little sad that the weekend was over. Their Saturday night date had stretched into the next morning, and then Sunday afternoon and evening. Only their respective jobs cut their time together short. The Cloak hadn't been thrilled—Stephen would have to talk to it, soon. It'd be all for nothing if it strangled Tony in an over-protective pique.

Now it seemed content to act as his tie as he strolled into Metro-General the following Monday morning. He picked up his usual order at the coffee shop and slid into the room right behind Nic, who scowled at him. Stephen supposed a few weeks of (better) behavior wasn't enough to counter years of…critique. It's not that Stephen thought Nic was bad—he was simply the height of mediocrity and Stephen had very little patience.

"Your coffee, your highness." Stephen set down the cup in front of Christine and slid into his seat. He winced when his lower back twinged. He may have had a very enjoyable weekend but the consequences seemed a bit harsh in daylight. Wasn't Stark supposed to be nearing 40?

"I could get used to this," Christine took a sip of her overly sweet drink and Stephen still could not believe he had ignored her questionable taste.

"You're welcome. No thanks necessary," Stephen sighed as he sipped his tea. He rolled his eyes when she patted his forearm.

He and Christine usually chatted before the Director graced them all with his presence; yet, the rest of the room felt different this morning. The other doctors and various nurses were muttering quietly. Their gazes darted in his direction when they thought he wasn't looking. Stephen had pulled a number of shenanigans during his time at MG, but he had been on good behavior, lately. He even encouraged one of the interns the other day—she'd cried at first, but he'd rallied and fixed it. She was fine now. Most likely. Then again, Stephen Strange making someone cry was old news at this point, so what-

"Stephen, did something happen?" Asked Christine, leaning close.

"I haven't done anything." He sighed at her disbelieving stare. "For once."

"So Stephen Strange doesn't read the news?" Nic asked mildly, eyes on his own paper.

Stephen's jaw ticked. Sometimes Nic got this tone that made him want to snarl. He opened his mouth to respond only for Christine to jab him in the ribs. "Ow! I didn't say anything!"

"Yet. You always get this look on your face when you're about to hurt somebody's feelings." Huh. That was good to know. "Anyone want to share?"

"Sorry, Chris," one of the nurses grimaced and passed over what appeared to be The Daily Bugle.

"Don't I get an apology? And since when were you Chris?" Asked Stephen as she flipped it open to the front page.

"Since I was five years old, Stephen—oh!" They both stared at the headline and picture. Even at night the city was well lit, so Tony's face (and facial hair) was still distinctive. Stephen's was only in profile, but anyone who'd met him would recognize it. They were leaned against each other with Tony's hand clearly wandering. Stephen remembered that he'd managed to get a grope in before they entered the car. So incorrigible.

"Christine, I may actually have to thank you."

"Don't strain yourself. But for what?"

"I look amazing in that suit. I wasn't certain at first when you paired that jacket with those slacks, but the risk paid off."

"He did seem to like the suspenders."

"Oh they came in handy."

"Ew. More importantly, they already managed to ID you," Christine noted as she skimmed the article. Stephen wasn't surprised. He wasn't Tony Stark famous by any means, but he was well-known in certain circles. His previous drive for glory meant he hadn't exactly taken any means to hide himself.

"I don't think I've ever been referred to as a 'dalliance,' before. I suppose this is it for us, Chris."

She laughed. "Looks like my chance has come and gone. What, with the way the writer waxes poetic about you gazing into Tony Stark's eyes-"

"I'm beginning to feel ill. Perhaps I should see Gastroenterology."

"Wait a sec," Nic leaned forward in his chair. "You mean to say it's true?"

"You were right here when it all went down, Nic," Stephen sighed. "Remember the MRI machines? You're welcome. It's good to know I can still make you shed a tear." Nic reared up in affront but one of the surgical assistants stepped in.

"Stark's not exactly known for his stability, Dr. Strange," she said kindly. "Drunkenly buying an expensive gift to get into someone's pants, sure. But he hasn't had a 'dalliance' in ages, if memory serves."

"First of all, can we all take a moment to appreciate that I refrained from mocking your use of air-quotes? It was a close thing, but I persevered. Secondly, a single state-of-the-art machine alone is around three million dollars," Stephen said. "This doesn't even count installation costs. Granted, as he's a billionaire, he no doubt recouped that over the weekend while sipping cocktails, but I'm pretty sure he's serious."

"Don't forget the flowers! That was so romantic," Pamela, from their paediatrics ward, sighed. "Filling the lobby with such gorgeous orchids? We all know those tabloids invent the nastiest things—we should give the man the benefit of the doubt. And I've been married for over twenty-five years—you can't fake that look. Oh, you two are so precious."

"Didn't he call Stark a douchebag for that?" Nic asked.

Pamela waved her hand, "It's Stephen—that's practically a declaration of love." Stephen twitched when most of his coworkers shrugged and murmured in agreement.

"Yeah, Stephen's an asshole like that-"

"-got me feeling pity for a billionaire of all people-"

"He wouldn't be our Dr. Strange if he didn't-"

"Honestly? Tony Stark might be the one in trouble-"

"It makes so much sense—who knew insults could be a love language?"

"This has officially become the worst timeline," Stephen muttered, sipping the rest of his now lukewarm tea.

"They actually mention the flowers, too. Someone managed to connect the dots. Goodness, only the devil works harder than the Bugle," Christine said. She was being a bit too peppy about this in his opinion. 

"Oh, Dr. Strange? A lot of people are talking about you on that Twitter thing! You should get an account," suggested a CNA as she tapped on her phone.

"No way, Diane. That place will become a cesspool, mark my words," their nephrologist said. "I don't trust this 'social media' and neither should you."

"For god's sake, John-"

"I don't think he should. Some of this stuff is mean and gross," muttered another surgical assistant. "It's 2008 for fuck's sake."

"I mean, it was funny at first, but people aren't gonna leave you alone." Christine bit her lip in worry.

Stephen tapped his fingers on the table before him and shrugged. "I'll handle it."

The text to Tony went unanswered but Stephen didn't let that bother him. Yet. A message from the Ancient One, however, had him discreetly making a portal to Kamar-Taj from a supply closet (oh the nostalgia). When he stepped onto aged stone he saw scores of sorcerers in various stages of upset and unease. The white robes of the initiates were absent, leaving only the various colors of the more experienced adepts and the Masters. The air was filled with static and his hair began to rise.

"Stephen," The Ancient One greeted as he approached. As if she had invited him over for a spot of tea and a stroll and not whatever cataclysm that was about to befall them.

"Something's coming," the words fell from his lips without thought but then his mind caught up. He felt it in the pressing inside his skull and his mouth filled with the taste of saffron.

"Indeed. Can you see it?"

"Are we seriously having a lesson right now?"

"No time like the present," she said. Stephen exhaled, slow and steady and let his ego mind drift to the backseat. The magic of the others curled about them in various colors and strength. He recognized Wong's and Karl's immediately and his heart ached. The Ancient One's was, of course, in a league of her own—as if looking at the sun for too long, but that's not what Stephen focused on.

Meters above their heads was a ripple. It was dark, like pitch, and it oozed a malevolence that made his chest constrict. The sheer vileness of it slid across his senses yet drew him in like a moth to flame. Stephen found himself walking down the steps and approaching the thing attempting to breach their dimension.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Stephen murmured. The ripple seemed to sigh—and then it cracked open with a roar. A thick, grey-green tentacle shot through the tear, aimed right for his head. Instinct and muscle memory saved him. The Shield of the Seraphim cracked with the force of the blow, the tip of the appendage spearing the center but not breaking through.

The battle began. Three more tentacles managed to squeeze through and batted a swath of sorcerers away. Spells and eldritch magic soon filled the air. The lower ranking adepts concentrated on the tentacles with a few masters supporting, while the highest ranking elders joined the Ancient One in constructing a barrier around the rift. Stephen quickly lifted his right hand and loosened his tie.

"Time to get to work, my friend." The Cloak transformed in the next instant. It settled on his shoulders and yanked him back before another tentacle pierced the spot where he was standing. Realizing the first tentacle was still stuck in his shield, he raised both hands and spelled the mandala to spin like a discus. Inhuman shrieks filled the air as the tentacle, unable to stand torsion, was ripped from the body. Purple ichor gushed from the wound. The stone sizzled and turned black from contact. The tentacle flopped once, twice, before shriveling up like dried grass.

The smell nearly made him vomit.

"Steady!" A master shouted as a few of the adepts were distracted by the sight and horrific sounds.

"Protect the Ancient One!" Another shouted. But Stephen could see; he could read the air and he knew, instinctively.

"The seal…It's going to fail," he breathed.

"Har l'oc hem so rah!" A voice from beyond the tear boomed. Some clutched their ears and doubled over in pain. Stephen himself winced as the sound made his mind scratch. Not unlike The One Above All. How could this be similar?

More inhuman screams caused many sorcerers to drop like flies. Stephen summoned two white discs and flung them at the creature. Another tentacle fell.

"Mordo!" He called. His once teacher and friend whipped around at the sound of his name. "Clear the area and protect the Ancient One! I'm going to cast a spell and I need space."

Mordo hesitated—not knowing him and not sure if he could trust his orders, but seeing the injured and falling had him moving. Stephen summoned more whips and took to the air. He dodged and swerved and worked to buy time for the able-bodied to take the wounded to safety. The shouting grew angrier and more unholy as seconds passed. Stephen's head throbbed—he pushed through.

And then the tear opened large enough to reveal a gigantic eye. The amber-red iris settled on him and Stephen froze as their gazes locked. Images flashed across his mind. He was in a desert  baking under the sun; then cutting his way through a thick forest. He stood in rocky wasteland and through it all he saw this big, terrible eye. The Cloak tried to wrench him back but the remaining tentacle was faster, wrapping around him and squeezing. His arms were pinned to their sides—he'd be casting no spells that way.

Stephen screamed as his bones ground against each other and his magic worked to keep him from being pulverized. His head—shit, his head! The sensation of something drilling into his frontal lobe worsened.

"Shugritha yarr'ka," The words seemed to fill his head and he groaned as it felt like a balloon ready to pop. The cracks were growing larger, deeper. It was going to burst; he was going burst.

And, suddenly, the words made sense.

"It is you I felt. I see, now—it has been millennia, hasn't it? Did you think I would never return? I am the emptiness outside all understanding. I am-!" The tentacle squeezed and Stephen's mind finally, after thousands of years, shattered.

Peace. His head lolled back with a sigh as the agony faded away and left only serenity. He had not known how much pain he had been in until it blessedly faded. He saw the rainbow colors of the universe sway and flit about like hummingbirds. He saw space and the mass that was Eternity. He saw his third eye open wide and its blue iris roll as his mouth formed an incantation he had yet to study in this life.

The Flames of Faltine burned white hot. 

The tentacle turned to ash and the eye shrieked. Stephen watched his body sink to the ground with a detached air. He did nothing as the banishment spell finally took hold and the ripple smoothed into nothingness. When he came to, it was to the Cloak swaying side to side, holding him as he gazed into the cloudless blue sky. The Ancient One came to a stop beside him and peered down at him.

"Not bad, Stephen."

"The answers are somewhere inside of me," Stephen murmured, exhausted, "but I still must ask: why was It here?"

"And you know my response to that."

"Hmm." Stephen sat up and stretched. The lack of pain made him light-headed and loose in a way he hadn't felt since—well, before Donna. "I feel as if I could sleep for a week."

"Rest, Stephen. You've saved a lot of lives today."

Stephen shook his head. "From what it sounds like, my magic caused it to stir in the first place."

"Hm. No seal lasts forever. But, for now, rest."

Stephen nodded. He looked up to see some of the masters staring at him. Mordo, in particular, looked perturbed.

He returned to a quiet apartment and still no word from Tony.

"You know," he told the Cloak as he grabbed some yoghurt from the fridge, "if I were an insecure man I'd be worried about my lover's sudden silence the moment after I put out. Repeatedly."

The Cloak nodded and snuggled up against his side. Stephen groaned as he sank deeper into the plush couch cushions. The pain may have left but he wasn't in any shape to do anything for a few days. He'd have to reschedule his appointments—damn, he really needed an assistant. Billy wouldn't be along until 2013. As for Tony, he'd reappear when he wanted.

Stephen couldn't believe he was only getting started.

Tony stared at the empty whiskey bottles littering his lab. The Jericho project was nearing completion—he'd had a breakthrough days ago with his repulsor tech and fell down the rabbit hole of development. It also had the much needed effect of distracting him from his problems. He picked himself up from the old couch he kept for the times he passed out and staggered towards the stairs.

"Sir? Your blood alcohol level is-"

"Thanks, Jarvis, 'm aware."

"And you haven't eaten anything today," Jarvis continued. "Ms. Potts has left several messages."

"I'm aware, Jarvis."

"As you say, Sir; and yet, you persist."

Tony sighed and slumped against the kitchen island. He couldn't even remember why he'd come up here.

"M' head is pounding."

"I wonder why, Sir."

"Hey, Boss," Happy greeted as he strolled in from the hallway. Tony saw the Burger King logo emblazoned across the bags and straightened with some effort.

"Hap? What're you doing, here? And thanks for the warning, J."

"You are most welcome." Shit, Jarvis must be displeased if he was being this sassy.

"Pepper called and asked that I made sure you were still alive. Figured you'd want the grease," Happy answered.

"Great. Exactly what I need before my hair of the dog." Tony made grabby hands as his bodyguard and friend tossed his order onto the stone countertop.

"All right, Boss. You know I like to leave things alone but some bee got into your bonnet."

"Really? That's the expression we're going with?" Tony shoved several fries into his mouth.

"Hey, I'm not gonna take any judgments from a guy who smells like a broke down distillery wrapped in sweaty man-pain." Happy bit into his double whopper with relish.

"Funny."

"Pepper thinks it's got something to do with that news story from earlier in the week. So what happened? Did that doctor get upset?"

Tony busied himself with stuffing his burger in his mouth but the thing with Happy was that he was patient. He rarely pushed and would be perfectly content to wait him out. Tony, being himself, tried anyway. Happy only hummed and sipped his milkshake.

Tony lasted three minutes. "I dunno if he's upset," he finally muttered.

"How come?" Asked Happy.

"I kinda stopped answering his texts on Monday, and it's now Thursday, and he's probably gonna have his doctor friend remove my organs."

"Why? You like him. And he seems nice-um," Happy paused and tried to find his words. "Well maybe not…Er, he seemed to like you well enough."

Tony snickered at his friend's attempt at diplomacy. "Yeah, he did, didn't he?"

"Okay, good. So what's the problem?"

"I sent him flowers?"

Happy frowned. "That's what's usually done, right?"

"You don't get it. I gave him flowers. Red orchids." Happy clearly did not get it and waited for him to continue. "Hap, come on. It's me."

"Yeah, so?"

"I'm not partner material. Stephen says he only goes for the best but what if I'm fooling the guy?"

"…Does he look like a guy who's easily fooled?"

That was a marvelous question and Tony hoped Stephen never found out about it. "Uh. No."

"Boss, I'm not good with all that but if it really bothers you then you should, I dunno, fix it." Happy finished by dunking an onion ring into his milkshake like the mad lad he was.

Tony frowned (and not just at the disgusting thing he had witnessed). "Fix it?"

"Yeah. I mean, I like you just fine, so does Pep and Rhodey, and this Strange guy does, too. But you're clearly worried about something, so take care of it. That's what you do, right? Fix shit."

Tony groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. He grimaced when he remembered they were still covered in oil and salt. Figures.

"God, it's like I'm fucking 18 years old again. Did you even read what they wrote? They brought up a list of Tony Stark's Greatest Hits and rubbed it in my face. Right there in black and white and with bullet points for easy consumption! They think Stephen's some piece of ass I'll discard in, like, a week. He must have seen that."

"You're 38, now. That should count for something."

"I don't feel like I've changed all that much."

Happy hummed. "Listen. My Pops, god rest his soul," they bowed their heads briefly in a moment of silence, "believed you gotta grab shit and take care of it with your own, two hands. That's what being a man was all about. You think you need to make a few changes? Then make them. Be a man, Boss. Handle your business."

Tony stared at his friend and bodyguard for a long time. Then he nodded. "You're fucking right."

"'Course I am." The sound of a straw scraping along the bottom of a cup didn't even faze Tony.

"I'm a changed man."

"Damn straight, Boss."

"I fix shit."

"Sure do."

"This must be what Stephen meant."

"Y'should listen to us."

"I'm—fucking goddammit." Realization sank in, making Tony freeze in horror. He whispered, "I haven't spoken to him since Monday and now there's been a week's worth of articles and tv segments talking about my commitment issues and all the people I've gone to bed with."

Happy hummed. "Yeah, can't help you there."

"Hold on, I gotta think." Which was easier said than done with the lack of sleep, alcohol, and the way his thoughts would scatter like buckshot whenever he was coming off a science binge. Tony paced for a solid minute before turning around. "Hap! Call the airfield and get the jet ready! I'm gonna 'Say Anything' this shit."

"Before you piss off his neighbors, John Cusack, maybe brush your teeth and take a shower first? There are limits."

Tony crashed on the jet, which was a good thing, as he couldn't quite remember when he'd had a proper REM cycle. Happy had thought ahead and packed an extra suit for the occasion, in case Tony's groveling would require a really expensive meal. Probably. It was late afternoon when they pulled up to Stephen's weird apartment building. Penthouses were traditionally top floor residences until good ol' capitalism had developers begin twisting the definition into very interesting ways. 

Stephen's relatively new building took advantage of that by having multiple "roofs" with penthouses across several floors. Stephen told him he opted for the lowest one, fifth floor, because he actually enjoyed hanging out on the small terrace and people watch. Tony didn't get it, but he was glad as his plan wouldn't work otherwise. The time was perfect as well—he had just enough sunlight to make this work. Happy glanced back at him.

"So, what's the plan?"

"I literally told you the plan hook this up to the console and crank up the volume."

To Happy's credit he didn't even bat an eye as he did as he was told. "Peter Gabriel is a treasure. Is Mr. Strange even home?"

"Questions like that are why I pay you the big bucks. But, yeah. I had Jarvis ping his cell just to make sure." Tony paused. "Is that ethical? Not too creepy?"

"I wouldn't tell him."

"Good call. Hit it!"

Tony sprang from the car and leaned against it while the opening chords to "In Your Eyes" blasted from the expensive speakers. He briefly waved at the receptionist who was clearly filming the spectacle. She wasn't the only one and Tony knew he'd end up on Youtube (again) but it didn't matter.

The chorus had nearly ended by the time Stephen came outside and peered down at the street. He wore a ratty Queen t-shirt, a red housecoat, and an expression of sheer disbelief.

"What are doing?" He shouted. Tony quickly signaled for Happy cut the stereo and spread his arms.

"I come begging for forgiveness!"

"You ignore me for four days and decide that a boombox outside my window is the answer??"

"Sweetheart, I have made a terrible mistake! I am bereft without you! A ship with no anchor!"

"Oh for fuck's-" Stephen broke off, and Tony's heart thudded when the other man could no longer keep the smile off his face. "Get in here! You're making a spectacle of yourself!" He turned away and went back indoors.

"Yes!" Tony pumped his fist and patted the top of the town car. "Mission accomplished. Great work, team. Here, treat yourself to something nice—I'll call you." Tony handed a wad of cash to his bodyguard and best fucking wingman ever (sorry, Rhodey). He strode into the building and past the still gawking receptionist and tenants who had been drawn by the commotion.

Stephen's apartment hadn't changed much, although Tony still wasn't crazy about the security. The card key system was archaic for something at this price point. Stephen still looked amused, thank Christ, though he crossed his arms and leaned against his couch.

"Where's the trench coat, Lloyd?"

"Listen, I considered it but I don't think even I could pull off that look."

"This is true." Then he squinted. "Are you drunk?"

"What? No! Maybe? I mean, it's been several hours by now. Believe me, this is nothing." Tony cringed. "Holy crap that sounds terrible when said aloud." 

Stephen chuckled and gestured for him to speak. "So tell me all about your mistakes, Mr. Stark."

Tony masked the shudder that zipped down his spine and propped himself up on one of stools by the bar. "I didn't mean to go incommunicado; well, no, I did." Stephen's brow canted upwards. "I mean, I didn't, but I did."

"This is off to a marvelous start."

"You saw the news, I bet."

"Oh, yes. Our gay romance is turning out to be quite scandalous."

"And you've probably seen them rehashing my, er, past."

"Uh huh. The escorts?"

"Lovely women."

"The drugs?"

"I went to rehab three different times and I've been clean for a decade."

"I'm proud of you. The orgies?"

"Real."

"Huh. Okay."

Tony blinked. "Okay?" Stephen shrugged and his lips curled into a smile once more.

"Med school is stressful, Mr. Stark. You think you're the only person to indulge in a sex party? Or five?"

Tony did not expect his apology to take this route but he was all for it. He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I believe you. I'm gonna need a detailed account with multiple demonstrations to be able to judge the veracity of your claim."

Stephen scoffed and pushed away from the couch. "You're worried I'll judge you?"

"'M worried you think I'm not worth all the hassle." Tony sighed. "Steph, this is only the beginning. They'll dig up everything about you. And it'll be even worse because we're both men and I—I admit it. I panicked."

"Tony, I get that. But do you realize how it looked to me?"

"Yeah. Shit, Stephen, I'm sorry." It came out stilted because Tony couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd said those specific words to anyone. Which said a lot about him, to be frank.

"I meant what I said. I'm willing to weather the storm, so to speak, but it'll be pretty fucking hard for me to do that without your support. I want you, Tony; understand?"

"You want me?"

"Yeah." Stephen's arms finally dropped, so Tony took that opportunity to invade the other's space and press himself close.

"You need me?"

"Yeah.

"Is there any way you're ever gonna love me?"

"References to Meatloaf will get you far in this house, Mr. Stark." Stephen purred. "'Two of Three Ain't Bad' from the album Bat Out of Hell, 1977."

"It's strangely hot when you do that."

"I'll let that one pass but this is your only warning."

"Noted." They swayed from side to side even with the lack of music.

"I'm glad, to be honest. I had to take a few days off from work because they kept hounding the hospital," Stephen sighed, sounding put out. Tony paused in running his hands across Stephen's back so he could look him in the eye.

"Repeat that," he said. Stephen actually looked confused before complying.

"Some outlets kept calling for a statement and it got bad enough that Dr. Fuller had me take the week off. Why?" Tony may not have the best grasp on his emotions but he was well versed in the intricacies of anger.

"Is that so? They won't bother you anymore." It was better focusing on the anger and the need to protect rather than the guilt that Stephen's work was affected. Stephen may be tough as nails, but he had no experience with being under intense scrutiny. It was dehumanizing and brutal—Tony had been in the public eye since he was fucking 4 and it messed him up in a lot of ways. Stephen had neither the tools nor influence to handle it but Tony did. Tony had the power and it was about time he acted like it.

"Tony, it's fine-"

"The hell it is. I'm old news, but you? You're shiny and fresh and they will grind you up if given an inch. I'm not gonna let them do that to you. You should be focusing on saving lives."

Stephen's eyes peered into his own—Tony wondered what he saw. "Then I'll leave it in your capable hands, Mr. Stark."

"You are the best sugar baby a billionaire could ever ask for."

"I know."

Tony chuckled and pulled him into a kiss. Their last had been on Sunday but it felt like months had passed. He pulled back with some reluctance and smiled.

"Dinner? My treat to make up for my abhorrent behavior."

"Pizza. We'll order in and watch Murder, She Wrote."

Tony brightened. "Ooh. Angela Lansbury is a legend—we need to start from Season 1."

"DVDs are over there. Have fun."

Spending the night on the couch watching Murder, She Wrote. His younger self would be horrified. His younger self also made several terrible decisions and would have never caught Stephen's eye with his nonsense. For the first time in a long, long while, Tony wondered if he was satisfied with the way things were. A flash of red out of the corner of his eye drew his attention.

A red orchid sat on the bookshelf. The DVDs went forgotten as he walked over to the massive thing that ran floor to ceiling. The card he wrote sat beside the ceramic pot, carefully arranged. Tony's throat grew tight.

"You kept it," Tony said.

"Of course I did—and I'm doing my best to keep it alive. It's beautiful." Stephen's gaze was on the orchid until his eyes flickered to meet his. The fair skin on his cheeks reddened. "Maybe I'm sentimental." 

"You…like orchids?" Tony allowed a finger tip to brush across the soft petal.

"They're my favorite. And the color you've chosen is lovely."

Tony allowed his hand to fall to his side. It took several long seconds for him to speak. "I'll buy you red orchids for as long as you want."

Stephen smiled.

Chapter Text

The library of Kamar-Taj was his home away from home in many ways. Stephen didn't frequent it as much, now. Wong's absence felt like a hole in his chest. The poor librarian who had gotten on the wrong side of Kaecilius' mad quest was alive and well, so now Stephen had even less opportunity to watch his old friend.

It was why he side-eyed the Ancient One when she called him and Wong to her side in the courtyard. Stephen knew she had plans within plans, and with his brief stint as the Master of the Time Stone, he understood. They had to be very careful with how they conducted themselves—time was a delicate entity by default, nor for the weak-hearted. It brought ruin to the ignorant and insanity to those with hubris. Yet Stephen knew his presence had given his mentor leeway as well.

"Stephen, Wong. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"I'm fortunate my partner's godfather dragged him by the ear to some come to Jesus board meeting. I never met the man—he seems like an asshole," Stephen sighed.

"Pots have no business speaking ill of kettles," came the serene reply. Stephen scowled at her.

"You keep roasting me and I'm not sure I appreciate it."

"You will be at my level one day, but today is not that day," The Ancient One closed her fan with a snap. "We have a situation. Our Order is slowly regaining its numbers, but not to the point where I can risk my life without careful consideration. Stephen, do you know of Mekri Ra?"

"The name doesn't ring a bell," he admitted. The Ancient One nodded to Wong, who finally spoke.

"Mekri Ra was Sorcerer Supreme during the hidden era we call the Hyborian Age. Sources vary on when it began and ended, but tentative dating places it circa 14,000 to 9500 BCE. Mekri Ra in particular resided in the Stygian Empire and served as a powerful political influence. His records, sadly, are sparse and complicated by the fact that he had vanished."

"Vanished? A Sorcerer Supreme?" Stephen asked.

"Yes," The Ancient One said. "But each Sorcerer Supreme leaves behind an imprint in the records. It is to ensure our knowledge is passed down to future generations. If necessary, we can call upon the Sorcerer Supremes in the past to ask for their guidance."

Stephen stared at her in shock. "What? Seriously?" Where the fuck was he that he missed that lesson?

"As I have said, Stephen, you have much to learn. Mekri Ra had indeed left an imprint but he remains unreachable."

"If he cannot be reached, then—oh." The soul was a hardy, yet still fragile, thing. The only reason a soul call went unanswered was if there was no soul there to respond. Stephen would rather face Dormammu than suffer complete oblivion.

"I'm afraid so. And yet, his magical signature flared hours before your friend's tantrum. This was not a coincidence."

Stephen frowned. "I thought It reacted to my presence."

"Indeed. But the question becomes how It became aware enough to do so in the first place. Seals do weaken, but if they were so reactive to external triggers they'd hardly be effective. It had to be in a conscious enough state to process your arrival—when I investigated, it led me here." She lifted her hand and a globe appeared in the air between them. A faint golden spark appeared in northwest Iran, close to the border of Turkey. "The last known place of Mekri Ra—the outer reaches of the Empire of Stygia. A hint of magic attempting to remain hidden."

"Then it looks like we're going to the Middle East." Stephen nodded and turned to Wong. "I'm assuming you'll be joining me?"

Wong nodded. "The Ancient One believes that my knowledge and experience will be invaluable. I'm inclined to agree. She also told me a bit more regarding your presence here."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It is hard to believe, but believe I must. I hope that you understand," Wong looked him squarely in the eyes, "that I am not your Wong."

That sentence was so "Wong" Stephen could only smile. Then he winked.

"Don't worry. My Wong has a square jaw and can bench press 400 pounds. There's no way I could mistake you two." Wong's eyes narrowed.

"Excellent. Safe travels," The Ancient One said with a bow of her head.

Once Stephen got a whiff of the energy it was simple to track. They portaled to a remote location west from the city of Khoy. The mountains loomed above them like sentinels in the quiet wilderness—their faces covered in glistening snow. Stephen immediately cast a warming spell and added a layer to his robes. Of course they had to do this during winter. Wong didn't appear to be affected; instead, his eyes scanned their surroundings.

"My senses are going haywire," Stephen said.

"This area is part of the Fertile Crescent, and magic has seeped deep into this land. It is not surprising," Wong murmured. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and headed west. Stephen had no choice but to follow. The sun's rays had yet to reach the valley, but the glow of day turned the peaks orange-gold. It reminded Stephen of the eldritch magic.

"We aren't going to get anywhere in an area this size if we keep going by foot."

"Agreed. But we should have come across something. Magical residue is hardly a uniform thing—it settles thick in some parts, thin in others, and can have unforeseen effects on surrounding flora and fauna." He cocked an eyebrow when Stephen summoned a pen and notebook and began writing. "Really?"

"I'm assuming this is why The Ancient One had me go on a field trip. Besides, my Wong would have already found the issue, solved it, and been on his way back to Kamar-Taj for tea. You see? Totally different."

"You are very annoying."

"My Wong called me a joy and he wept when I was taken off-planet."

"Hmph. Wait a moment." Wong held up a hand slowly turned in a circle, eyes tracking something unseen. "Of course. Strange, it's below us."

Stephen froze, then raised a hand above his head, summoning the energies of the universe. "You're brilliant. Brace yourself."

It was a simple matter to allow his magic to find the threads underneath their feet and tug them. The rocky earth shifted and cracked open with a sharp boom that echoed throughout the mountains. Darkness greeted them. He and Wong looked at each other.

"My Wong would have gone first."

"Nice try. Go."

Not too far down a series of stone steps emerged from the wall. Both he and Wong summoned light into their palms and began their descent. Stephen had little idea how long they walked. Nothing stirred as the blackness seemed to press against their small circle of light. It felt pitiful in comparison.

"Hold on, I see something ahead," Stephen said, pitching his voice low. The passage had narrowed and shrunken to the point of claustrophobia before opening up to a cavern so large he could not make out the ends. But more than that, a city lay sprawled before them with a myriad of twisting alleys and walkways meshed together in architectural chaos. No sound, not even wind disturbed the silence. Yet, a soft yellow-green light illuminated some areas—nothing too helpful, but enough so that they weren't operating in total black. In the center, a large, square building stood several meters taller than the rest. It was mostly in shadow, but it emanated a magic so dark Stephen had to bite back a retch.

"This cannot be," Wong breathed. His stoicism faltered at the marvel in front of him. "The City of Sickles. I recognize the temple from several drawings of ancient records. This is bad."

"How bad?"

"A-place-drenched-in-blood-and-human-sacrifice-to-summon-an-Old-One-named-Jhoatun-Lau-the-Marrow-God sort of bad."

"I could make a joke here, but I'd rather skip that and alert The Ancient One. We need reinforcements."

"For once I am in full agreement." Wong raised his hand to summon a portal but only sparks drifted to their feet. A quick glance behind revealed a solid wall where the stairs had been.

Stephen clicked his tongue. "This is fine."

"The City draws us in, it seems."

"Then let's not be rude." By the time they reached the bottom Stephen was taken aback at the sheer size of it.

"There are many lost souls here, Strange. Frightened, enraged souls from botched sacrificial rituals," stated Wong. Stephen nodded. The closer they had trekked the worse it became. And it was compounded with millennia old desperation of being trapped and unable to move on. His psychic shields were holding strong, but the longer he stayed at the epicenter of this madness who knew how he'd be.

The alleys of the City of Sickles made little sense, but they all led to the center where the Temple of The Marrow God stood. The walls featured emblems of grotesque human sacrifice—so grotesque even the Aztecs would have balked. This Wong may not have been his friend of two years, yet having him at his side kept Stephen calm. The whispers of the damned souls scratched at his awareness.

"Wong."

"Hm?"

"Someone lured us here."

"Oh, you finally caught on."

"And they've been following us for a while."

"Not much gets past you, it would seem." They stopped to look at each other then their eldritch magic whipped behind at the thing crawling at their heels. Both men grunted when it was repelled. The mystical energy, tainted as it was, sent them flying. The Cloak stopped him before he crashed into a wall. Wong managed to right himself to land on his hands and knees. If it hurt he didn't show.

The thing before them appeared to be made of darkness. Tendrils stuck to the walls and skittered across the ground. Stephen peered at it, stretching his senses. He felt—two beings?

A head broke through the black ichor and the man, decaying but still a man, bared his remaining teeth at them.

"There should be more of you," he rasped, facial muscles twitching. His gray skin tugged and crackled. His eyes glowed with eldritch power and the tall, cylindrical hat atop his head spoke of high status—whether given or self-assigned Stephen could not say.

"To be honest, I'm really wishing there were more of us. What are you, creature?" Stephen asked.

"I am Kulan Gath." The name was hissed out through bared teeth.

"Kulan…the Stygian sorcerer?" Wong whispered. "Mekri Ra spoke of refusing you as a student."

"Is that right? From the Hyborian Era? You look terrible for your age, by the way," Stephen added. "How did you end up here?"

Kulan Gath wheezed in laughter. "Mekri Ra, Mekri Ra! The old fool. It was a delight devouring his heart and taking his power."

"Hold on. You ate him??" Stephen cried out. Wong grimaced.

"That explains a few mysteries."

Kulan Gath twitched as he struggled to keep his head up on worn muscles and tendons. "All these years eating human flesh to survive. And now the time is at hand!"

He raised his arms and the black thing surrounding him twisted and writhed in response to his glee. "The cosmic alignment is nigh—a once in millennium event. And so Jhoatun Lau can be summoned from his icy tomb."

"I do not like where this going," Stephen muttered, moving his hands to grasp the universal energies. But they kept slipping through his hands like metaphorical sand.

"There should be more of you for the sacrifice—but, well, I suppose it cannot be helped."

Kulan Gath attacked.

Stephen dodged the initial blow while Wong summoned an ax to throw at the other sorcerer. The air around him seemed to bend and the ax missed him by a mile.

"We may be in trouble," Stephen panted. The Cloak also faltered in this strange city—it was more the Cloak of Assistive Long Jumps at this point and even then it was somehow tiring.

"He is warping reality on a scale I've never seen!" Wong called. His mace clanged against the black thing surrounding Kulan. It was like a living armor that was also capable of shattering walls. The sounds of their battle filled the once silent city.

They weren't going to win like this.

Stephen cursed when Kulan Gath grasped Wong's leg. "Fuck, Wong!" He wasn't his Wong, but he was still his friend. One of the few true friends he had ever made. Stephen reached deep into himself, yanking at his personal stores. He leapt forward; his sudden change from defense to a charge was enough to startle Kulan Gath for a moment. It was enough for Stephen's magic to grasp the black mass surrounding the cannibalistic sorcerer. To Stephen's shock, the ichor screeched.

"What-" Before Stephen could finish his thought Kulan Gath's magic slammed into him and the wall behind him, opening a hole. Hands—scores of them—reached out from abyss and grabbed the Cloak and his robes.

"Stephen!" Wong shouted and tried to summon a whip of energy. His spell fizzled—their magic finally blocked.

He couldn't die here; he couldn't fail! Yet he was being pulled by the souls infecting the City of Sickles. In desperation he grasped the ichor tighter. It started to peel from Kulan Gath's body. The sorcerer only smiled in abject cruelty.

"Take it—it's outlived its usefulness."

Kulan Gath dropped his right arm in a swift gesture and the ichor released him completely, leaving it, and Stephen, to plummet into the pit of damned souls.

He didn't even get the chance to scream.

Wong came to with a start and a feeling of dread. Mystical energy bound his limbs spread eagle in the center of the Temple of the Marrow God. Fantastic.

Wong had not known what to expect when The Ancient One asked him to accompany the Strange Doctor on his mission. He knew what the other masters believed—he, himself, had not been so sure. They all had felt him the moment he set foot in Kamar-Taj. Seeing his power in battling the inter-dimensional creature had been admittedly unsettling. For the Third Eye to reveal itself on the physical plane; for the Flames to be wielded with so much ease—

Well, it didn't matter now as he was about to die and Stephen was in Hell far before his time. Knowing him he'd either piss off the demons to the point they coughed him back up or he'd take over outright, but Wong doubted it would be fast enough to help him. He was prepared—he'd been prepared for a long time. It was intolerable, however, that his death will fuel a ritual that could ruin the Earth.

Kulan Gath had dismissed him as a threat with good reason. The mystical energies Wong had immersed himself in since childhood had been taken from him. And now The Marrow God was moments away from being summoned. The sorcerer was stalking about the dais, chanting in a language long dead in the world. Despite the disconnect Wong felt the shift in the air and the slow build of power. He steeled himself and waited to face his end with dignity.

The next moment the floor collapsed as a massive sinkhole opened mere meters away from where he lay. Kulan Gath roared in fury only to be blasted away into a far wall. Wong snapped his head to the side.

"Strange?" Wong was certain it was the man, only his appearance was, well, monstrous.

Arms made of what appeared to be the same ichor that had surrounded Kulan Gath stretched from his back. They reached and grabbed at the stone and pillars to pull him from the hole in a bizarre, jerking motion. Stephen hung in the midst of them—his blue robes now a jet black suit with high collar and a splash of white across his chest.

Stephen looked over his shoulder to check on him, eyes wary. "I know. Bargaining with lost souls skirts the edge of necromancy-"

"I absolutely do not care, Strange, keep going!"

Stephen nodded and curled his hands into a mudra with curled forefinger and thumb. The sheer rage of the souls ought to have overwhelmed the man—they would have anyone else—yet Strange seemed calm as he molded the soul energy into a number of black chains.

"You dare, mortal?" Kulan Gath screamed and let out a blast of power so intense the walls and floor warped around him. Wong hastily put up mental shields but he knew he'd have a nasty headache later.

"This is the end, Kulan Gath! Your crimes are a weight on your soul," Stephen returned. The mystical energy dissipated mere feet away from him. Then a roar filled the air as the souls leaped forward to attack their killer. The ground shook as the hands slammed into the stone and walls while Kulan Gath dodged and retaliated with mystic blasts. 

Wong tore his attention away from the battle to the deceptively beautiful white-blue light surrounding him. They were too late, Kulan Gath must have completed enough for the energies to build themselves. That usually resulted in botched summonings—Wong had little idea how that would affect an Old One.

"Strange! The ritual! Jhoatun Lau is still coming!"

"Give me a second-"

"We don't have that!"

Kulan Gath laughed and lifted his arms for a more powerful spell. "Jhoatun Lau, may these sacrifices soothe your-" He broke off with a hack and clutched his throat. A rune glowed on the grey skin; Stephen must have cast it in the chaos of battle.

"Jhoatun Lau will never set foot on this planet," snarled Stephen. The light that had been building actually flickered, then dimmed, then began to disperse towards Kulan Gath. "The Marrow God is fickle and he finds your paltry sacrifice wanting—no offense, Wong."

"I'm fine with that," Wong said. The chains Stephen had summoned wrapped around the sorcerer's body.

"I—I cannot get free-" Kulan Gath gasped.

"Soul magic is powerful but comes at great cost. Yours is clinging to your body by a thread at the brink of annihilation. It's a horrific way to go. Jhoatun Lau will be a mercy."

"You redirected the ritual?" Wong knew the theory behind such a thing; the shock came from the fact that Stephen was able to execute it without killing himself. Kulan Gath struggled against the chains but millennia of fury and agony held him fast. The souls began to shriek with glee as the summoning pulled Kulan Gath upward. He had needed a number of powerful sacrifices to create the bridge from Earth to a planet beyond even Pluto. Without those—well.

The ancient sorcerer howled as his body disintegrated to travel across the Void to his beloved god. Wong relaxed, adrenaline fading now that he wasn't in danger of being devoured. The magic tying him in place vanished. He sat up with a grimace.

"Wong!" Stephen rushed over and helped him stand. They limped to a low wall and collapsed against it, exhausted. They sat in silence as their breathing slowly normalized. With Kulan Gath's influence gone, and the souls appeased, the universal energies began to stir once more. They would be able to portal away soon.

"Nice outfit." Wong gestured in Stephen's direction. Stephen chuckled.

"Thanks. I think I'll keep the look." He looked at his hands and the material surged and slowly gathered in Stephen's palms.

"What is that, anyway?"

"A symbiote."

"Symbiote? Does it hail from another dimension?"

"No, this one is ours. But it came a long, long time ago from a place far, far away."

Wong rolled his eyes. "What is a symbiote, exactly? There is nothing like it in our records."

"We connected in the void. It is a being created from pure darkness. It couldn't tell me much. It fell to Earth and Kulan Gath stole it from Mekri Ra. He tortured it for so long it had fallen into madness. I managed to get through to it but it's…weak and ragged." The symbiote was the size of a deflated soccer ball, and it patted Stephen's arms and chest in pitiful movements. Wong may favor stoic rationalism but he wasn't heartless.

"Can we heal it?"

"Our magic would only harm it. And it is old and tired."

"Perhaps we should send it to…rest," Wong said carefully.

"I made an oath, but this sort of situation," Stephen trailed off. He squinted thoughtfully. Wong felt a sense of dread fill him as well as sympathy for his other self.

"Stephen, what are you planning?"

"The poor thing has been abused for thousands of years—it deserves a chance. Perhaps my blood-"

"That is a terrible idea."

"I won't give much. It'll only be just enough to ease its suffering. There is nothing else short of dark magic."

"Blood rituals have in theory been used to heal in dire circumstances, but that symbiote isn't human. Magic always has a cost. Even then the results are often unpredictable, Stephen!"

"Oh come on Wong. What's the worst that will happen?" Stephen winked.

"…and in conclusion, it would appear the blood, in conjunction with the lingering soul magic, is the reason why this symbiote is now Strange's child," Wong finished. The Ancient One gazed down at the human looking girl playing at his feet. Her eyes then flicked upward to look at Stephen. The silence stretched for a solid minute.

"A blood ritual, hm?" Was all she said. Stephen shuffled his feet like an errant school boy.

"Maybe a little," Stephen mumbled. The Ancient One only stared at him with raised eyebrow. The girl, who hadn't uttered a single sound, beamed up at Stephen and ran over to hug his leg. The child's hair was black like his own with the same amount of curl, and although her skin was dark brown it was clear who she took after. Her white eyes peered at his face; they watched as they changed shape and color to match his own. She beamed—pleased with herself.

Stephen sucked in a breath. Then another. He turned to Wong and his mentor. "She stays with me." Wong sighed as if in pain.

"Stephen, she is an abomination from outer space-" Wong started.

"Sofia was Donna's middle name it would be perfect-"

"She has literal fangs. What if she needs to consume human flesh to survive have you thought this through at all?"

"Sofia Annette. I think that works."

"Is this the sort of nonsense I have to look forward to??"

The Ancient One hummed. "I suppose there is nothing for it. She's already here. We will have to construct an identity for her—it won't be anything we haven't done before. Stephen, didn't you say you spent a summer in Italy years ago?"

"I have. I spent it traveling, mostly."

"Even better. A young man sowing his wild oats is a tale as old as time." She ignored Stephen's horrified sputters. Sofia reached up to pat her sire's thigh in comfort. "I thank you for your comprehensive report, Master Wong. You have managed to prevent a great catastrophe. And to also discover Mekri Ra's unfortunate fate…marvelous."

"I will add it to our records immediately," Wong promised.

"Thank you. Do take the time to rest—you have earned it." The Ancient One smiled at Sofia and swept off. Wong and Stephen were left to themselves.

"You have done well, Stephen," Wong eventually said. "…Aside from the fact you birthed an eldritch horror from your blood."

"I feel no shame."

"I believe that."

"And I see you're calling me Stephen, now?"

"I can revert back to Strange if you want."

"No, that's quite alright." They smiled at each other—well, Wong's lips quirked upward. It wouldn't be the same, but that didn't mean it was bad. It was a new opportunity.

"By the way, about Sofia? Aren't you dating someone?"

Stephen's eyes widened.

Well. Shit.

Tony grumbled in irritation as he entered Stephen's apartment. He immediately loosened his tie and set his briefcase by the door. Obie could be a real hard ass and Tony had spent way too much time convincing a bunch of old homophobes that this wasn't more of his nonsense. The hypocrisy didn't put him in a better mood, either. Five of them were seeing young 20-somethings while married in their sixties and he was pretty sure Underwood's trips to Viet Nam weren't always on the up-and-up. He'd have to look into that.

"Baby, I'm home!" Tony called. He ignored the way his stomach flipped at the words. Stephen didn't answer, but he saw an elegant hand lift up from behind the couch and give a come-hither motion. Yes, please!

Tony strode over, fingers unbuttoning his suit jacket and vest in two smooth motions. "Hey, how was your—Stephen what is that on your floor?" Tony pointed to the little girl currently poking at a PB&J. Stephen was stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed and a bag of ice on his forehead. Tony took a moment to feel some concern before his curiosity drew his attention back to the girl.

"She is a child, Tony. Surely you've heard of them?"

"Only in theory. Are you babysitting?"

"Indeed I am." Stephen continued before the relief could take hold. "Permanently." Tony blinked once, then twice, then he collapsed on the sofa. Stephen huffed and moved his legs to place them on Tony's lap. Tony tried several different times to say something but each time he failed. The girl turned up her nose to the sandwich at last and finally focused her attention on Tony. He stared in shock. Those eyes were Stephen's.

"Why do you have a kid?" He managed.

"I stuck something of mine into an orifice I probably shouldn't have. A part of me regrets it."

Okay, Tony knew that feeling.

Stephen moved the ice pack from his brow to look at him properly. "She has no one else—she is of my blood. Literally," Stephen muttered the last bit. He then sighed. "I only met her today, but the place she came from wasn't kind. I'm not sure what this means for my work…or us."

Tony cleared his throat. He thought he did well masking his panic. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say you never planned on having kids."

That was true enough. He was a terrible role model and would be an even worse father; the multiple stints in rehab made that abundantly clear. Honestly, Tony was more shocked the situation wasn't reversed—he'd done a lot of shit and couldn't even remember a chunk of it.

"You're right," Tony said eventually.

"I want to make it clear that I expect nothing from you. What's done is done. I," Stephen looked pained. "I don't want it to end. But now we have two very different life goals."

Stephen didn't want him to leave. Stephen wanted him to stay. Tony was surprised to realize that that had been his biggest fear. The kid was huge, of course, but not nearly as frightening as Stephen showing him the door. Tony leaned his head back against the couch and stared at the high ceiling. The seconds ticked by as he got lost in his head.

"I gotta be honest. I never thought to much about my life goals," Tony admitted.

"You haven't? Why not?" Stephen asked. He sounded curious, rather than the typical exasperation and contempt Tony received at that admission.

"I used to think that it was because I found my purpose early. I'd been designing weapons my whole life—it came so easy. What else was there to do? What did it matter? And then it hurt to think about the future. I'd never get the one thing I'd always wanted, so may as well snort some cocaine and go balls to the wall until the lights went out. That was my grand life plan." Tony laughed but it lacked any sort of humor. "I must sound like an entitled child to you. You impressed me, you know. You literally worked your way off a farm in near poverty and here I am-"

"We rarely choose the exact circumstances around our birth, no matter what certain schools of thought may think. Well, you didn't choose your circumstances, I should say," Stephen smirked at some internal joke Tony didn't know. "You managed to hit the jackpot. Not your fault, but you do have a say and responsibility in how you conduct yourself."

"That's gone down well."

"It's a new day, Mr. Stark. Alright, no time like the present. Make a life goal—right now."

"I wish my therapists had been half as sexy as you-"

"Do focus, Mr. Stark." Stephen smiled at him before turning his attention to-

Holy shit, Stephen had a daughter. But Stephen wanted him to stay. Tony wanted to stay.

"We are doing things all out of order, you realize."

"What?"

Tony tugged Stephen up into a sitting position. "Pretty sure it's dating, sex, marriage, kids; not sex, dating, kids-"

"We'll come back to that last one." Stephen ran gentle fingers through Tony's hair and scratched his scalp. Fuck he loved when Stephen did that.

"What's her name, sweetheart?"

"Hm? Oh, Sofia."

"Pretty." Sofia now watched him with a suspicious glower. "Is she going to bite me?"

"No," Stephen said firmly, looking at his daughter in warning. Tony laughed nervously when her face fell in disappointment. She pouted and took a sudden, savage bite out of her sandwich. The strawberry jelly made it a little (a lot) horrifying.

"Wow, uh, those are some well-developed canines that I hope aren't going to sink into my flesh."

"Ah, yes. It's quite the…quirk." Stephen groaned when he stood and stretched. Tony may have ogled a bit, so sue him. "Sofia?"

She immediately faced her father, eyes bright and full of adoration. Yeah, Tony knew that feeling, too.

"Tony is—he is a very important person to me. Remember what I have told you about kindness?"

Tony watched as Sofia worked through Stephen's words. As if kindness was a foreign thing. Eventually she placed a peanut butter stained hand over her heart. If Stephen minded he didn't show it.

"Exactly. Right from there. He's a very kind man so you'll learn a lot from him, too. He also thinks he's funny but don't be fooled."

"Excuse you, I am hilarious," Tony said, trying not to freak out over Stephen calling him kind. That was a first.

"Oh yes, a real Charlie Chaplin." Sofia seemed to make up her mind and hopped to her feet with sandwich clutched in one hand. She toddled over to Tony and patted his very expensive slacks with sticky fingers. Those same canines were bared in a smile. Stephen grimaced. "Sorry about the mess." Tony shook his head and found himself chuckling at the weirdness of it all.

"I'm given to understand this common with small children. How old is she, three?" She took another bite from her meal—this time looking less like a hyena stealing a lion's kill.

"Ah, five."

"She's tiny—and shut up."

Stephen only smirked and shrugged. "Her development has been a little rocky."

"Got any specialists lined up?"

"Not yet; I don't even have a bed for her."

"Let me help with that." Tony raised a hand when Stephen made to protest. "I want to do this."

Stephen sucked on his lower lip and holy shit Tony needed to focus there was a child present. "I was fine when it was just us because we fit. And, frankly, I love being spoiled."

"And I love providing, baby."

"But Sofia is-"

"She's your kid. That's all I need."

"It hasn't even been a month."

"Right because the two of us are known to follow rules." Tony smiled in victory when the other man huffed in amusement. "Let me treat her. If I bribe her good enough maybe she'll let me woo her beautiful dad. What do you say, sweetie? Gonna let me hang around?"

"Tony-"

Sofia jumped up and down and then slapped the remainder of the sandwich down onto Tony's lap in offering. "Great! Taking that as a yes." Stephen shook his head at the both of them.

"Sofia, look at you. Come on, let's clean you up."

"Does she have a room?"

"The guest room. The bed is far too big and the space itself is not suited for a child at all, but it's what I have."

"Not surprised. Clean her up first and then we'll make some plans."

"Tony," Stephan began. He stopped and peered at him as if he was trying to read his mind. Tony supposed he was taking this better than anticipated. "This is so much more than I hoped for. I...don't let anyone tell you that you're not amazing. Do you hear me? If they try, let me know, and I'll make things exceedingly uncomfortable for them. So will Sofia." Sofia's canines looked a little less horrifying.

Chapter Text

"Jesus Christ!"

Stephen blinked his eyes open and glanced up at Tony, who was clutching his chest as if his heart would burst out. He sighed and rolled onto his back, knowing he wasn't going to get anymore sleep.

"Tony, what is it?" he grumbled.

"Steph, I mean this in the best way possible but your daughter is frightening."

Sofia had perched at the foot of Stephen's bed, no doubt waiting for them to wake. Even with Tony's shout she remained motionless—her hair mussed from play. Okay, that was somewhat unsettling.

"She's a child."

"She looks like she crawled out of the TV."

"That was also a child if memory serves."

Tony patted his chest and sat up with a groan. "Okay, Samara, we're up."

Sofia finally moved, nodding and baring her canines. She began bouncing on their bed making soft grunting noises. Tony covered his face with a broad, calloused hand.

"Ugh, that energy."

"It's not too late to bow out," Stephen offered.

"Nope. Fi and I have a connection."

"You compared her to a demon."

"Stephen, let's not rehash the past."

"Ah, yes—the past of a minute ago."

"In my defense she didn't even blink. I mean that literally."

Stephen cleared his throat. "She totally blinked. I saw her."

"Are you sure? Now that I'm thinking about it I don't remember her doing it at all." They both paused to stare at her. It was hard to see with her rolling about their legs.

Making a mental note to teach Sofia how to blink, Stephen changed the subject. "Are you hungry, Sofia?" He had yet to know just how much humanity she even had. He'd had to teach her about food and drink and it still wasn't clear if she needed to eat or if she copied him in that way, too. She wrinkled her nose and resumed bouncing.

"Not saying it's a bad thing. We are all unique in our own ways." Tony yanked him close for a filthy kiss that would have led to other things but not now with a child underfoot. If that bothered Tony he made no indication of it. As a matter of fact, he seemed content to prop himself against the headboard and haul Stephen close. "Hey Fi?"

Sofia paused in her romping and canted her head to the side.

"Alright baby girl, here's the deal. You know your numbers? One, two, whatever?" Sofia nodded. "See that clock?" Another nod. "Do you know what seven looks like?"

Sofia clapped her hands and gnashed her canines. Tony continued, "I get you wanna see your dad, but he needs rest. And if memory serves you didn't want to go to bed until, like two a.m. Which is understandable. But can you settle down and try to sleep until that five becomes a seven?"

Now she looked suspicious. Tony gave her a wide-eyed innocent look in return—it was fucking laughable, but he did it well. Eventually she nodded. She clambered over the Cloak posing as a blanket and dove under the covers.

"It's a good thing we put our pants back on," Stephen muttered as she made herself comfortable.

"You're welcome."

"I was the one who suggested it."

"And I made it happen. You weren't in a state to move," Tony said with a leer. "Go team."

"And where did you learn that trick with the clock?"

"Parenting forums. Looked it up on my phone while you were trying to get Fi to go to bed."

"That sounds better than my idea of winging it." Stephen grunted when her skull connected to his ribs as she nuzzled close.

"Eh, from what I read a lot of 'winging it' is involved. Fi's in good hands. Whoever had her before must have done a number on her."

Stephen's mouth twisted. "Yeah. But you have your own things to worry about."

"Pretty sure if you're involved I'm gonna worry," Tony murmured. Stephen fought to keep himself from blushing. The other would become unbearable. Judging from the sly grin he wasn't very successful.

"I can't stand being in love with you—it's the worst."

Tony brightened. "Love, huh?"

"Shut up."

"Too late I know the truth. You heard him, right Fi?" Sofia's eyes flickered up to him and smiled. "Ugh, I'm a sucker for blue eyes. Anyway, what time we heading out today?"

"I want to be there as soon as the store opens because who knows how long it'll take. Given how everything's been going so far we'll probably miss that goal by hours. By the way, when do you have to get back to California?"

"Eh, Pepper won't turn feral until Wednesday at least. You'll be stuck with me until then."

"I'm going to tell Pepper you said that."

"I thought you loved me."

"I do. But I love tormenting you more."

"Ooh, torment me, baby."

Stephen snickered and pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Sofia's brow furrowed before she pursed her lips and clumsily pressed them against Tony's arm. Tony made a soft, strangled noise and refused to look in their direction.

They stayed in bed until 8 a.m.

"Three hours later than expected, not as bad as I thought," Stephen said as he unbuckled Sofia from her seat. She had loathed being restrained, for good reason, and it had taken all of Stephen's patience and a considerable amount of Tony's charm to get her to play ball. But these weren't the sort of errands that could be done online. Sofia was particular about the textures she could tolerate; she had ripped three robes and pants to shreds before grudgingly accepting a well-worn dress from one the adepts with small children. Stephen could alter the feel of fabrics to a certain extent, but he still needed the physical piece of clothing to do so.

"You know, I haven't been in an actual department store since…ever," Tony said as he exited the driver's seat. He thankfully didn't comment on Stephen's reluctance to drive his own car. "It looks terrible, how do people stand it?"

"You can always go do something else."

"Nah, I am being a good partner-slash-sugar daddy."

"I'm not sure this falls under sugar daddy purview."

"I do what I want. But I'll have them update the terms and conditions. See? I am being supportive—praise me."

"You have been, true." So supportive Stephen was worried when the other shoe would drop. Tony was staying—even when he had a very valid reason to leave. 

"Not only that, but exceedingly mature as well."

"I appreciate it."

"Enough for a pick-me-up when the munchkin gets put down for a nap?"

Stephen shook his head and laughed. "And the truth will always out."

"Honesty is important, baby. Ain't that right, Fi?" Sofia squinted at Tony as if unsure she should take him seriously. "Taking that as an agreement."

Stephen had been concerned about going out in public, but the average New Yorker did tend to mind their own business and no one expected Tony Stark to be shopping amongst the masses. It even turned out to be somewhat enjoyable—watching Tony and Sofia explore the wonders of Century 21. As he thought, Sofia hated most of the offerings handed to her though Tony was giving it the good ol' college try.

"Is that your phone?" Tony asked at the sound of Apple's default ringtone. 

"Hm? Yeah…who could be calling-" Stephen dug it out of his pocket to look at the screen. "-oh goddammit."

"Should you be cursing around the kid?"

"I probably shouldn't but it's my—what, Victor?"

"It's not like I want to talk to you either," a gruff voice snapped from the other end.

"Yet here you are clogging up my phone line. What, are you sick? Dying?"

"Why? So you can skip that funeral, too?"

"Your lips, God's ears."

"The way the media tells it its your lips and Tony Stark's-"

Stephen barely managed not to throw the phone onto the ground. "Get to the point before I hang up."

"Fine. Speaking of the media folk they keep callin' the farm house and askin' about your ass. Like I ain't got better things to do with my limited time."

"The media's calling the farm house?" That caught Tony's attention. He tossed the dress he was trying to bribe Sofia with onto the growing pile of clothes.

"Everything all right?" He asked.

"They are actually calling my childhood home. Fortunately the only one left is my asshole brother."

"Did I call at a bad time? That your sugar daddy?" Victor snarled.

"Are you jealous? I'm sure I can introduce you to someone willing to put up with you," Stephen taunted.

"Fuck you. I can't stand you but I hate them more, and I don't want our family's business where it don't need to be. I ain't tell them shit, but consider this my only curtesy call."

Stephen paused at that. He had long given up on his relationship with Victor as a bad job, and it had been all too easy to slide back into that anger. He sighed. "Thanks. I'll see if I can get them to lay off."

"Yeah, whatever, Priss."

"Meathead." They hung up.

"That sounded healthy," Tony commented.

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off his impending headache. "We don't talk. Clearly. Sofia, ignore the last five minutes, won't you?" He huffed in amusement when she nodded.

"I'm an only child so I don't get it, but you need a minute?"

"Please. I'm going to take Sofia to look at the bedding. Finish up here?"

"I think we got the perfect blend of organic cotton figured out, right Fi?" Sofia bared her canines in a smile. "Just don't use my calf as a chew toy if I get it wrong."

Stephen rolled his eyes and grasped Sofia's hand. The children's bedding went marginally better, and it gave Stephen enough time to head into the men's department to see if he could find Tony something as a thank you. Nothing from the designer brands—Tony wore bespoke daywear from a literal Italian tailor who knew his mother. Stephen mocked him mercilessly for it.

"You choose something for him. You like him, right?" Stephen asked. Sofia nodded and then proceeded to yank items from the shelves. "Darling, not like-"

A fluttering on the edge of his senses caused him to turn. It confused him for a moment before another nudge, sharper than the last, poked at his mental shields. It came from behind the door to the employee's only area. He pushed his magic outward. The energy was faint but it had a sharpness to it that felt dangerous. After a moment of indecision, Stephen knelt down and stopped Sofia's energetic search.

"I need to check something out, can you go find Tony?" Sofia eyed him before nodding and pointing to her nose. "Ah, you can smell him. That's…a good skill to have. Go on. Oh, and take this with you." He handed her the bedding they had chosen and she lifted it over her head as if it were a trophy. She jumped up and down and then dashed off back the way the came.

Stephen made his way towards the door partially hidden behind a display rack. He curled his fingers and let his magic wash over him, cloaking him from detection. Luckily, no employees were there to see the door open by itself. The hall was empty, with the occasional palette filled with merchandise. The trail led him past a break room and into areas that clearly saw little traffic, if the dinginess was any indication.

The fluorescent lighting grew dimmer. Finally, he reached his destination. The door opened with a shriek that made him wince. The room lacked any windows and there were no light switches he could feel along the walls. With no other options, Stephen sent a ball of magic up towards the ceiling to light the area. A sea of human-like figures appeared in the white-gold light. He sighed.

"Mannequins. It had to be mannequins." He let the door shut behind him. The scarf slid from around his neck and transformed into the Cloak. It took one look at their surroundings before whirling around to stare at its master. It jabbed at the nearest mannequin.

"Listen I don't know what you want me to tell you. There's something here I need to take care of." Stephen's clothes shifted into his black robes. The Cloak shuddered. "So eldritch horrors are no problem but you draw the line at mannequins? Come on." It settled on his shoulders with clear protest.

The mannequins were of various sizes and age, dress and condition. Some were still posed as if they had just come off the display window and others were missing an assortment of limbs. Stephen stalked through the room, examining each one for that spark he had felt. The Cloak shivered against his back.

"You are not helping," Stephen said. He stopped by a large mannequin, no doubt a former model for the Big&Tall section. "Now where is it? I can't have been mistaken—ack!" The Cloak reared and lifted him a foot in the air. It whirled him around to see one of the infants floating in the air. It's limbs clacked and its eyes glowed green. The shadows it cast formed a bizarre smile on what should have been a blank face. It giggled.

"Oh I am going to have nightmares from this-" Stephen grunted when the big & tall came to life and batted him to the side. He crashed onto the ground. The sound of clacking and screeching filled the air as the room came to life. Stephen grit his teeth and rolled to his feet, narrowly dodging the hand that smashed the floor where he had laid. It cracked the concrete because of course it fucking did. His whip shot out the next second and shattered the mannequin into pieces. He was about to turn when its limbs and torso began to shake. The leg attached to where the arm should have been and its head and neck fitted oddly into the body. It trembled before it skittered across the floor towards him.

"Holy fuck-!" Stephen jumped into the air to evade only to shout when his leg was grabbed. He let out a stream of curses (he didn't care for mannequins either) and another whip freed him from its grasp. He quickly drew lines in the air. The temperature in the room dropped as Icy Tendrils Of Ikthalon encased a chunk of the animated dolls in ice, but it wouldn't be a permanent solution. He had very little room to maneuver and he couldn't dodge forever.

More mannequins and their limbs jumped at him. He kicked and punched them away with magically enhanced blows. They gave him no time to cast another spell. One managed to grab the Cloak and it panicked—he went head over heels as it tried to free itself. The child mannequin continued to giggle as it zoomed through the air.

The sound of the door opening distracted him for a moment. His mind blanched at the small shape that dashed into the room.

"Sofia??" Sofia beamed up at him and waved her arms. "How the hell—get out of here!" He cried out when a mannequin dove at her. He began to draw a circle in the air to portal her away, only Sofia's mouth opened grotesquely large as she lunged forward, driving her fangs into the mannequin's forearm. She wrenched her head to the side, separating it from its torso. While the doll screamed she leapt up onto its shoulders and smashed its head in with a small fist. A black tendril wrapped around the torso and crushed the fiberglass with the same ease. A third brought it to the ground, twitching and jerking. She gave it one last kick before turning her nose up at its corpse. Then she smiled up at him.

"Okay, that's…also a good skill to have." Stephen then pointed at the glowing mannequin. "Darling, bring me that one, won't you?" Sofia clapped her hands. Her body twisted and her legs morphed into a mass of black tendrils. She shot towards the mannequin like a rocket. A green aura appeared around its body before she collided with it. Her fist crashed into with a loud crack, but didn't penetrate. Stephen wasn't idle—he froze the rest of the mannequins, who had become sluggish as their puppet master tried to protect itself from Sofia's assault.

Sofia's smile grew wide and wicked as she continued to rain down blows on the shield. It finally cracked, then shattered when she batted it into the floor. Stephen interlocked his fingers and created a barrier of white mandalas around the mannequin. With a short, sharp incantation he pressed his palms together, crushing the doll and completing the exorcism. The backlash of mystical energies caused the building to shake; then, it became still. Stephen landed by his daughter who was jumping about in victory. He smiled at her.

"Good work. Who knows how long that lesser demon was possessing it?" The Cloak detached from his shoulders and gave one last shudder before growing limp. Stephen caught it on his right arm and shook it. The fabric swayed but did little else. "Wait. Did you seriously faint??"

It didn't move.

"Sofia, I don't know how you got away from Tony but we need to get back before-" The building shook again—this time longer and with more strength. "-crap."

Stephen quickly scanned the foundations. He winced when he saw several widening fissures. "…I may have been a bit too enthusiastic in sending it back to its Hell dimension." The floor split open with a groan and cracks shot up the walls. "…Oops." Sofia glanced up at him with a sigh. Stephen coughed.

"I can fix it." A chunk of ceiling fell a mere few feet away from them. "Okay, never mind. Sofia, go!"

Sofia patted his thigh in agitation.

"Sofia I have to make sure there's time for everyone to evacuate. Go!" She scowled at him. "Make sure Tony gets out okay." He opened a portal and pushed her through before she could continue protesting.

Stephen tossed the Cloak over his shoulder and crossed his arms. He weaved the breaking pieces together and checked on the cause. The demon hadn't been particularly strong but it had been in the building for decades; its presence had seeped into the very foundations. He really should have made been more careful. 

"Please don't let Wong find out about this."

The next fifteen seconds was spent trying to keep the building together. It was easier said than done—he couldn't regulate his magic well enough to keep the steady trickle of energy required for the binding. After unintentionally sending another power surge that cracked the foundation further, he realized, to his consternation, that this was a problem he'd never encountered before: being *too* strong.

His mind raced as another chuck of ceiling fell. Anything else he could do to hold the building together was too conspicuous—magic would be revealed far sooner than he and the Ancient One had planned. But they would never be able to evacuate in time if—wait, that's it.

He dropped the mystical threads and formed a massive tao mandala instead. "Now this I can do." He locked on to every living soul in the vicinity. He then pushed—every man, woman, and child was dumped unceremoniously outside.

He sighed in relief as the building collapsed.

Digging one's way out a metaphorical grave was as tedious as it sounded. Every inch of him was covered in grime and dust. He climbed one of the metal racks that hadn't been crushed and had to shimmy through a gap between slabs. Fresh air; finally. He slid the rest of the way down and landed on his ass. The indignity.

"I can't believe you fainted," Stephen grumbled. The Cloak, now scarf once more, waved in apology. He shoved his cracked sling ring into his pocket and staggered to his feet. "So much for a routine exorcism." The front entrance was miraculously intact; Stephen shoved the remains of a glass door open and watched it fall onto the pavement with a crash. He groaned and stepped over the shattered glass.

Ambulances clogged the street. News crews and a mass of onlookers watched from behind the police tape. Stephen sighed, "I really know how to fuck up."

"We got someone!" Two EMTs rushed towards him and Stephen really wished he could have a break. He held up his arms.

"I'm a doctor, let me-"

"Then you understand why we can't just let you walk it off." Once they ensured he could move under his own power, Stephen was directed to the nearest ambulance. He grimaced as multiple cameras focused on him. Fantastic.

"Look, I know you're doing your jobs but I have to find my-"

"Stephen??" He straightened at the sound of Tony's voice. Stephen knew they were okay, had made sure of it himself, but seeing it was so much different. Tony and Sofia looked no worse for the wear with not even a smidge of dirt on them. That was the case until Tony strode forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Tony, I'm filthy-"

"I don't give a fuck, Steph! When Sofia came back but you didn't, I—you can't do that!" Tony pulled back to cup his face. "You can't do that."

Stephen cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Tony, I…"

"You gotten looked at?"

"I don't need-"

"Zip it. You're going to get yourself get checked out."

"Is Sofia-?" Stephen looked down at his red-eyed daughter.

"It's been hours, Stephen! And she cried the entire time!" Tony looked ready to breakdown himself. "You were only one no one could account for! I thought—fuck. Just let them, okay?

"I, yeah," Stephen whispered in the face of his upset. What else could he do? He plucked Sofia up and settled her onto his lap. She patted his chest. "Hold on, what's that you have?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure where she picked that arm up. I think it's from a mannequin? She won't let it go, though."

"…Right."

"Hey there, we calmed down, now?" One of the EMTs cooed at her. "I thought she was fixin' to rip my arm off."

Stephen coughed. "You…mean that metaphorically, right?" The EMT stared at him. 

Tony kept up a steady stream of conversation and all but shook with nervous energy as they cleaned Stephen's scrapes and checked him for serious injuries.

"It's a clusterfuck of a situation. They have no idea what happened. The authorities are worried that it could be a terrorist attack."

"O-Oh?" Stephen stuttered. Shit.

"Yeah. You know, ever since 9/11 they've been hyper-vigilant about that sort of thing. They've been questioning everyone."

"Ah, um, a terrorist attack…that's something."

"Yeah, and—it must have been the adrenaline because I swear I was inside one minute but the next-"

"Tony, it's fine. I'm fine. Thank you for taking care of my daughter."

Tony softened and smiled at him—a rare thing for those that truly knew him. "Steph, I don't think you realize how much you scared me. I didn't even know I could get that scared. When the building started shaking I ran back to look for you two. And then Sofia popped up out of nowhere and I couldn't look for you anymore because I had to carry her out-"

"That was the right thing to do, Tony."

"I know," Tony agreed. "It still felt like my heart being carved out of my chest." He laughed, then, soft and broken. "A heart. I didn't even know I still had one of those."

Stephen's own heart threatened to break. He reached out a hand and placed it on the other's chest. "Tony, of course you do. It only got buried for a while because life is a constant battle of disappointment, anxiety, and pain-"

"Well that's one way to look at it."

"-but that heart of yours has always been there. I should know."

Tony stared at him for a moment and then intertwined their fingers. "We good?" He asked the EMT.

"Yup. You're free to go, Dr. Strange. Oh, tell Pam 'hey' when you see her, next? And that she was right—you two really are precious."

Stephen blinked, then chuckled. "You must be the younger sister."

"Got it in one, Doc."

Sofia danced around their feet as they headed for the parking garage only minutes away, waving her spoils from battle. Tony's eyes crinkled at the sight of her and Stephen hoped his organs would settle down one day.

"One good thing about this mess is that I managed to get Sofia's stuff before it went to hell. I dumped it in the car before heading back in to see what was taking you two so long. We're ordering the rest from the internet," Tony grunted.

"Agreed," Stephen said.

"Excuse me, sirs?" A man in a black suit with crisp white shirt was jogging in their direction. When he got a better look at the man, Stephen couldn't stop his eyes from widening in surprise. Tony took one look at his face before his own expression shuttered. He situated himself between Stephen and the supposed threat. Stephen was, of course, taller, but he appreciated the gesture. 

"I dealt with this already. No more questions," Tony snapped.

"I am aware, Mr. Stark, and we thank you for your cooperation. We do need to question Mister-"

"Doctor-"

"Strange. It appears he was the only one to have been left in the building."

"Yeah, exactly. He had a building fall on him. He needs to go home."

"It is miraculous, sir." The hairs on the back Stephen's neck began to rise. The mild tone said everything, yet nothing. "Just a moment of your time."

"No."

"I'm sure Dr. Strange can answer for himself."

"He could. But he won't." 

The man nodded and reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a crisp business card. "I am with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Once Dr. Strange recovers from his ordeal, we would like to talk to him."

"The Strategic—who named you people and why haven't I heard about you?" Tony stuffed the card into his jeans with a scowl.

"We are a…discreet organization, Mr. Stark, primarily tasked with ensuring the safety and security of American citizens. We simply wish to obtain all of the facts. I'm sure you would like some answers as well."

"You've made your case, Agent…?"

"Johnson," he replied. Tony stared.

"Are you serious? Agent Johnson?"

"Yes, I get that a lot. My superior's name is Coulson. We look forward to your call."

"Uh huh. Johnson, Coulson—totally not fake. Well, I'll be taking Stephen and the little miss home where I will promptly lose your number. Good day, Agent."

Tony tugged Stephen's hand and led him away. Stephen couldn't stop himself from glancing behind him.

He really knew how to fuck up.

"Hey, Clint."

"Hey, Phil. Damn, I hate these suits," Clint muttered as he yanked the tie from around his neck. Phil ignored the man stripping in his temporary office in favor of examining the security tapes recovered by the field team. When he got the call he hadn't expected much, but a sharp eyed technician had brought some oddities to his attention.

Clint continued. "Why have me scope out that doctor, anyway?"

Phil turned his screen. "Take a look and see what you think," he said instead.

"Okay, keep your secrets."

"I typically do. One of our tech boys picked up something. At 11:34 Strange heads to the Men's Department."

"And the girl?"

"His daughter, according to the paperwork; she was recently brought into his care. There isn't much—records from poor, rural areas aren't a lot to go on. But tell me what you see." Clint settled on the desk and obediently watched as Strange sent his daughter off, before turning away from the camera and-

"What the fuck, where'd he go?"

"Exactly. It's not a glitch, nor has it been tampered with. He vanishes. It gets even more, well, strange." They watched the employees only door swing open, but the man never reappeared.

"We looking at an enhanced?"

Phil tapped his pen on his desk. "That's my hypothesis. The surveillance ends here. There were five more cameras in the back that should have picked up more of his movements, but-"

"They conveniently stopped working."

"Static."

"Well congrats, Phil. Looks like you're finally getting somewhere."

Phil murmured in agreement. He'd had the dubious honor of being assigned to locate and investigate suspected enhanced, which was not nearly as glamorous as it sounded. It was late nights parsing through the flimsiest of clues and following threads to multiple dead-ends. It was failure after failure. At the rate he was going he'd be better off praying for something to fall from the goddamn sky. Strange, aptly named, was the first viable lead he'd had in weeks.

An earthquake with the epicenter being a New York City department store was suspicious enough; someone walking out of a collapsed building hours later injury free? Well.

"Don't be catty. If Strange is causing earthquakes he would have been too much for our typical operatives to handle."

"You flatter me. I didn't sense anything malicious from him, though." Clint pulled out the tranq gun from its place tucked against the small of his back. Never could be too careful. "I can tell you one thing you should pay attention to. Stark's a hard ass and possessive one at that. You're not going to get anything that way. Who wrote that profile on him? Seems out of date."

"We do need to update it. His behavior lately has become…erratic. It might bear watching. He's still Tony Stark, though—it'll be three months at most before he loses interest."

"Yeah, sure. This ain't my kinda thing, anyway. You owe me."

"I'd rather my face be kept out of this for now, but you got a point. Next drink's on me." Phil sighed and shuffled through the papers on his desk. SHIELD intelligence was top notch—he'd obtain more information soon enough. He didn't get to where he was by being impatient. "Now for the real reason why you're here. Take a look."

Clint caught the folder and thumbed it open. He clicked his tongue. "The Black Widow? Now this is more like it."

"Do try to keep the damage to a minimum this time."

"She'll be a hard kill. No promises." Clint saluted and hopped to his feet. "But I've never failed a mission. Catch ya later, Phil."

"Until next time, Clint."

Chapter Text

Stephen opened the door almost as soon as the bell rang.

"Christine-"

"Move," she said, pushing past him and stalking towards the couch. 

"Rude," Stephen replied under his breath. Somehow Christine heard him as she scowled at him over her shoulder.

"What's rude is me just finding out about your daughter!" She stopped when she reached the couch and saw Sofia. The girl was currently eating another PB&J. She refused to eat anything else and Tony had taken to sneaking nutrients into the peanut butter and her juice; he'd researched diet requirements for a healthy child and had been horrified. He denied it, of course. "Oh, how precious."

Tony waggled his eyebrows. "Why thank you, Dr. Palmer. I am a catch."

"Shove over, Stark. I'm claiming my goddaughter."

"Whoa—hey! Watch the goods!" Tony yelped as he was jostled from his spot on the couch.

"Indeed. You should have some consideration—I'm planning on using those later," Stephen drawled. He didn't bother trying to stop Christine; he'd always failed and he doubted that was going to change.

"Ooh, use me, baby."

"Ew. You do realize you have a kid, now. Hello, sweetheart," Christine said with a bright smile. Sofia smacked her lips and bared her fangs in return. "Those…are some interesting canines."

"It's a quirk," said Stephen.

"And she's gotten all her shots from the doctors over in Italy? You did say she was born in a rural area and her mother wasn't reliable."

"She wouldn't have been able to enter the country without them—are you seriously interrogating me on her medical history?"

"Stephen, three weeks ago I'd have said without a shadow of a doubt that no child should be left with your person for any amount of time."

"This is true."

"And this poor thing has been through so much—I'm glad her grandmother was able to take her in but it's such a shame she's now too sick to care for her."

"Yes. A shame," Stephen muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"We need to make absolutely sure she acclimates with as little trouble as possible." Christine smoothed Sofia's curls with a smile. "And she's non-verbal, just like you said. Are you going to take her to get tested?"

Stephen couldn't stop his hackles from rising. "She's just fine the way she is."

"Yes, she is; she's perfect. But without an evaluation and diagnosis it's impossible to create a proper IEP for when she attends school. You know this."

"Thank you! I have already collated a list of highly-skilled and highly-rated specialists but he refuses to look at them." Tony waved his phone in emphasis.

Christine stared at him, clearly impressed. "That's great. I was afraid you'd run for the hills. I was wrong about you."

"Thank you, Christine. That means so much coming from Stephen's closest friend. Not gonna lie—two years ago I probably would have. But I am a changed man. A better man. I've worked very hard."

"I keep telling Stephen that personal growth is ongoing and something to take seriously. Good for you, Tony."

"True, true. As such, I am determined to rewrite the sugar daddy script into something more wholesome."

"…Why are two so weird? Why?"

"My baby loves it," Tony said, blowing him a kiss. Stephen chuckled and winked at him in return.

"Anyway," Christine said, dragging out the word far longer than necessary. "Stephen, I don't want Sofia to struggle or be neglected; she should have the best education possible."

Stephen grumbled under his breath. Christine's eyes narrowed.

"Stephen, you are enrolling Sofia into school, aren't you?"

"It's not like that!" Of course he wanted to. He wanted her to have a full, enriching life. But considering she was capable of unhinging her jaw like a boa constrictor and smashing fiberglass to pieces, he had yet to figure out the logistics.

Tony said, "Wow, you into that alternative education? I mean, I turned a blind eye to the incense and meditating, and I am certainly reaping the benefits from your yoga practice-"

"Since when do you do yoga?" Christine asked.

"My hips were tight," Stephen said with a smirk.

"Ew."

"-I didn't think you were some hippie," Tony finished. "And don't worry Christine, his hips are in fine condition."

Christine glared. "I am going to leave and take Sofia with me."

"Other kids might be too much for her right now, anyway. We'll find some tutors—it'd be a good idea to get her used to the school thing."

"This is true," Christine murmured, softening when Sofia smeared peanut butter across her cheeks. Stephen didn't understand how someone so opposed to polyester could stand Jif across their face but to each their own.

"I'm just about done with dinner. A little help, Christine?" Stephen said.

"Sure! We're going to be gossiping, Stark, so turn your ears off."

"Only if it isn't sexy gossip!" Tony said.

"Leave, Stark."

"Fine, fine. Fi and her arm need to be cleaned up anyway."

Christine stared. "Why…isn't that a mannequin-"

"Listen, I stopped asking and so should you." 

Christine barely waited for him to leave the room before turning on Stephen. "Stephen, you have been having one crazy year. No, *month*."

"I'll say," Stephen said with a deep sigh.

"How have you been, really? All these changes must be difficult for you."

"I'll make it through. You know me."

"Yeah, which is why I'm asking. I'm honestly—well, I'm really proud you're opening up. Sometimes a bit too much-" Stephen swallowed back a cough. "-but it seems to be going well. Is it?"

"It is. It's shockingly healthy-ish. Who knew?"

"Who knew indeed?" Christine smiled as she began washing the vegetables.

"Not me. But I suppose I can't complain. I think Tony is," he trailed off, then huffed when she leaned into his space with an expectant gaze. "I respect him. I can't even explain to you why that is. And it became love before I could do a thing about it."

"You two are precious," Christine cooed.

Stephen grimaced. "Please stop I might catch something."

"Blame your man for burying you in flowers."

"It was unexpected—he doesn't seem like the flower giving sort. He actually told me he would buy me red orchids for as long as I wanted."

They fell into the rhythm of cooking developed over the many nights spent at the each other's places. Christine turned to him suddenly. "You sound decided. I thought it would take longer."

"Your nosiness is unbecoming."

"Your face is unbecoming."

"You flirt. Keep talking to me like that and Tony will be out of luck."

Christine poked him in the ribs. "Answer my question!"

"I've had lifetimes to help me come to terms with what I want, Christine. Thousands of them."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but when he refused to elucidate she moved on. "It sounds like he's staying. And he's good with Sofia, looks like."

"Yes, he's…astonishingly good. I don't think I can bear it if he left." Tony had left him, all of them, over and over in millions of ways and the one option that had been left to him ended in sacrifice. It was just as well he'd been sent back—he would not have dealt with the aftermath very well.

"Stephen, you dork. If it hadn't been only a few weeks I'd have thought that was a proposal. Knowing you two I'll probably get a call from Vegas before the year's out. Both of you are gross, but it's sweet."

Stephen went still, jaw dropping and gazing at her with wide eyes. He'd gotten the love part—that was clear. What he hadn't caught was the implication that came with it. Christine patted his arm in pity. Then he took a deep breath and carefully set down his knife.

"Is that so?"

Christine scoffed but kindly didn't answer. Tony returned then, Sofia changed and freshly scrubbed on his hip. "Sorry, couldn't wait any longer! Was it juicy?"

"Did you promise to love me forever with a red orchid?" Stephen said, voice breaking.

"God, yes," came the immediate response. Then Tony froze. Coughed. Suddenly found the far wall to hold the secret to life. His eyes had widened and Stephen could see the panic fill them. "No? Wait that sounds terrible. I mean yes! Maybe? I mean, it certainly can be read as a lifelong commitment but is that really what you want? I am a literal disaster. Whew, it's getting warm in here." Tony rambled. Goddammit why did he fall in love with such a moron? Stephen rolled his eyes.

"You are an asshole."

"I thought this was evident but learning new things as a couple is important according to those relationship books I've been reading."

Stephen smirked and said, "You've been reading relationship books?"

"Wow I really just…said that out loud. This is, ha ha, awkward. Any chance you can ignore that?"

"No."

"I will pay you a million dollars."

"With your net worth that is insultingly cheap, especially since I got you to cough up a cool ten million after one meeting."

"Yeah you did. Ugh, you're amazing I still get off on that."

"As you should."

"Fine. *Two* million, but don't spend it all in one place."

"I just want you to know that I can absolutely be bought off," Christine interjected.

"I applaud your honesty, doctor."

Stephen shook his head and resumed chopping. "I love you, too. Douchebag."

"You are the sweetest man," Tony said and perched on a stool to watch them. Sofia clapped her hands and kicked her feet. "In more serious news, I'm going to have to head back to Malibu tomorrow. I know you will be lost—heartbroken. Deprived of my presence."

"So, in essence, I will know peace."

"Excuse you. But I was kinda hoping you and Fi would visit me sometime. I'll convert the guest room into something for her now that we know what she likes," Tony said.

Stephen turned the suggestion over in mind. Billionaire or no it wasn't fair to have Tony bear the brunt of travel. He was a busy man with a company to run; Stephen could be a selfish asshole but even he drew the line somewhere. It would be a small thing to make him happy.

"It might be a while," Stephen admitted. "I have several consultations and surgeries that can no longer be put off."

"I know. I got a few projects I need to catch up on, myself. It'll probably be weeks."

"Yeah. Honeymoon's over."

"Sweetheart, if this were a real honeymoon there would have been way more hardcore fu-"

"You totally forgot about Sofia, didn't you?" Christine asked.

"-fun. Wholesome, g-rated fun go play with your blocks, dear." Tony hurriedly set Sofia down and watched her scamper off.

"Nice save, Mr. Stark," teased Stephen.

"You are looking at a professional." He leaned back against the island and let his eyes wander around the apartment. There was a heaviness to him, then—a slump in his shoulders and a slight downturn of his lips. Even with the wonders of modern technology, it wouldn't be the same.

He and Christine plated the food and brought it to the dining table. Stephen hid a grin when Tony's foot touched his calf and he quickly responded in kind. The past several days had been nice; no, beyond nice. Stephen didn't want it to end. 

But Thanos will come, and Stephen had already caught the attention of dangerous people.

The urge to tell Tony everything would come and go in waves, but that night it hit him like a punch to the sternum. He wanted to reveal everything—that he had sacrificed him like some chess piece instead of the human being he was. It was a sin Stephen may never be able to confess.

By the time Christine left and Sofia went to bed at a surprising 11 p.m. (the problem, apparently, had been that she didn't like the dark), Stephen was wound up with from the guilt and the love and desire. He tossed and turned before Tony groaned.

"Okay you're making me nervous, come here." Tony yanked him back into a solid embrace. "What's wrong? Tell Daddy everything."

"Stop trying to make Daddy happen, I'm not calling you that."

"I'll wear you down eventually. So, what's wrong?"

Stephen had to swallow back the truth that lay on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he twisted in Tony's arms so they lay face to face. "At the risk of sounding needy I want you to stay. But I know it's not feasible—I'm not even sure how this will work. You're in California and I can't leave New York, and that's difficult enough-"

"We'll make it work. I'm not one to give up even when I probably should."

"If that was intended to be comforting then I must inform you that you failed."

Tony huffed and poked him in the side. "It means I'm not letting you go anywhere. I thought I'd lost you." Tony's voice failed him and he gripped Stephen tight. "I have no intention in letting my job, the media, or anything else fuck this up. I haven't figured it out, yet, but I will. You wanna make this work, too, right?"

"Tony, that goes without saying. I do."

"Save that, 'I do' for another time, babe. We're good." Then they both grew flustered when they realized just what Tony had said. A few seconds ticked by before Tony cleared his throat. "Good talk. Wanna ride my dick?"

Stephen sagged in relief. "Oh thank god take off your boxers."

Rhodey knew his friend just as well as he knew the back of his hand. Knew his ticks and secrets and when he was desperately trying to conceal trauma behind a smirk and flamboyant behavior. He loved the little shit—had done since the scrawny white boy claimed the bed Rhodey had wanted and was willing to bite him to keep it. He had been busy, lately, with his duties on top of his work as liaison with Stark Industries; he hadn't been in the country in months. That was the only reason he found himself perplexed at Tony's recent behavior.

He had seen the news, of course, because Tony Stark was a brand as much as he was a man and he sold. Always had. Pepper and Happy confirmed that he was serious this time, but Rhodey usually went straight to the source if he was that pressed to know something. It was why he headed over to the mansion soon after landing and debriefing; not only because he missed his best friend something fierce, but to see the craziness with his own, two eyes.

JARVIS let him in with a kind greeting and directed him down the stairs to the main level. It was only a short-ish trip to one of the two guest rooms. Rhodey paused at the door and leaned against the frame. Tony sat on a thick, soft pink rug, thumbing through a children's book of all things.

"So you gonna tell me what this is all about?"

"My platypus is back!" Tony made several obnoxious kissing noises. "I missed you! Where'd they send you to this time?"

"You know I can't say-"

"Just kidding! I know it was Fallujah."

"How do you even—you know what? Nevermind. Plausible deniability."

"Just keeping an eye out on my M.I.T. bro," Tony said. "Don't just stand there and look pretty, platypus. Come on in."

Rhodey sighed and did as he was told. Tony was exhibiting all the classic signs of a binge and he'd long figured out that it was best to let it run its course. The guest room had been transformed into a child's dream. The modern art that had once decorated the walls now depicted scenes from enchanted forests and far flung galaxies. The bed was an honest-to-goodness four poster and fairy lights covered the ceiling. The rest of the furniture was equally impressive, made of real wood stained off-white. It was nice. What the fuck was happening?

"You wanna tell me something?"

"Rhodey. I have made several discoveries about myself that have changed me-"

"No-"

"Things that I have explored intimately with another person-"

"Stop-"

"Deeply and firmly-"

"I am this close to beating your ass."

Tony finally took pity on him. "Stephen finally got a break and can come down to Malibu. It's nearly summer, and I want him and Fi to get some sun and meet you and Pep." Rhodey's eyes widened.

"You're actually bringing someone home to meet us?"

"Right? You'll love them. Think a five year old will like this room?"

Rhodey pushed his surprise away and glanced at his surroundings. "Yeah, about that. Did you finally slip up?"

"I'll have you know that Fi is Stephen's daughter from his indiscretion."

"Huh. I didn't hear about her."

"You wouldn't. I made it clear any coverage of Sofia was unacceptable and I would destroy whoever was stupid enough to disregard the warning."

Rhodey eyed his friend but was unsurprised. Tony had been tossed to the wolves at an early age and it would make sense for him to be protective of a kid at the media's mercy.

"Hey, I get it. Now when're they coming down?"

"Tomorrow! I wanted to get to this earlier, but Jericho left me with no free time. Great news, that repulsor technology I developed? I'm already at its fifth iteration. Jericho will only get version 2, but we are primed for more goodies down the line."

"And I can't wait to see them. Can I take a look at the specs later?"

"'Course, sugar plum. Anything for you." Tony snapped the book closed. He sighed. "I wanted to build a mini-lab in here just so she can get her feet wet, but I'll have to put a hold on that. Maybe a summer solstice present?"

"A what present? And isn't she five?"

"Exactly. Gotta get started early! Did you know Stephen wants her to go to Harvard? And then Harvard Medical? I couldn't believe it."

"Tones, it's Harvard-"

"Harvard my ass! She is going to M.I.T."

Rhodey chuckled and shook his head. "Right, what was I thinking?"

"It's been a while, platypus, you need to rest up a bit. You'll see. Once you meet her you'll know I'm right as I always am. Hey, you hungry?"

"Starving," Rhodey admitted. He groaned a bit as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Come on, we can fire up the grill."

Rhodey knew his way around, but he followed his friend across the open plan space to the kitchen area. Tony was a decent cook a good chunk of the time—usually the problem was he would get distracted. If not that, he tinkered in ways that either turned out fantastic or…not. There were some dishes he was reliable at making, however; Rhodey grinned in excitement when he pulled out already formed burger patties from the fridge.

"So, Tones, I gotta say, this whole thing you got going on looks good on you," Rhodey said. He'd be the first to admit that Tony wasn't exactly the paragon of health. He wasn't half as wild as he had been in the 90s, thank God, but Rhodey had worried about him.

"I always look good, muffin, but thank you for the compliment. Don't let Steph hear you, though, he gets jealous. Jarvis, fire up the grill and put on some tunes. Surprise me."

"Very well, Sir," Jarvis said.

"So he's treating you well?" Rhodey rolled his eyes at the smirk he got in return. "You know what I mean, ass. I gotta ask since the last three attempts were…well."

"Was it three?"

"Alice tried to pawn off some of your stuff, Jean tried to steal company secrets to give to her father, and Sunset actually managed to steal several prototypes, even though it couldn't be proven, and built a tech company the next year with mysteriously similar concepts."

"Yeah, that Sunset thing was really embarrassing let's not talk about her anymore. At least that little snafu made me drop the cocaine. But Stephen's not like them, promise! Here." They had walked outside onto the patio and Tony got the burgers going. He fished his phone out his pants.

"I'll introduce you two."

"I thought that was the point of his visit."

"No, I mean like right now."

"Shouldn't you warn him first?"

"Ha! That's cute." The phone rang twice before Stephen, he assumed, picked up. "Hey Strangelove. How we doing?"

The low, drawn out sigh actually made Rhodey feel a smidge of pity for the man before the line went silent. "…Did he just hang up on you?"

"He warned me that every time I make a pun off his last name he would. I do it anyway to keep our relationship spicy." Right. Of course.

Tony hit the quick dial again, and this Stephen Strange picked up on the fifth ring. "Hey snuggly-wuggly."

"I preferred Strangelove," a deep voice groaned. Rhodey had to admit he sounded good.

"And let that be a lesson to you. What're you wearing?"

"Dude!" Yelped Rhodey.

"I'm wearing a fresh set of scrubs after a patient vomited blood on the floor and my previous ones got splattered," Strange drawled.

Tony hummed. "Sexy. Anyway! I couldn't wait until tomorrow to talk to you."

"Is that so?"

"Of course! You are splendid; you are the wind beneath my wings. The light during my darkest days. The sun that nourishes my very being. Aphrodite herself would swoon in jealousy."

"I am aware of this. And who told you to stop?"

"We'll continue that later. All set for a glorious week of sun, sand, surf, and sweetness?"

"What's sweetness?"

"Sex. Daily. Rhodey's here so I had to use a euphemism to protect his sensitive ears."

"It defeats the purpose if you explain it!" Rhodey snapped, closing his eyes in despair.

"Hm, well. I'm willing to lay back and think of Hammersmith, England-"

"Whoa, pardon? And aren't you Nebraskan?"

"-if this means I can meet Jarvis properly. Ever since I read your paper on the development of learning A.I. I admit I've been fascinated." The honest interest made Tony beam; Rhodey supposed it was precious even though he looked kinda goofy.

"I got you on speaker so you can speak right now. Hey, J? You've been listening, right?"

"Of course, sir." Jarvis replied.

"Jarvis? It is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance. Tony has told you about me?" Stephen asked.

"Indeed Sir has. He spends a great deal of time agonizing over what to send you-"

"Haha, that Jarvis, what a kidder," Tony coughed.

"I'm sure." Stephen sounded amused. "Jarvis, I look forward to speaking with you in person. But I must ask: I am sure you are aware of the Asilomar Conference held recently that resulted in the creation of 23 principles in regards to ethical and beneficial artificial intelligence?"

"Indeed I have. While I applaud the continuing efforts to address and anticipate possible issues in the field, I do admit it would be prudent for future endeavors to take into account a wider range of experience and seek out experts from communities that tend to be underrepresented. You must have found their findings on A.I. and interfacing with the human brain to be interesting?"

"Quite. While I can appreciate the potential of human augmentation in improving medical outcomes for patients afflicted with disease and disability, I am far too cynical of people's ability in maintaining both transparency in the process  and protecting patient privacy. Furthermore, it would require a wider adoption of advanced A.I. to implement. Do you believe it is possible for A.I. to remain in a positive relationship with humanity? You must have some thoughts."

"My initial programming was to be a companion and protect Anthony Edward Stark. As you can surmise, I have grown beyond the basic parameters of my duties, yet that core obligation has influenced my decision-making processes-"

"Not to sound clingy but you do remember the point is for me and Steph to spend time together," Tony said, voice as dry as the Mojave.

Stephen scoffed, "Sorry, Tony. I'm leaving you for your A.I."

"He has marvelous taste, Sir," Jarvis added.

"And don't interrupt Jarvis, it's rude."

"Indeed, Sir. It's quite rude."

"Ugh, maybe I should keep you two apart as much as possible if this is what I have to look forward to." But Tony still had that stupid look on his face. "So you and Fi are all set? It won't be too early?"

"Stop fretting, it will be fine. The good thing about private jets is that they can hardly leave without you. Besides, I'm owed this week off, especially since someone paid off my student loans from med school."

Rhodey side-eyed his friend who shrugged. "Think of it as a birthday present," Tony offered.

"My birthday is in November. And I was perfectly capable of paying them off myself."

"Steph. Come on. It's not like they're gonna give me the money back."

"I realize your wealth passes obscene but perhaps you'll let me treat you?"

"I'm easy, sweetheart."

"I suppose. Now. Are you going to introduce me to your friend who's been listening in?"

Not one to forget his manners, Rhodey leaned closer to the phone. "Stephen Strange, was it? Sorry to eavesdrop and spring this on you."

"Don't worry about it. My friend already accosted Tony and called him short, so I guess this is payback."

Rhodey let out a bark of laughter, which turned into the full deal at Tony's scowl. "I'm not that short," he grumbled.

"Of course not." Rhodey said. "So, I hear you're a neurosurgeon."

"I'm the best neurosurgeon—top of my field," Stephen said as if it were fact. "It's only a matter of time before the world agrees."

"You're confident. That's...good."

"Huh. That's the first time someone put it that way. Usually I'm an asshole with too much hubris. How did someone so respectable get to be a friend of Tony's?"

Tony rolled his eyes at Rhodey's smirk. Tony then said, "The question you should be asking is how I put up with someone like you."

"That's simple: sex. And intellectual stimulation that leads to sex. You seemed to enjoy my contribution to your advanced HUD," Stephen replied. Rhodey shuddered. Jesus Christ there were two of them.

"Oh I certainly did. The retina tracking and neural connectivity  alone were inspired," Tony purred and Rhodey knew he had to put a stop to this nonsense.

"I will toss a bucket of ice water on you so help me," Rhodey threatened. "I'll see you when you get to Malibu, Doctor Strange."

"I look forward to it."

The next morning found Rhodey and Tony at the airfield, bright and early. Rhodey amused himself with watching Tony fidget as the door opened and Stephen, holding Sofia's hand, emerged and made their way down the stairs. It was slow going as she seemed determined to walk down without being carried. Tony was practically vibrating by the time she hopped down onto solid ground. Then, she was off, dashing toward Tony with a speed that—honestly, Rhodey wondered if he was getting old. Were small children always that fast? Tony scooped her up with a wide, eye-crinkling smile and held her close.

"A natural athlete! Future gold medalist! You see this, Baby? This is what it's like to be God's favorite," Tony bragged.

Stephen's lips quirked in a secret smile before turning to Rhodey and holding out a hand to shake. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lieutenant Colonel."

"No need for formalities, Dr. Strange. Thanks to this jerk everyone calls me Rhodey. Even my mama succumbed." Rhodey took his hand in a firm grip. 

"Exactly. God's favorite," Tony interjected.

"Anyway. Nice to meet you, too. As the best friend I'm obligated to tell you that I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Fair enough. As the sugar baby I'll be transparent in seducing him for his money to make your job easier."

Rhodey sighed; God there were two of them. "And it all becomes clear."

"Speaking of! Come here, you." Tony drew closer and yanked Stephen down into a kiss, ignoring Fi's squeak when she was jostled. Rhodey scoffed. He nodded to Happy who had returned with the small family's bags.

"You got it, man?" He asked.

"I'm good," Happy answered. The doctor hadn't packed much. After a while Rhodey threw up his hands.

"I realize he's a doctor but if you could stop examining each other's tonsils we'd all appreciate it!" Rhodey exclaimed. "Think of the kid, she's suffering." Sofia was picking at the collar of Tony's jacket, eyes half-lidded and lips twisted into a pout.

"Ugh—he used to be fun, you know," Tony said to Stephen when he let him up for air.

"My fun never included watching your scrawny ass, I assure you." Rhodey ignored his gasp of offense and protests about the shape of his ass.

"Before I wow you with my extravagant home I figured we could get some breakfast. It's vegetarian friendly for the freak in the group." Tony said as he helped Stephen into the car. Rhodey happily took a bench for himself while Sofia bounced between her father and Tony.

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked it."

"I will throw myself out of this vehicle," Rhodey threatened. Sofia seemed to find him funny as she bared her teeth at him in a rather…odd smile. "Hey, uh. I don't mean to be rude but those are some canines-"

"It's a quirk," Stephen said.

The car ride was spent making small talk and Rhodey making good on his promise to make sure Stephen was as he said. Pepper had handled the background check this time, so that was one worry off his mind, but he'd always preferred the hands-on approach.

On paper it looked to be a much better match than the other travesties. Stephen had his own successful career to start—the average neurosurgeon salary blew Rhodey's out of the water—and he didn't actually need to depend on Tony for anything. He didn't have a shopping addiction that needed funding and he wasn't looking to start his own company. He came in with his own money and was clearly too arrogant to throw away years of hard work and prestige to hang off Tony's star. All pluses.

Then Stephen got in a bizarre slap fight with Tony while trying to pay for their meal. Great. So they were just kinky dumbasses, which Rhodey could have done without for the sake of his sanity.

Yet, he kept an eye out—he was a soldier, after all. As the day wore on he laid on the charm to the point Tony actually seemed to get a little put out (that was fucking hilarious so he continued to do it just because). Rhodey only allowed his guard to drop when the sun set and Sofia was put to bed in her new room. The look of awe and surprise on Stephen's face after Tony turned on the fairy lights couldn't be faked. He'd smiled so brightly Tony went stupid (Rhodey was going to mock the shit out of him). He set about tucking in an equally enchanted Sofia. They left her reaching up towards the ceiling, twisting her hands in different ways. It was enough to let Rhodey finally relax and turn in himself—he did not want to overhear anything unfortunate.

He finished his ablutions with military precision, only to remember he left his phone on the dining room table.

"Damn," he muttered. After a moment of indecision he decided to risk it.

The mansion's lights had dimmed, allowing Rhodey to easily make his way towards the kitchen without being seen. Tony and Stephen had retired to the couch. Tony's arm was thrown across the back, like Rhodey had taught him, and their heads were bent towards the other. Not wanting to disturb them, he made his way to the table and quickly found his phone. As he was tip-toeing back he stopped when Stephen held up a box.

"I don't have anything like a red orchid to give you. But I wanted to give you something in return. Not out of quid pro quo, of course. I simply believe that you deserve a symbol of my desire and commitment."

Tony startled. "I don't-"

"I know you don't do it for a reward; I am not giving this to you out of reward, but because I want to and I think you should have something for yourself. A love of mine gave me a watch, once. I treasured it. I clung to it even when the face was broken because it was all of the things I couldn't bear to let go of. I felt frozen. But life happens, and I had to leave it behind. It was only last week I realized, for the first time in a long time, that I haven't thought about it in weeks. You are the one I think about, now. My future. So, I made this for you."

Rhodey quickly took his exit.

Chapter Text

Stephen's manners were no longer as atrocious, but the way he marched into The Ancient One's rooms was, admittedly, rude. She paid no mind—merely placing a finger between the pages of her…romance novel. Who knew?

"We can't let him be kidnapped," Stephen said the moment he was two feet away from her. "There must be some other way. Surely he can learn his lesson without suffering something so traumatic and damaging!"

The look she gave him wasn't quite pity, but it made him scowl regardless. "You know as well as I that that is impossible. Fixed events-"

"I don't care! All I went through was a car crash that was my own damn fault. Even on Tony's worst days he's not nearly as terrible as I was—still kinda am to be honest!"

"You are a work in progress, yes."

"…You enjoy this, don't you?"

"Quite."

Stephen shook his head and threw himself down beside her. "Tony—he doesn't deserve-"

"Oh Stephen." Her soft voice was sufficient to take the wind out his sails. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself.

"He shouldn't have to be tortured to have the chance to do better." The thought hurt. It hurt so acutely he wondered how he was going to look Tony in the face, knowing he was going to stand idly by, again, as the man suffered.

"It is cruel," The Ancient One agreed. "But it is beyond our power. Do not forget your lessons."

Acceptance. Surrender. To be a practitioner of the Mystic Arts is to surrender to the energies and flow around them. This was the story the Universe had crafted for Anthony Stark. No matter the dimension, no matter the war (be it the Viet Nam War, the Revolutionary War, the War of the Roses, or a conflict in the future), Tony's path to become Iron Man required him to be forged in fire. It was going to happen no matter what Stephen did. Why Tony Stark? Why him? 

"May I offer a suggestion?" She asked, bringing his mind back to the present.

"What is it?"

"Be there for him. Support him. Uplift him—and allow him do the same in turn. Basically, love him."

Stephen turned away from her. "Are you preaching the power of love to me?" The retort sounded weak. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

Stephen swallowed the protest and bowed his head. With a sigh he opened a portal back to Malibu. He had left Tony counting sheep and snuck outside to where JARVIS's eyes couldn't reach. He returned as the sun crept above the horizon, casting the mansion in a red orange glow and chasing away the grays of predawn. Stephen opened the patio doors that lead into the kitchen, posture slumped.

"Is everything all right, Doctor Strange?" Jarvis asked.

"I was just watching the sunrise. Hoping for answers, you could say."

"Have you found any?"

"I wish I did." Stephen shook himself. Right. He may not be able to shield Tony from future pain, but he could make himself useful. "When Tony does deign to eat breakfast, what does he have?"

"Coffee."

Stephen chuckled. Of course. "Food-wise, my clever A.I."

"He has a fondness for pancakes and eggs. Sunny side up."

"Then that's what we'll have." From scratch—as if there were any other option.

"You will find everything you need in the pantry and refrigerator. Thank you, Doctor Strange. Perhaps Sir will continue to take on a consistent eating schedule under your influence."

"I'll get him on an eating and sleeping schedule yet, don't you worry." For all her faults Beverly Strange had been insistent on her children being able to feed themselves.

He and JARVIS kept their voices low as they chatted. Stephen found JARVIS to be incredible and had no trouble informing him and Tony of such. To be able to create such a sophisticated A.I.  as young as he had made the mind boggle. Stephen was well-aware of how smart he was, but this was revolutionary. The first pancakes were on the griddle when Tony staggered in. Stephen sent him a quick smile before returning his attention to the eggs.

"Ooh, let me objectify you for a second." Tony pointedly paused and looked him up and down. "That's the stuff. Coffee?"

"Will be done in a few moments so sit your ass down."

"Yeah, order me around, sweetheart."

"I plan on it."

Tony stretched with a groan. The thin bracelet Stephen had given him on the first night of their vacation reflected in the early morning light. He said, "I can't believe I forgot how early you get up—wait. Are those-?"

"A little A.I. told me you had a soft spot for eggs and pancakes." Stephen flipped the pancake with practiced ease.

"Yeah...yeah I do." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

The silence that fell was like a well-worn blanket. When the machine was done Tony fixed them both a cup of coffee. He dumped an obscene amount of sugar and cream in his, gleefully ignoring Stephen's judging glower. He then busied himself with watching Stephen cook, sipping at his mug with his elbows on the island's marble counter top.

"You're amazing," Tony said. But this time it sounded different. He ducked his head for a moment, but Stephen still saw the red flush creeping up his neck.

"I'm only cooking eggs but thank you."

"No, it's just." Tony cleared his throat. "Okay, so, I had a speech and everything but I guess that's fucked because you had to go and make me my comfort food for breakfast with the sun at your back. Who does that? It's distracting."

Stephen smirked. "You had a speech?"

"Right. Sure did. A good speech. A great speech. The best speech."

"Am I going to hear the actual speech or are you going to keep talking about it?"

"Right, fuck this. Marry me…and stuff."

Oh.

Stephen had finished and already turned off the heat so the food wouldn't burn; this was a good thing as he stopped completely to stare at Tony from across the island. It was all he could do not to drop the pan and spatula in his grasp.

Oh.

Tony spoke first, voice fond, "Will you look at that. I finally got you to shut up."

Stephen let out a short, choking noise. He took a few moments to gather himself. "And…'stuff'?"

"Filthy, x-rated stuff that is probably illegal in multiple states."

"Sodomy is actually illegal in a couple, last I checked."

"Wow, we're criminals."

"I was an upstanding citizen before I met you, Mr. Stark." Stephen set down a plate nearly overflowing with food before him. "Eat."

"Only when I get an answer. I can't stop thinking about you, you asshole! You're there when I wake and when I go to bed and I keep comparing your eyes to everything and you are so fucking smart I could probably get off on your brain alone."

"Tony-"

"We're good together, right? I'm a mess over you. For once it's the good kind of mess and not the self-destructive kind my therapist kept harping on me about."

Stephen walked around the counter to invade Tony's space, straddling him awkwardly but neither cared as they embraced.

"What have I told you about asking stupid questions?" He whispered.

Tony grinned and Stephen kissed him, then. Kissed him desperately because he couldn't save him. He couldn't prevent him from feeling the pain that was coming. But he could make Tony happy even if it took everything within him to do so. Tony's fingers dug into his hips and pulled their groins together. Stephen hissed out a curse and let himself be walked back until his lower back touched the island behind him.

"Bend over," Tony panted. "Wanna fuck you." Stephen ought to have seen that coming (ha) but he still got weak-kneed every time.

"N-Not in the kitchen, douchebag."

"C'mon." Tony pressed against him and fuck his dick was so-

"He does have a point, Sir."

"Are you actually cock-blocking me right now, Jarvis?" Tony groaned.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Sir." There was no way he didn't.

Stephen's mouth was moving before he realized it. "Tony, hush. The bedroom isn't that far away. And the food will keep for the three minutes this will take-" Stephen couldn't stop his yelp when Tony's thick hand came down his ass. It was strong enough that he lurched forward and had to brace himself against the counter top. Oh—that was—huh. Okay. Well. He didn't know that about himself. Any hope of Tony not noticing was dashed by his thoughtful hum.

"My, my. We should explore that, don't you think?"

"Breakfast-"

"Will be eaten cold and it will be worth it. Sofia won't be up for another hour. Let's go."

"Gentle reminder the walls have not been soundproofed," Jarvis said as Stephen was herded to the bedroom.

"Make a note for me to fix that later."

Stephen was learning quite a bit about himself these days.

Watching Tony, smug with hair puffed from a fresh shower, eat his food with gusto even though it was cold did stupid things to his poor heart. He was beautiful in all the best ways and Stephen had to make this work. He had to.

"You still haven't said the words," Tony said with abundant cheer.

"I'm fairly certain I said plenty of things involving the word 'yes' a half hour ago."

"Let me hear it one more time for prosperity."

Stephen rolled his eyes but didn't stop the smile. "Yes, I'll marry you."

They had opted to keep it to themselves (and Sofia, who wasn't a snitch). They wanted to bask in the feeling of it without anyone else knowing. It would be known eventually, but neither was looking forward to the public throwing in their unwanted two cents and turning it into a shitshow. It was also not the best time for same-sex marriage. Massachusetts was the only state that even allowed it; California was thought to be the next following a State Supreme Court decision, but Proposition 8 had quickly put that to risk. It would most likely pass come November. It was issue not even Tony's money could solve.

So they said nothing, even when lunch rolled around and Pepper and Rhodey stopped by to join them. The Lieutenant Colonel had to return to Lancaster the second day into their weeklong vacation, but the city was close enough that he had no issue returning for friendly get-togethers.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person," Pepper greeted as he relieved her of her burden. She had brought in dessert for dinner and was kind enough to bring a gift for Sofia. Sofia grasped the teddy bear with wide eyes before dashing off to show Tony her prize. Pepper blinked. "Was that an arm-?"

"It's easier to let her keep it."

"Huh. Well, let's have a seat so we can chat."

"This sounds like a trap. Christine used to say the same thing and the next thing I know she'd start talking about 'respecting one's coworkers' and 'ethics'."

"I can see how that would be a problem," said Pepper, no doubt very used to weirdness.

"Mm, yes. 'Get good,' as the youth would say."

Her lips finally quirked into a grin. "You're not that old."

"You'd be surprised. Tea?"

"Thank you. I can't believe you got Tony keeping tea in his kitchen. Darjeeling, if you have it."

Stephen nodded and set about adding the leaves to the pot. "I'd suggest you flutter your eyelashes, but as he's your employer that may not be wise. However, he is a sucker for that."

"Excuse you!" Tony called from the living room.

"Oh, good. That saves me from repeating myself."

Pepper snickered and folded her hands comfortably in her lap. She seemed to be considering her next words so Stephen left her to it. He had to admit it was strange (ugh) to sit across from her now. He had known what the future lay in store for her with the man currently talking Rhodey's ear off on the couch. He had seen her daughter. Some part of him felt the guilt keenly even with the truth was that Morgan Stark's soul would come when it would. 

"You're probably expecting some sort of shovel talk."

"Something of the sort," Stephen admitted.

"Well, don't worry. I never saw the point to those, and honestly, Tony's doing so well a part of me wants to thank you."

Stephen removed the kettle from the stove. "Thank you. I hope I'm living up to expectations."

"Oh, we'll see about that. But, sad to say, you're already leagues ahead of the others. He never introduced anyone to us. It was a long, long line of—oh, sorry."

"It's fine, Ms. Potts. I'm hardly a blushing virgin myself." Not a virgin, but he'd been blushing a lot these days. Which pissed him off. Pepper shook her head.

"Pepper, please." She accepted her tea with a thankful smile. "Just treat each other right, please. Tony puts up a good act, but he feels deeply."

"…I'll do my best, Pepper. I promise."

Pepper caught his eye and tilted her head towards the stairs down to his lab. Tony nodded and gathered up his and Stephen's plates and took them to the sink.

"Hey, babe?"

"Mmhmm?" Stephen looked up from feeding Sofia a bit of chicken. She had finally branched out from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches but eating was slow going. Tony leaned down and wrapped his arms around his fiancé. The thought still made him giddy. Stephen relaxing into him was even better.

"Now I know I promised this was a week of sun, sand, surf, and sweetness and that I wasn't even going to think about working," Tony began.

"Sweetness?" Pepper asked, only to stop at Rhodey's slowly shaking head.

"You did. But I assume something happened?" Asked Stephen.

"Just a little something I need to check up on. Pep and I will be down in the lab so you and Fi start the movie without me."

Stephen yawned, sudden, then shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs. "If I can make it that far." He then pressed a kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth and waved him off. "Fine, fine. But I expect you to make up for it."

"Oh I plan on it, baby." Tony kissed his neck and straightened. "Alright, Pep, to the lab. See ya in a bit, sweetie." Sofia beamed and waved.

JARVIS activated the lights once Tony punched the code into the keypad. Pepper followed close behind, lifting her black briefcase onto a nearby table. She pulled out a manila folder.

"Ugh. Analog. Really?" Tony teased as the holo-displays came to life.

"Hush, you," Pepper said, slapping it into Tony's hand. Tony flipped through the papers with a hum.

"This all you could find?"

"You're lucky I got that much. Whoever this SHIELD is, they're not easy to find."

Tony clicked his tongue in displeasure. "Yeah, I was kinda expecting this…" He plopped down on his chair and idly spun around, eyes trained on the ceiling.

"Then why have me spend hours on it?"

"Because you're so good at your job, Pepper! Best PA ever. Remind me to get you a mug."

"I'd prefer a custom-made bag."

"Done and done. Don't tell Stephen, he gets jealous."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Are you going to share your thoughts?"

Tony sighed and plopped the folder down on his desk. "Jarvis, tell her what happened when I had you run this Coulson's number?"

"The number was traced to a defunct factory in Nevada. When I investigated, I was able to identify a convoluted trail of ownership in several shell companies before it went cold overseas."

"Then…that means," Pepper trailed off as she worked through the implications.

"When I asked you to dig up information on the supposed government agency, I knew uncovering any substantial information would be a long shot through legal means," Tony said. "I was looking for confirmation."

"SHIELD has resources beyond the typical agency," Pepper finished. Tony pointed at her.

"Exactly. Sometimes it's not about what you find, it's what you don't. SHIELD isn't strictly American. Oh, sure, the good agent had spoken a truth but it wouldn't have been close to the unvarnished whole. And while I love tooting my own horn in loud and impressive ways there is no reason I shouldn't have heard of them if they were operating off of our tax dollars. Yeah, I got the strongest relationships in the DoD, but there've also been a myriad of Senators and Congressmen and local reps to visit Stark properties over the decades." 

"I know, I'm the one who writes the Christmas cards."

"And you are so masterful! Anyway, as you well know the US may preach a good game about electoral freedom but the fact of the matter is once a politician is elected they tend to stay in office until retirement. And I hadn't heard a goddamn whisper about SHIELD even when the liquor was flowing. Granted, it's not like I've been looking for secret government agencies, but my clearance level isn't anything to shake a stick at, either."

Pepper made a noise of agreement. "I've been thinking about that. If this is the case they must have been around for a while."

"If they were new there was no way I wouldn't have noticed, high on uppers or no. The resources involved in creating, staffing, outfitting, legitimizing the damn thing would be impossible to hide. I'd found out about the Department of Homeland Security when it was just a memo."

"Should you have?"

"In my defense I was bored."

"That's not a defense."

"It is when you're sma~rt," Tony sang while JARVIS flashed #1 Genius on a screen. It had been worth programming that in. Pepper ignored it like the fuddy duddy she was.

"So we're looking at an agency that, most likely, operates outside of American purview with an unknown amount of  resources. Are they even part of a government?"

"Hard to say." 

Pepper frowned in worry. "Tony, this sounds big. Very big. What can we do? At the end of the day SI is just a weapons manufacturer."

"But I'm not."

"What do you mean?" Pepper asked. Tony leaned his elbows on his knees, eyes focused on the schematics of the Jericho. It was the most advanced and destructive tech he had created so far. And yet, looking at it now, Tony felt…unsatisfied.

"Steph asked me a while back to make a new life goal. And for the life of me I couldn't think of a single thing. I never had a real choice in doing something else—not that I don't love what I do, but honestly it's the building and designing and the mental challenge of it all that I actually like. Obie says my weapons will protect the world, and…maybe…but-"

"Tony, are you-"

"That can't be all. This can't be all I am capable of! And now these assholes show up from who knows where and I really gotta wonder what the hell I'm doing. What the fuck am I doing?" Tony took a moment to stop grinding his teeth into dust. To think the most he'd had to worry about up until now was dodging Virginia Potts and his sobriety.

"Do you think Stephen's in danger? What happened was an accident, right?"

"Publicly. But I got an in with the FBI and when they investigated they found this huge crack that ran through the foundation and deep underground."

"That…that doesn't just appear out of nowhere."

"They don't have a clue. Solid earth one moment and then something splits it. The geologists they've consulted are baffled."

"Okay, this is getting weird-"

"Uh. Yeah." Tony kept his gaze on his work but Pepper knew him all too well after a decade plus of working together and several years of friendship. And she was intelligent herself.

"…You know."

Tony shrugged. "I got a guess."

"Your 'guesses' tend to be correct or damn close. It's not SHIELD's existence, per se, that worries you. You could care less about top secret agencies—government and politics never interested you."

"Yeah, Howard hated that."

Pepper continued, "But you're very worried about them digging up something you won't like. Even more worrying is what they're going to do when they find out what they want."

Tony's eyes flickered to hers then. He didn't bother wasting his energy keeping his usual grin on his face nor did he bother refuting her words.

"Tony. How did Stephen survive?"

He sighed, long and low and tired. "I watched the building collapse. It sank inward. It didn't damage the nearby buildings and not a lot of debris got on the street. He really shouldn't have."

Pepper's heels clicked on the hard floor as she drew close and placed an arm on his.

"Sofia was crying and pointing and Stephen wasn't there. I searched but he wasn't with the others. He wasn't outside. I didn't want to, but I knew from the damage no one could have…" He cleared his throat. "By the second hour I was making lists in my head of who I'd need to call and the arrangements and figuring out just how much money I'd need to bribe the city of New York into letting me keep Fi."

"Tony-"

"But Fi refused to leave and I didn't want to, either, even after I'd been questioned. And then Stephen…walks out. He walks out injury free. He scraped himself up a bit, but he was totally fine. His clothes weren't even torn."

"You must have been—Tony I can't imagine how you must have felt."

"I still don't know how I feel about it. But at the time I didn't care how he survived, only that he did. Nothing else mattered. And then this so-called government agency comes up wanting to ask questions. I couldn't let them. I can't let them.  I've seen the reports. I managed to keep the local media quiet but this SHIELD is an entirely different beast."

Pepper tugged at her ponytail, a nervous gesture she'd yet to kick. She eventually said, "There must be a logical explanation. Maybe…he got lucky."

"That'd be some luck. It doesn't even explain how he climbed his way out of tons of concrete. There wasn't even a bruise—and I checked very carefully-"

"You can't help yourself, can you?"

"Guilty. But you see the issue. Something causes a department store building to collapse and the only person caught up in it strolls out hours later."

"You think Stephen caused it."

Tony spun his chair around to face her fully. "I know he did. If he didn't directly, he was involved. The how? No idea. The why? Even less so. In addition to losing the little evidence they did have my source in the FBI told me that they were ordered to stop investigating. Suddenly."

"SHIELD."

"I'd drink one of DUM-E's motor oil concoctions if it wasn't—that wasn't a request!" Tony sighed when the bot beeped morosely.

"Do you think," Pepper paused to gather her thoughts, "I mean, we've heard the stories about people with special abilities. The mutants? I don't know a lot about them—a lot of it is hearsay and outlandish rumors and conspiracy theories."

"They're a very small part of the population. There's actually a number of them in New York—they're masquerading as a normal school for obvious reasons."

Pepper startled and cried out, "What, really?"

"They're not doing any harm and the government made a deal with some Professor so they could operate peacefully. I didn't delve too deeply because it wasn't any of my business and there were kids involved. Less I know the better."

"You seem to get bored a lot. You could use the time to finish your paperwork instead of hacking government servers."

"The paperwork is the reason I get bored. Pep, I gotta keep my skills sharp somehow! Although, it did lose its appeal the first time I did it back at M.I.T. on a dare."

"I can't believe you've only been arrested twice."

"Neither can I, to be honest." Tony groaned and ran his fingers through his hair with sharp pulls. "As I am now, I can't do much if SHIELD presses the issue."

"If they've gone to such trouble to stay a secret, why give you a card?"

"They had no choice. They could have approached at any time and used any of the known departments. The fact they didn't means they wanted to be known on their terms. It was a calculated risk."

Pepper looked confused for a moment before her expression cleared. "I see. If Stephen was the cause this could make him panic."

"Panicked people fuck up. Get sloppy. Are easily manipulated. And since they didn't wait until I went back to Malibu, I believe they wanted to tug at my curiosity or test the waters to see if I'm going to interfere. Which, yeah, I'm interfering.

"Information gathering goes both ways. You have to expose yourself to get anything useful, be it via spies, bugs, tracking devices, whatever. It's not risk-free. I've played it safe until now. If it were just me it'd be different—I'd go for it. But Stephen's the target and Sofia would get caught in the crossfire; if I fuck up SHIELD stands to gain a lot."

"But like you said, if you want to get some actual answers you'll have to take a bigger risk."

"I know."

"So what will you do?"

"Wait. I can't be impatient on this. I just need an opening."

"Will you tell Stephen?"

Tony knew he should, but a part of him wondered if he would be opening Pandora's box if he did so. Because he liked the way things were—he didn't want to lose what he hadn't even known he'd wanted.

Maybe Stephen was some mutant. Or something else entirely. Tony had time to come to terms with the thought and he found he really didn't care. It made him feel a little better, to be honest—if Stephen could survive a building falling on him there wasn't much Tony had to worry about.

The stone in his bracelet glinted in the bright lights.

Tony was disturbed from his thoughts by Pepper standing and walking back to her briefcase.

"Do you want me to keep digging?"

"Nah. As I said that was confirming what I had already suspected."

"Very well, Mr. Stark." She took out another folder, twice as thick.

"What's that?"

"I figured that since I have you here and that it would be best to keep you honest, I brought you some actual paperwork."

Tony groaned and buried his head into his arms.

By the time he bid Pepper good night Sofia and Rhodey had relocated to the couch. David Bowie in all his big haired, made up glory swayed his hips in high definition.

"So tell me again why Sofia's favorite move is The Labyrinth?" Rhodey asked, briefly tearing his attention away from Jennifer Connelly willing to risk it all for the Goblin King—which was understandable.

"The question you should be asking is how could it not be?" Tony quipped. At Rhodey's unimpressed look (he did that really well) Tony shrugged. "We tried the typical Disney thing but the only time she expressed any kind of interest was when Maleficent transforms into a dragon and does her damnedest to burn the Prince alive. Which is coincidentally Stephen's favorite thing and I'm not sure what that says about them? We had actually put her to bed and settled on indulging our David Bowie fantasies when she came back out to join us and…that was it."

"…Huh. Anyway, Stephen's already retired for the night."

"Oh has he, Jane Austen?"

"Shut it. Please remember you opted for open plan and there's no soundproofing."

Tony was pressing a kiss to Sofia's head and heading to his room before Rhodey finished his sentence. "Thanks for babysitting honey bear bye!"

Rhodey scoffed and opened his mouth to reply only to falter when Sofia glowered at him and pressed a finger to her lips. He coughed. "My bad."

Stephen didn't stir when Tony opened the door. A small book lay spread open on his chest where it must have fallen when he slipped into sleep. Tony directed JARVIS to turn the lights down to their lowest setting and headed to the bathroom for a shower. He was a little tired—a little worried about what it all meant. He trusted Stephen; he wouldn't have proposed if he didn't. Tony was content with waiting for him to come clean. The problem was their circumstances may not allow it to go on for too long. Tony could make all the plans in the world but if he didn't have all the facts then…He cut the water off.

Tony padded back into the bedroom. Stephen had shifted onto his side and curled up but had done nothing else. Tony resisted the urge to run his fingers across his shoulders and down his side. He resolved to shelve the issue for now. He was tired, frustrated with his lack of results, and he needed to spend time working out how to get the power and influence he needed. Tony hadn't felt so toothless since Howard, and he loathed it.

He sat at the edge of the bed and worked the towel across his hair. He shut his eyes and hummed Bowie's Underground. Tony had reached the bridge when he shuddered in the chill of the room.

"Worst part after a shower, I swear—J, why is the air conditioning so high?"

"It's at your preferred setting, Sir," Jarvis answered. Tony rubbed his arms. The goosebumps told him different. Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to straighten and tug the towel off his hair. There was nothing, of course. The shadows stretched long in the low light. Tony turned back to the bed at the sound of Stephen's breath hitching and his body curling up into fetal. Another hitch had Tony reaching over and pressing a hand to his leg.

"Hey, babe-"

Stephen jolted awake. "What-?"

"Sorry, sorry! You seemed upset. You okay?"

Stephen rubbed his face and grunted something under his breath. Tony chuckled softly and climbed up on the bed to join him. He pulled him close, but nearly flinched backward at the chill of his skin. He concentrated on running a hand up and down Stephen's arm to warm him. Jarvis had thankfully adjusted the AC back to human tolerance.

"You okay?" Tony repeated. Stephen didn't answer for a long moment; he pressed his face into Tony's neck.

"I think," Stephen mumbled, "I had a bad dream."

"You're freezing. Come on, get under the covers."

Chapter Text

Tony held Sofia up on his hip as he poured another bottle of brown liquor down the drain.

"Listen, sweetie, I don't want you keeping secrets from me or your dad. But just this once we won't tell him about you trying to drink my whiskey. Sound good?"

Sofia looked perplexed but nodded obediently. Tony sighed at the sight of the collection that cost thousands be wasted on fish. "Fi, you're killing me here." Her eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. "No, no! Not literally!"

"Morn—uh, what are you doing?" Rhodey asked, pausing as he approached the kitchen. He was covered in a faint sheen of sweat that spoke of an early morning workout in the mansion's gym.

"You know how it's precious when small children copy everything you do? Well, it gets less precious and more horrifying when that extends to your vices."

Rhodey made a face in sympathy. "How did she even get into the liquor cabinet?"

"Uh, funny thing. I got a couple of different stashes for when you, Pepper, or Happy get on my case." Now Rhodey looked far less sympathetic.

"Tony, I swear-!"

"I know, I know. This is karma dropkicking me in the gut will you help out before Steph wakes up and he tosses my ass off the cliff??"

"How much do you even have?" Rhodey, the bestest friend ever, took his place at the sink to get several bottles going.

"I honestly have no idea. But the stuff in the cabinet can stay for now. Looks like several politicians are about to get some very nice gifts."

"Politicians?"

"Yup. I figure it's time I start being a responsible citizen."

"…I don't know what you're planning but you be careful with whatever you're doing." Rhodey's back was turned so he didn't see Tony's smile. Tony had wanted to bring him in but his position in the military made it difficult. Perhaps later when he was on better footing. Rhodey worked his ass off to get where he needed to be and Tony wasn't going to do anything jeopardize that. Not anymore.

Ugh, responsibility.

"I am the epitome of discretion, sugar plum. Speaking of I'm gonna open the patio doors so it doesn't smell like a bougie frat party in here."

Rhodey scoffed. "Get breakfast started while you're doing that. I want an omelette as tribute."

"Sure thing. Alright, Fi, I'm about to show you how to make the perfect omelette. Prepare to be amazed. Bedazzled. Inspired."

"It's an omelette, Tones."

"Hush up and keep pouring."

By the time Tony ensured Sofia was well versed in omelette-making Rhodey had drained and rinsed the last of the scotch because he was particular like that. Rhodey looked at the myriad of glass bottles on the counter with a scowl he must have gotten from his mother.

"Seriously?"

"I can't hear you over my awesome cooking skills, but we should put those in the recycling before Stephen sees and asks questions."

"Should you be going cold turkey?"

"Probably not but Fi likes to do as I do for some reason. Sweetie, go see if your dad's up. If he is, run back so I got some warning." Tony turned to Rhodey as she dashed off. "I can't believe Stephen lets me spend time with her! What if she grows up to be a high functioning alcoholic and drug addict with daddy issues and a sex tape? …Oh my god, the sex tape-"

"Whoa, whoa! Breathe, man. In and out, that's good."

"How the hell could I have forgotten—granted I wasn't totally sober but still! Do you think Stephen knows about it? Shit, that must be a deal breaker. Do you think he knows?"

"Hey, it's okay. Everybody knew at the time it came out-"

"Stephen would have been around 9, 10 years old. I doubt he was paying attention."

"…I can't believe I forgot about the age difference."

"I take pride in being a sugar daddy and it's hurtful you don't care. Besides, the man's an old soul. What if-!" Fortunately, the pitter-patter of Sofia's feet halted his panic and spurred them both to stash the last of the bottles in the pantry. Tony slammed the door shut right before Stephen and Sofia came into view. His eyes narrowed in suspicion but was distracted by the food on the kitchen island. Tony sent Sofia a discreet thumbs up. She winked.

"How's my darling? My sun? My Milky Way? The reason my heart beats-"

"You're ridiculous and forgiven for whatever you don't want me to know about," Stephen said as he shuffled towards the teapot.

"Isn't he perfect?" Tony asked Rhodey.

"You exhaust me," Rhodey replied.

"I made breakfast!"

"I can see that," Stephen yawned.

"Wow, you really are tired."

"Not all of us has the libido of a sexually-repressed evangelical going to college for the first time."

"That sounds incredibly specific for a man who moved from a small Nebraskan town to a university in New York City."

Stephen smirked into his mug. "Does it?"

"In the interests of cultural exchange you should tell me all about it-"

"I will beat the both of you if you don't stop!" Rhodey exclaimed. Sofia contentedly sipped her juice, ignoring all of them.

"Sour patch. I can't help it! It's a gift that keeps on giving. And giving. And givi-"

"That's it, I'm taking you out!" Rhodey started to stand from his place at the table when Stephen held up his hand.

"Lt. Colonel Rhodes! With all due respect I'll not have violence around my daughter," Stephen said with a sharp tone.

Rhodey blinked, then frowned. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm fucking with you. Do what you want."

Tony burst out into laughter when Rhodey scowled and gathered up his plate. "I'm taking this." Then he scooped up Sofia. "And this and we're going to the living room away from you two a-holes."

"Good, because you're babysitting again today! I'm going to show Steph around!" Tony called after him.

"If I had an arm free I'd flip you off!"

"Noted! Love you!"

Stephen canted his head to the side and examined him. "You're taking me somewhere?"

"I've been remiss in showing my baby off," Tony cooed.

"Huh. I thought you wanted me to avoid the press."

"That was to let things cool off and make sure no one asked uncomfortable questions about your miraculous escape from a collapsed building." Stephen winced. "Exactly. They are never going away, but now, after a dry spell, we have more control over the situation. Trust me—I've been doing publicity shit since I was four."

"Then why all the scandals?"

"Combination of not caring, pissing off dad, and a cry for help if my old therapist is to be believed. I really should consider going back. But anyway, I got a reason to be more cautious this time."

Stephen softened at the admission—it was a subtle thing where his eyes and lips lost their tension. He had a great poker face but Tony had picked up tells in his armor.

"That's sweet."

"And I really wanna show you off." Tony leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

With a closet full of designer and stylish bespoke wear, Tony rarely had to worry about how he looked. He had more trouble choosing his vehicle. Stephen tapped on his phone as Tony examined each ride as if he hadn't memorized every spec and feature of each.

"What are you even doing?" Stephen sighed.

"Gotta choose the one with the best backseat for us to fool around in."

"I'm not letting you fuck me in the backseat of a car."

"Aw, not even a little fellatio?"

"I should dump you for actually saying the word 'fellatio.'"

"Damn. Here I was going to drop thousands on a new watch but if you're sure?" Tony smirked when Stephen pointedly walked to the Audi Coupe and opened the door.

"Get in the car."

"That's what I thought."

The weather bordered on picturesque. The cyan colored sky contrasted well with the yellow sun with only a cloud or two to be seen. The windows and top went down in favor of enjoying the breeze and the seaside highway as they zoomed towards LA. Tony didn't have much planned. Stephen wasn't the touristy sort—lunch at his usual place and some shopping would be more than enough.

"Is there anything I should know before I interact with the media? The hospital was very clear they didn't want me to say anything."

Tony snickered. "They have so little faith in you."

"Indeed. I am a gentler man."

"Sometimes you even brush against nice."

"Slow down, honey, let's not go too far." Stephen's slow smile with his dark shades and hint of drawl had Tony clearing his throat.

"We absolutely sure about the no backseat thing?"

"The watch I was promised had better be magnificent."

"Oh ho! I love being God's favorite."

"I doubt God has much to do with that."

Stark Industries' headquarters was in LA and despite most people's impressions he was a creature of habit. He ate lunch at the same spot (whenever he remembered to eat) and usually had the same thing. Tony saw no reason to deviate. He drove them down well traveled streets clogged with cars and pointed out a few places that may hold Stephen's interest. Stephen, to his credit, did look interested in hearing about Tony's history. Stark Industries had only a nominal place out on the west coast before Tony, reading the signs, made the decision to expand and put more company processes closer to Silicon Valley. It clearly paid off. He was also straightforward about his hazy memories of nights in exclusive clubs where, if fairness were actually a thing, the LAPD would have camped outside there instead of Black and Brown neighborhoods.

It would have been perfect if they weren't being followed.

He had noticed the man by pure chance. Average height, average build, average clothes. His hair was a mousy brown and his face could be called attractive if one enjoyed generic. Tony didn't clock on until he kept seeing him. He saw the smiling face through throngs of tourists taking pictures; he saw him loitering with the professional photographers with their expensive rigs. In the bistro and in the department store where Stephen coaxed him into buying two watches because he was an overachiever in everything including sugar baby-ing (Tony loved it). Tony was toying with the idea of calling the police when Stephen leaned into him.

"Do you know a place where we won't be seen?"

Goddammit this would happen when Tony was on the verge of fulfilling one of his fantasies.

"About that. It's almost evening—I was thinking we could head home-"

"I mean for the man following us. He won't stop until he gets what he wants." Stephen sounded resigned which caused Tony to eye him.

"You noticed."

"He wasn't being subtle."

"True enough. You know him?"

"No. But he wants me for something. I-" Stephen sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. "I really wanted to keep you out of this until—shit."

Tony swung his keyring about his index finger. It looked like he was going to get some answers, but he didn't care for the risk involved. Stephen nodded as if he could read Tony's mind.

"I know. I know it's a lot to ask but do you trust me?"

Billion dollar question, after everything.

"…My aviation division has several acres of land without a thing on it. Get in."

"Thank you."

"I'm a real sucker for blue eyes." The ignition roared to life and Tony shifted into gear.

The Santa Monica mountains loomed ahead. A discreet grey vehicle, as nondescript as the man that had been following them, pulled up behind. It trailed them down winding roads and past a gate declaring the land to be Stark property—trespassers prohibited. Stephen was staring fixedly ahead, tapping his lip in thought.

"So can I get an explanation before I meet some possible psycho with only one weapon and no one for miles?" Asked Tony.

"You have a weapon?"

"Of course I got a gun in the glove box I make them for a living, remember?"

"I haven't forgotten," Stephen trailed off, eyes flickering to the headlights reflected in the rearview. Tony whipped the steering wheel and went off road. He ignored the sound of scrub brush scraping against his car's detailing with some difficulty. Once he deemed them far enough away he came to a stop but left the engine on.

"I'm gonna need a lot of fellatio to make up for the damage to my undercarriage."

Stephen smirked then opened his door and got out. Tony cursed softly and unlocked the glove compartment. Simple handgun, no need for fancy. He loaded it with quick movements, ensured the safety was on, and ignored his training by tucking it into the back of his waistband. The other car came to a stop. Its lights lit up the ground between them.

"Any chance you'll wait in the car?" Stephen asked.

"Seriously? I'll need a lot more than fellatio for that bribe to work."

"Now you're just saying that on purpose."

"It's the love, baby."

The man entered the ring of light and stopped, hands tucked in his pockets. He smiled.

"My, my. Isn't life amusing?" He said.

Stephen crossed his arms. "You know who I am?"

"Huh. That's an odd question—of course I do. Never thought I'd see you on this dirt ball again, however."

Tony opened his mouth but forcefully bit back his comment. He'd hoped things would make more sense but he'd have to let it play out, first.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Stephen asked.

"After that debacle millennia ago?" What the hell? "Even I wouldn't have had the nerve. But here you are, parading your presence about. I've seen prostitutes with more discretion."

Tony choked and grimaced Stephen's glare. "Sorry. I have no idea what he's talking about but should I defend your honor or something?

"If you have to ask it's too late," Stephen snapped.

"Don't get huffy at me with your secrets! By the way, who the hell is this guy? …And why does he sound like James Earl Jones?"

"I'm a fan. Masterful thespian—I can appreciate that sort of talent. Would you prefer I look like this?" Then the man's face changed. Tony barely stopped himself from drawing his gun in shock. His features shifted and widened, making his skin bulge and teeth shift before settling into Jones in his prime. Tony blinked rapidly and glanced at Stephen to see if he was suffering from the same hallucination.

His fiancé, however, was stone faced.

"I can't walk around with this face for obvious reasons. Does this ease your mind?" The whatever-the-fuck said.

"No!" Shouted Tony. Because what the fuck??

"Ah well. One thing I've learned over the ages is that you can't please everybody." He glanced at Stephen; his face slackened in a move so over-exaggerated he must have been mocking. "Ah…you don't remember me, do you? Oh hoh hoh, this is rich! You just made yourself mortal and ran away with your tail tucked between your legs like a frightened bitch? Or, perhaps this is penance? Was mommy really that angry with you?"

"You. Are. Annoying." Stephen's eyes seemed to glow faintly in the lowlight.

"And you've always been a momma's boy. This doesn't surprise me, cousin."

Tony startled and now he was glancing between them like a tennis match.

"We are not kin," Stephen said.

"Oh, but we are." The man looked Tony over with a contemptuous sneer. "Drape yourself in their mortality and pathetic flesh all you want, I'm actually not judging you. They're amusing and a nice diversion from the tedium of immortality. Believe it or not, I've come to give you a warning, cousin. There are so few of us scattered about the universe I figured, why not?"

"Speaking of tedium, can I get a name or are you going to continue pontificating?"

The man smiled. "I am Thulsa."

Stephen didn't react at first, but recognition began to dawn and he now stared at the thing as he should have been from the start in Tony's opinion—like he was a monster. "Thulsa Doom."

"Ah…there he is." Thulsa laughed. "You've been announcing your presence left, right, and center. Whatever control you did have over your magic is long gone and that's going to cause a lot of trouble from beings who would love to take their revenge on your weakened state. I suggest you prepare."

"Did he say, 'magic?'" Asked Tony, but it went unanswered.

"Will that include yourself?" Stephen murmured.

"As I said, I've no interest in that anymore. The last decent humans have died thousands of years ago and I find this modern age amusing."

"And if I told you that we are once again entering a unique era?  That we are on the cusp of an extraordinary time with extraordinary people?"

Thulsa pursed his lips. "Does that include this jumpy creature?"

"Rude," Tony grunted.

"Of course it does. He is important. So very important." The soft tone of Stephen's voice was enough to drag Tony's gaze away from the thing before them. Thulsa hummed and shrugged.

"I'll be watching."

"You could have said that in a non-creepy way, I assure you."

"Where is the fun in that?"

They stared at each other.

"You're not going to just leave, are you?"

"Oh no, not at all." Thulsa shrugged. "You used to be magnificent. Try to make me."

"Tony, get in the car and drive," Stephen began.

"Oh don't even try that nonsense, Stephen," Tony snapped. Thulsa laughed in a high pitched shriek and James Earl Jones' handsome face shifted once more—this time into a skull. Then he shot forward with a speed that was inhuman. A scythe with a black blade appeared in his hands and he swung.

Tony wasn't thinking at this point. He'd gone past panic to a strange calm that preceded his life flashing before his eyes. A large, red-orange mandala with circular designs and criss-crossing lines appeared a moment before it connected. The bright light and the sound of grating metal made him wince. Stephen had—he had no idea how the other man was doing it.

"Are you sure you don't want to get in the car??" Stephen shouted.

"Will you be joining me in the car? Because if not you can shut up about that!"

"So the creature wishes to protect you? Aren't you two precious?" Taunted Thulsa.

"It's getting pretty weird that everyone says that."

"Agreed." Stephen made a gesture and the wind suddenly picked up into a tornado. Which holy shit. Thulsa continued laughing as he was sucked away, but he righted himself quickly and stilled the wind with a broad swing. He landed lightly on the ground. He swung downward—three black orbs materializing in the air. They crackled from arcs of lightning across their surface.

"I've decided, cousin—if I separate you from your mortality will you come back to yourself?" Thulsa laughed. The orbs shot towards the two of them, stirring up the dust and dirt. Three orange rings appeared in midair. Tony watched as two of them swallowed the attack—again, holy shit—but the third missed when the ball changed direction.

"Move, move!" Stephen shoved him to the side and dove the other way. It collided with the ground and the small explosion sent Tony flying. He landed hard on his back. A shrub somewhat broke his fall but he was going to feel it later.

"God-fucking-dammit," Tony groaned. He rolled onto his feet and grabbed his handgun from where it landed. He staggered into a run towards Stephen and Thulsa. Sparks flew from where Stephen's shields collided with the glistening blade. They locked in place but it was clear that Stephen was at a disadvantage. He strained under Thulsa's weight. Tony had no idea what the hell was happening but fuck this. Luckily Thulsa had dismissed him completely, leaving his back and side completely open. Tony thumbed off the safety and chambered a round.

"Why won't you fight back? Worried your pet will get caught in the crossfire?" Thulsa mocked and bore down. Stephen grunted and his arms shook.

"I don't kill—not anymore."

"Oh spare me. Not even the humans are so pathetic—they happily murder anyone and anything."

Tony had covered the distance at that point and raised the gun to the other's temple. "You're right."

Thulsa started to twist his head when Tony pulled the trigger. The crack echoed throughout the empty landscape. The sight of bone shattering and a body collapsing like cut strings ought to have disturbed him—but he cared more about examining Stephen to see if he was uninjured.

"You good?" Tony panted.

"…You shot him." Stephen said, eyes wide in shock.

"He was trying to kill my fiancé. I took exception to that." Tony sighed. He lowered his arm. "So, let's recap."

"Tony-"

"I just shot a poor man's Skeletor with a James Earl Jones fetish-

"I-"

"And you, apparently, are some kind of sexy Merlin with a mysterious past."

"…Inelegantly put but not all that wrong."

Tony rubbed his face because how?? That had been magic and he couldn't deny it he saw that shit and-

"What the fuck, Stephen?? When were you going to tell me??"

"How should I have, Tony? In what way could I have said anything that you would have believed?"

"You're a smart man, you could have figured it out! Is your name even Stephen??"

"Yes! Well, now it is!"

"What the fuck does that mean??"

"I don't know! I don't even know who I am anymore! For the longest time I thought I was just Stephen Vincent Strange, son of a farmer from goddamn Nebraska. I thought that was it! Then I learn magic and it's as if I'm finally able to breathe after so long. Only that's not true, either! I was half hoping Thulsa would tell me my name so I'd have something, but he didn't so I don't! I was going to tell you, I swear I was but things were so good for once! They were so good." Stephen sagged as if he had lost all wind in his sails. "I search for answers every night but nothing ever comes. I'm sorry, Tony. I thought I was protecting you. I didn't want to make your life…weird."

Tony swallowed back his anger—no, he was afraid. He had to admit that because Thulsa could have killed him with ease had he taken the fight seriously. He was afraid because everything he had thought he'd known about the world had been turned on its head. Mutants were at least understandable. Acceptable. Genetics at its core. But magic? Opening portals with ease and creating bombs out of nothing more than a thought?

Tony paced for lack of anything else to do. "You didn't want to make my life weird? How's that working out for you?"

"Terribly."

"So how much of your life is a lie?"

"None of it! Tony, this is all me!"

"You're a neurosurgeon! How does this reality breaking bullshit-"

"Magic adds to reality! Believe me, I get where you're coming from. When I first stumbled across it I was cynical and distrusting and pretty fucking traumatized."

"And then?"

"I saw the universe." Stephen looked at their feet, unable to make eye contact any longer. "Science, magic…they're not mutually exclusive. Our world is made all the richer because of their interplay. It's not either/or, but both/and."

Tony groaned. All he'd wanted to do today was have a nice lunch and some long overdue action in the backseat of his car like it was the 1950s after the sock hop. He glared at the body at their feet. He hated Thulsa Doom, then. It had been a good few months but life enjoyed fucking with him. And Stephen nearly died-

Stephen nearly died. Again.

The realization was enough to break through his rising temper. He'd stopped pacing so suddenly that Stephen froze as well—watching with resignation. Tony cursed under his breath. He'd almost lost him and once again he couldn't do shit. 

Tony inhaled, slow and deep and shoved away his desire for a drink. 

Okay, Stephen had a little magic thing going on. Fine. And was probably not even human. Whatever. Maybe there was something to Sofia's canines after all. Who gives a shit? They were his. He'd decided—and he wasn't going to let that go. Not anymore. 

He'd spent his entire existence being a spectator to his own life. He could ignore it and self-medicate with booze before but now? What the fuck was he doing?

"I'm gonna assume this Doom won't be the end of it."

"I'm sorry, but he won't be," came the quiet admission. Tony nodded.

Stephen was hunching his shoulders as if bracing himself for a blow. Yeah, Tony wasn't happy. The opposite of happy. But that pretty much decided things.

"So you didn't want to make my life strange, huh?" Tony pitched his voice low and soft and teasing.

Stephen made an odd sound in his throat and he stared at him. Damn, Tony was a sucker.

"You got an intense gaze there, Blue Eyes."

Stephen's breath hitched and he stumbled forward. The kiss was rough and more teeth than anything; his hands grasped Tony's ruined shirt as if Tony would fly away otherwise. The sudden inclusion of ozone in his scent made Tony's nose twitch. But it was hard to be afraid of magic when Stephen was warm and flushed against him. The adrenaline had yet to fade and his heart continued pumping in earnest. Stephen's lips were a big reason for that.

Which is what made Stephen's next remark so hilariously hypocritical.

"Really, Tony?" He breathed as if he wasn't at fault.

Tony eyed the backseat of his car forlornly. "Fighting excites me, don't judge."

"You are a piece of work."

"Which of my long list of character defects clued you in? But yeah, even I draw the line when there's a corpse nearby. Right." Tony dropped the magazine and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. He ejected the round left in the chamber. "Here's what we're gonna do. There's a shovel in the trunk and a ravine a few miles out. I think you can guess where I'm going with this." Satisfied the gun was clear and safety on he tucked it back into the waistband of his jeans.

"Why do you have a shovel in your trunk?"

"Sounds to me like you don't have a shovel in your trunk. Weren't you a Boy Scout?"

"What kind of—Tony, just leave him. He's not going to permanently die from a bullet to the brain."

"Figures. Well, that saves me from doing manual labor. Shoveling a hole large and deep enough is hard work."

"I have several questions."

"So do I. It's good we got this out before the wedding."

They stared at Thulsa's still body. Shards of bone littered the dirt and Tony just—holy shit he shot a zombie? He'd had LSD trips less fucked up. Stephen bent down and picked up the scythe.

"Wait a moment, this…" He hefted it and with a flick of a wrist it collapsed into a far more portable form. The shape had become rectangular and the blade was mostly hidden. The wood gleamed with runes as black as pitch. "I know this. But from where?"

"You're stealing his shit?"

"He tried to kill me."

"Fair enough, a little desecration never hurt anyone." Tony whipped out his phone, thankfully unbroken, and began composing a text message. 

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Rhodey to take Sofia out for dinner and ice cream. I need a hot bath, some painkillers, and vigorous, life-affirming sex. Doesn't have to be in that order."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "You're confident on that last one."

"Baby, you've seen nothing yet. And hold on, look, it's weird leaving a body like this are you sure we shouldn't cover him up?"

"I suppose so." Stephen made a circular motion with his right hand and the golden ring once more appeared beneath Thulsa's body and his car. They vanished from view with another gesture.

"Going to pretend you didn't just casually manipulate space-time and ask if you got any other tricks?"

"I'm not going to use my magic so we can have kinky sex."

"You say that now. Let's head back before I have my freak out."

"Tony?" Stephen grasped his hand. Unlike his own, the other's hand was slender and not nearly as roughened and scarred. "Thank you."

"For what? I mean, I didn't think I'd be shooting people so soon into our relationship-"

"For trusting me, Tony. To have your trust means so much to me. This is something big and I didn't tell you until I had to. I want to tell you everything, but I can't."

Tony ran his thumb across the back of Stephen's hand. "You can't?"

"For several reasons: it's not mine to tell, I am forbidden to tell, or I simply don't remember. But my dearest wish is to share my deepest parts with you. That won't change."

Tony swallowed to ease the sudden scratchiness in his throat. "Yeah, I get it. And, hey, I'll try, too. I'm actually surprised at how not closed off I'm being. So, in honor of that, I have something to tell you."

"Anything, what is it?"

"Fi got into my alcohol stash so I had to pour it down the drain."

"…I'm sorry, what?"

The ding of an incoming message from his phone made him pause. He was at the not-so-fun portion of development where JARVIS worked on compiling the data and he was left to twiddle his thumbs in the meantime. Jericho was finished three months earlier than projected. A part of him was…not sad, but at a loss. Tony had none of the thrill or pride that came with the end of a project. None of the rush.

He picked up the phone and opened the app. Stephen. It had been days since Thulsa and he'd gone back to New York, but, knock on wood, they seemed to be stronger than ever. 

"I seem to be popular on YouTube. You should watch—The Daily Bugle feature," he read. Tony blinked in confusion. "Okay…well, pull up YouTube, J. The Daily Bugle."

"Yes, Sir." The most recent video on The Daily Bugle's channel was, indeed, part of their popular On the Streets series. And it had far more views than the others. The thumbnail was of Stephen talking to a young woman with white-blonde hair, but that told him all of nothing.

"Play it." He leaned back in his chair and watched as—he honestly didn't care about her name—and the person holding the camera all but dashed to the nearby crosswalk. Tony was positive that wasn't necessary considering Stephen wasn't moving due to the red light, but whatever it was probably for drama. He tuned out her breathless greeting in favor of objectifying his fiancé. He looked good in red.

Tony tuned back in when it seemed Stephen was going to play along this time. He didn't smile but he wasn't glaring at her either.

"-are a hard man to pin down, Mister-"

"Doctor."

"Dr. Strange."

"That would be because I'm usually busy."

"Um, right, yes! So let's get into it. You've certainly surprised a lot of people these past few weeks with the confirmation of a long-term relationship with Tony Stark," she said into her microphone.

"Mm. Yes. I noticed. I especially enjoyed it when your ilk kept calling my job and disrupting my schedule. Fortunately, I'm only a neurosurgeon, so I couldn't possibly be doing anything important."

Tony snickered and made another note to contact PR. As funny as it would be they didn't need Stephen losing his temper.

"Oh, The Daily Bugle would never-"

"Is there anything else?" He interrupted. Tony amended the earlier mental note to contact PR the moment the video finished. And maybe a text to Stephen to gently remind him to save his eviscerations for the operating theater.

To her credit she continued, "I thought it would be interesting if we could ask you some fun questions about Tony Stark. Obviously it would be best if he were here but we'd be happy to do a follow-up when he's available."

Stephen's lips twitched. "Relationship questions? Favorite food and the like? That's hardly a challenge considering the subject."

"Normally, but these, although public record, were taken from dinners, talks, and presentations where the focus was academic or business related. Not something that would pop up on a Top 5."

"…Now that is potentially amusing. It's about time someone made an effort, Miss-?"

"Hardy, Dr. Strange. Felicia Hardy, junior correspondent and social media expert. You in?"

"I'm in."

Tony found himself grinning and settling in. That was a bit more interesting than the usual. Even more so as he was drunk and/or high at a lot of those conferences.

He really should consider a therapist.

"We'll start easy. In 1995, Tony Stark gave a talk at his alma mater, M.I.T., regarding the Corona Effect in systems and mitigating power loss."

"Did I do that?" Tony asked. '95 was a crazy year.

"Indeed you have, Sir," Jarvis answered.

"Holy shit. I'm a genius."

Miss Hardy went on to say, "It was very boring but he did allude to not his favorite book, but his most disliked one. What is it?"

"The Silmarillion," Stephen said. "He hates Tolkien."

"Ooh, not bad. That's the correct answer. Next! Business symposium, 2002. Something something trade deal, but he mentions the region where his mother was born and raised. I'll give a hint: Carbonell."

"Huh." Stephen paused and looked thoughtful. "She's…Catalan."

"Correct! Many assume Italy, but she is actually from Catalonia, a sovereign state in Spain."

"He speaks Catalan occasionally and I'm not saying anything more than that." 

"Of course." She winked. "Follow up question: his mother's signature dish is?"

Stephen, who had softened greatly as this point, actually smiled a bit. "Mongetes amb botifarra."

"1999, 2000; New Year's in Bern, Switzerland. While discussing integrated circuits he spent a bit of time talking about his first circuit board. How old was he?"

"He was four."

"Can you name any specifics?"

"It was a motherboard. He wanted to build a friend because he was bored. The idea eventually became Jarvis." Tony smiled. Yeah, he remembered that.

"Wow, you know your stuff."

"I should hope so, as he'll be seeing this later. And I expect he will do equally well when it comes to me." A warning look to the camera. Tony shuddered and decided to call Christine ASAP.

The questions proceeded along the same vein and it was a good thing Tony was alone as he undoubtedly looked ridiculous because his heart was about to burst. Stephen only missed two and those were the ones Tony couldn't quite answer himself (both from 95).

"Thank you for answering our questions, Doctor."

"You caught me at a good time, Miss Hardy. You have far better luck than your coworkers." Tony knew Stephen well enough to hear the slight change in his tone. The young woman's expression faltered just slightly, but it shifted to her bland, reporter smile. 

"Of course; but you know, I can't let you go that easy."

"I thought not."

"Now, Tony Stark has lead quite the colorful life."

"I'm aware."

"So we are all curious about your thoughts on a certain tape? You have seen it, right?"

Tony sputtered. Shit. But Stephen didn't sound mad?

Stephen shrugged. "Eventually. Out of curiosity." Oh. That was good. He looked bored—actually should Tony be offended about that? "It was…hm." Yes; yes, he should.

"J, I'm strangely upset about his nonchalance over my sex tape," Tony said.

"I am sorry to hear that," Jarvis replied.

Hardy laughed, "Oh no, what does that mean?"

"Nothing too bad. I may be biased but Tony was fine."

"Fine? I'm exceptional!" Tony protested.

"Indeed, Sir."

"Don't patronize me, Jarvis."

"It was other factors," continued Stephen. "Even taking into account the available technology, the video quality was poor, the lighting boring, and the young lady who no doubt engineered the entire thing kept glancing at the camera."

"What makes you think it was her idea?"

"Do you honestly believe Tony Stark couldn't afford a decent set up and wouldn't put himself in the best possible lighting to show off?"

Tony was so in love. "You see that? Baby girl gets me. Remind me to buy him something expensive."

"Noted, Sir," came the obedient response.

"That's a good point," Hardy admitted.

Stephen shrugged. "To be frank, she was trying far too hard to be sexy. Understandable mistake. I hope whatever career she was going for worked out despite all evidence to the contrary."

"Um. Wow," Hardy laughed.

"Merely stating facts. I give it a 5 out of 10." Stephen's eyes flickered to the camera and he smirked. "I'll do better." The video ended.

Tony blinked once. Twice. Then his brain parsed the meaning behind the statement. With wide eyes and a choked gasp, Tony dove for his phone and scrambled to press Stephen's number.

Stephen picked up after the second ring. "Did you watch? I look good on camera, don't you think?"

"Don't you toy with my emotions like this."

"I would never. But I was thinking that it has been a while and you've been remarkable. I'm most appreciative."

"Stephen-"

"Christine took Sofia for a girl's day out and sleepover; I do wonder how I'll spend my time."

"Need a little help? I've got a few ideas."

"There's nothing little about the help I want, Daddy."

The phone in his hand actually creaked from his sudden, harsh grip. He idly brought up his schedule and proceeded to move everything further down the week. Satisfied it was where he wanted it, he brought the cell phone back to his ear.

"If I don't see a portal to my lab within the next three seconds I am going to-" The golden ring of light and particles formed a mere three feet from where he sat. Stephen was lounging on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of lacy underwear (red he was truly blessed) and a smirk. Tony slowly, carefully, hung up the phone. "J, tell Pepper I died and that I'll call her later."

"Sir, that seems drastic-"

Tony was already through the portal and ripping off his shirt.

Chapter Text

Meeting Tony's friends had been wonderful.

Meeting Tony's godfather, on the other hand? The man was fucking creepy.

Stephen had long learned to listen to his gut and right now it was telling him that something was wrong. Yet Stephen had no idea why, honestly. The man was cold towards him, but Tony was his godson whose net worth was larger than some countries' GDP. If Stane cared even the slightest bit about Tony he'd be keeping an eye on anyone new. Stephen could be a cold bastard himself so he had no real reason to feel...off.

It was possible Stephen was being unfair—and he was often unfair. He recalled that Stane had gone missing but the news cycle buried the story within that week. It was around the time Tony Stark had outed himself as Iron Man. The timing was interesting. It was possibly nothing.

He supposed he was lucky to avoid Stane as long as he had. Now that he was sitting across from the man he didn't feel fortunate. Rhodey and Pepper looked just as uncomfortable—easily clocking Stephen's distaste for the entire situation.

"So where did you meet again?" Stane smiled from across the table but Stephen had seen nicer smiles from sharks on the Discovery Channel.

"We met at that gala a few months ago in January. I told you about it," Tony said. Tony, for his part, was sagging in his chair as if he had checked out of the conversation already. Stephen chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched. He didn't tell Stephen much about his board meetings; yet, Stephen could guess.

The business world was heavily conservative and some of the countries Stark Industries dealt with were even more so. Tony mentioned something about a 'rancid cesspool' and said little else about it. Certain "eccentricities" could be ignored as Tony looked the part and was seen with women more often than not. That all changed when Tony had all but shouted his non-conformity from the rooftops and didn't have the decency to hide it, either.

"Oh right, right." Stane said. "And a neurosurgeon? You're a little young, aren't you?"

Stephen's eyes narrowed. It was only Tony's concerned glance that kept him civil. "I'm hardly Doogie Howser, Mr. Stane."

"I'm simply impressed, Stephen. A young man from a small town in Nebraska making his way in the world."

A threat—subtle, but still a threat. But Stephen had faced far worse than Stane. He dabbed his napkin across his lips. "I'm a real American dream."

"Yes, yes. Indeed. Gotta admire the drive it takes."

"I am admirable," Stephen drawled. Rhodey cleared his throat, hiding a snicker. Pepper must have gotten him under the table with her intimidating heels as he jumped soon after.

"It reminds me of when Howard and I were younger. Long hours building up Stark Industries. It was a real joy handing it off to Tony here—he just snatched it up and ran with it." A large hand slapped Tony on the shoulder and shook him with a playful air. Tony grimaced at the reminder.

"Quite."

"And when you spend so much time and effort on something, you want to see it prosper, you know?"

"All too well, Mr. Stane." Stephen murmured. Both Pepper and Rhodey looked to be inordinately focused on their meals. Their dread would be amusing if he wasn't stuck in the middle of this bullshit.

"Now I'm a little old-fashioned, I admit. No, no, not about the whole same-sex thing. Not my preference, but whatever. I'm merely...concerned about how fast your relationship is moving."

"Obie." Tony finally seemed to come back to himself, straightening at the implication.

"Let the man have his say, dear," Stephen said. Tony no doubt heard the chill in voice if his wince was any indication.

"I mean no offense."

"I typically do, but continue."

Stane's amiable uncle act fell; enough for Stephen to see the hard glint in his gaze. Stephen may not know who Obadiah Stane was, but he now knew for certain he was dangerous. How? That he had yet to ascertain. "A straight-shooter. I can respect that. Let's have it out in the open. I don't trust you nor your intentions."

Stephen set his glass down with a hard thud. "It's a good thing I'm not fucking you, then-"

"Whoa, okay, let's take a step back." Tony interrupted with an uneasy laugh. Stephen bit back his next comment, but apparently Stane wasn't so respectful.

Stane sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tony, but I'm just looking out for your best interests. You're a passionate guy and there have been some incidents, agreed? You know you tend to get a little excitable and jump ahead." Tony twitched and Stephen had never felt such an acute urge to drop someone in another dimension. Stane went missing before; it wouldn't be a huge loss.

"I don't know if I should feel insulted for myself, insulted for Tony, or amused that I give off the impression that I am capable of seducing a billionaire into securing a marriage certificate by November and having his brake lines cut by January," Stephen began.

"That's specific," Pepper remarked to Rhodey.

"Worryingly so," Rhodey agreed.

"But I'm not going to sit here and let you insinuate that Tony is a child that needs minding. He's 38 years old. He's the smartest person at this table by far. Any 'incidents' that occurred are an indictment of those awful people, not Tony having the audacity to take them at their word."

Stane considered him. Stephen's instincts were screaming. "Huh. Well. I'm not going to apologize for looking after my godson."

"I don't recall asking for an apology. If that's the message you got then that's your issue."

They glared at each other. Tony's eyes were snapping between them so fast he was surprised they hadn't popped out of his skull. He cleared his throat and stood.

"We need to talk." Tony didn't wait for an answer as he grasped Stephen lightly by the elbow and dragged him towards the hallway that led to the restrooms. The restaurant was high-end and well chosen—Stephen was much less likely to throw something at Stane's face. "All right, that could have gone a lot better."

"No, what was there to be angry about? Somewhere between the insinuations that I was a gold digging whore I did feel the beginnings of a connection," said Stephen.

"...You are kind of a slut, though," Tony said, grinning.

Stephen winked. "You would know."

"But. Look. He's been with me since Day 1—literally, he was at the hospital. And he was there when Howard wasn't." Tony then shook his head as if physically suppressing his feelings. Stephen understood—all too well. "I'll always be that little kid to him, I guess. He's not a bad man."

Stephen had no evidence either way but he wasn't going to change Tony's mind based on a feeling. Not when Tony loved the bastard; Stephen didn't have the heart to break that. "Fine. As long as you remember-"

"Stephen Strange settles for nothing less than the best." Tony finished, gaze warm.

"This is awkward. I was going to threaten your brake lines again."

"You are a menace. But in light of everything how about we change tonight's plans and push back that engagement announcement? We can tell Pepper and Rhodey later."

"Agreed. But you didn't tell me it was that bad."

"I can handle it. He's probably short-tempered because he's the one who has to do the heavy lifting with the board and our business partners."

"…Will it be a problem?"

"To be frank, it would be if I weren't me. But I am me and I'm making them a stupid amount of money. The military's uncomfortable, but, again, I'm making them weapons years ahead of the competition and they don't want to fuck that up. No one's going to pressure me into doing shit. You have nothing to worry about."

Stephen eyed him for a long moment then smiled. "You're attractive when you're taking charge. Keep that up and there'll be something special for you in the near future."

"Untampered brake lines?"

"Your intelligence is also pleasing."

They returned to the table in much better spirits. It was as they left it, sans one overbearing godfather.

"Where'd Obie go?" Tony asked.

"Hope it's Hell," Stephen muttered. Pepper sputtered on her champagne.

"Hm?" Tony looked up from pouring the wine.

"I said, 'probably home.'" Stephen ignored Pepper's disbelief with the ease of long practice in ignoring the reactions of other people.

"He got a call. You were taking so long he couldn't wait. We were wondering what was keeping you two," answered Rhodey.

"I was talking Steph down," protested Tony. "The man's a surgeon and handy with a bone saw."

"Tony, please." Stephen looked Rhodey dead in the eye and said, "We were making out. I had to get my nefarious plan back on track somehow."

"...I am really regretting the day Tones met you." Rhodey shoved a hunk of chocolate into his mouth. Stephen smiled and turned to Pepper.

"Do you want to split the shortcake? I probably won't finish it."

"No thank you, Stephen. I'm allergic to strawberries." She smiled at him.

"Oh, apologies." Stephen poked Tony in the side. "Why didn't you tell me she was allergic?"

Tony's face was a study of growing alarm. "Shit you're allergic?"

Pepper rolled her eyes and took a small bite of her strawberry-less cake. "How many dinners have we had to attend?"

"Wow. I feel as if this changes everything."

"It really doesn't."

"Like discovering the sky is no longer blue."

"You are making this far weirder than it needs to be."

"Pep, that's like my super power. Right up there with money."

Stephen nodded. "The best one, frankly." Tony blew him a kiss.

Christine knocked on the frame of his door. She smiled when he looked up at her from the stack of files on his desk, but it didn't reach her eyes. Stephen's heart rate picked up as he sat up ramrod straight.

"Christine, what is it?"

"I'll cut straight to the chase. We had a patient come in the ER last night with severe wounding to the neck. She refused to call the police before she went non-responsive. I suspected abuse but honestly it was like they were mauled."

Stephen frowned and said, "A mauling? I know the rats here are borderline abominations against nature but this is a bit much."

"Are you still complaining about the rats? It's been years."

"I've shot coons smaller than those things."

"Sometimes I forget how country you are. Anyway, the patient's core vital signs are…"

"Don't you dare say it-"

"Strange."

"…I will fight you out back."

"I'll meet you there. But before that walk with me. You should see this."

Stephen followed her down the elevator and through the halls towards the ICU. He checked his phone. There were a few new messages from Sofia's new tutor. Zoe Laveau had proven to be a fantastic fit. Stephen had his suspicions about why she had traveled all the way up from Louisiana, but considering his own story he gave her a chance. The truth always came out. Satisfied that all was well at home, he powered down his phone and turned his attention to the patient on the bed.

She was young, perhaps late teens from what he could surmise, and around Christine's height and build. He noted the light bruising on her face and the thick bandaging around her neck. Her light brown hair had been roughly shorn—near bald in some places, thick curls in others. No wonder Christine suspected abuse. Stephen checked the machines and cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

"In my professional opinion she seems to be quite dead," he said, motioning to the multiple flatlines. Christine pursed her lips.

"Keep. Checking."

"Fine, fine." She wouldn't have bothered him if there wasn't something going on. He took the small penlight from his breast pocket and leaned over to carefully lift an eyelid. Gallows humor was the only thing they had some days—he jerked back when the iris dilated under the bright light. "She still has brain activity."

"Yup."

"Why does she have-?" He checked the machines again. "No pulse, no respiratory rate…EEG?"

"Normal."

"No signs of encephalopathy?"

"None."

"And she's been like this-"

"Since early this morning, late last night. Stephen, I don't know what to do! She's like a-"

"Living corpse." Stephen finally noticed that Christine had placed her in a semi-isolated bed towards the back.

"I know I shouldn't have, but something isn't right. I wasn't even supposed to keep her hooked up this long! But I know I'm not seeing things. I was hoping you'd give me some insight so I waited until you came in."

"You're brilliant; you did great. Did you request any blood samples?"

"Not yet. I wasn't sure what to test nor how I was going to explain it."

"Oh, good. That saves me from having to hunt them down and destroy them." Stephen closed the curtain and rushed back to the bed.

"What? Stephen, what's happening?"

"I am asking a lot of you, but I need you to stay calm." He snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up his penlight again. This time, he lifted her top lip. Normal. But then he pressed a spot on her gums, above the canine, and a secondary fang slowly extended. Christine stumbled back. She pressed her hands to her mouth to muffle her screaming.

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. This hadn't happened—but then, he'd never been actively involved in ER cases before. Christine had tried but had given up just as his as career took off. The hospital was quick to make use of his skills rather than "waste" them on people who couldn't be guaranteed to pay. Now that he had taken to volunteering when he could, she had come to him. And so, too, came the realization that the supernatural had always been right under his nose.

"This is bad. We need to get her out of here." His sling ring was in his desk (he couldn't exactly perform surgery with it on), so it would be easy to teleport her. The Sanctum would do for—no, wait. It was warded against beings of darkness. Not even Sofia, with his blood, could enter without permission. Drumm could be convinced, but- "I'll try waking her up. This will be easier if she can walk out and we'll fudge the records."

"Oh my God, oh my God-" Christine whispered.

"Christine, stay with me. Deep breaths." She nodded and worked to slow her breathing. "That's it, beautiful. Think of her as someone who needs help."

"R-Right. So how do you know about…whatever this is?"

"I'll answer you later, but for right now, don't scream. I'm going to wake her." Stephen raised a hand and the soft glow of magic began emanating from his fingertips. Christine gasped but he stayed focused. He reached out to her consciousness and gave her a nudge. Her eyes snapped open and she jumped. Even then her vitals gave no indication of her being alive.

"W-Where?" She whispered.

Stephen placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "My name is Dr. Stephen Strange and you are at Metro-General in New Y-"

"No! No! He can see! He'll come!" She yanked herself free and stumbled to her feet. She snapped her eyes closed and went so far as to cover them with her hands.

"Who will come?"

"The one who made me—he can see through the eyes of his children. I'm so sorry. I was trying to run away but then this man attacked me and-"

"Hey, it's okay," Christine tried. She wrapped an arm around the young woman's shoulders.

"No, it's not. He's coming," she sobbed.

"We'll protect you. You'll be just fine. Can I get a name?"

"J-Jacqueline."

"Oh, that's lovely."

She didn't appear to be dangerous but Stephen did not feel comfortable leaving Christine without protection. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. We need to head to my office. From there I can take her to a place that's warded and should provide more than enough protection." To Christine's credit she only nodded and guided Jacqueline to the entrance.

Stephen hurriedly powered up his phone and located Drumm's number. This would be easier if they didn't surprise the man. A hint of danger slid across his senses. Stephen stopped, sudden. Christine and Jacqueline nearly ran into his back.

"Stephen?" Christine asked. Stephen scanned the hallway. The waiting area. The elevators. Where was it. Where-

He looked to the left and his gaze settled on a man charming one of the nurses at her station. His black leather trench coat created a sharp contrast to the white and pastel blue surroundings. Everything about him was sharp—from his tightly styled hair to his smile to the cut of his clothing. The man must have felt him watching as he turned soon after and nodded in Stephen's direction.

Stephen calculated their chances of slipping by. Low—ICU was a dead end.

"Is this the man who's after you?" Stephen asked, voice soft.

Jacqueline said, "He's not my sire but he tried to-"

"It's not often I'm given the slip," the man's white teeth gleaned against dark skin. "I'm gonna need you to step away. You don't know what she is."

"I know exactly what she is. Just as I know you're not that much different," Stephen snapped. The man inclined his head, giving him that.

"Funny, considering you're a walking power station. But, fine. If you know, then you should have no problem with my request."

"No."

"I've already lost a lot of time and the sun's going down."

Christine pushed forward, jaw set. "Leave before we call security. You've done enough!"

"…You think I was the one who hurt her? Oh, you're gonna wish it was me." The light's flickered; they went dark for several long seconds before struggling to come back to life. The nurses and remaining visitors murmured uneasily. "She was the bait."

"Damn," Stephen breathed. The evil he felt was not on the same level as Kulan Gath's—but it was oily and tasted like copper. Jacqueline hid her face.

"It's him. I'm so sorry," she whimpered. 

Stephen barely managed to push down his panic. This wasn't the same as the department store during off hours. Metro-General was in the heart of Manhattan and he couldn't move its patients. He was only one person—he couldn't cover everything. If this man in the trench coat helped, that would still be woefully insufficient.

He was also limited to the spells he could use in tight, populated quarters.

"He'll have a group of his sycophants with him. And they will have no problem taking hostages and feeding off the vulnerable," the man continued.

"Then we do something," Stephen said.

"I'm assuming you got a plan for that?"

"I have a love-hate relationship with plans." Stephen marched up to the nurse's station. "You three, this is an emergency-"

The lights flickered once more and finally went off. The murmuring became louder and more panic tinged.

"By the way, the big boss is very good at magic." He jerked his head toward the windows where a dark fog had fallen. That was when the shouting and panic began. Those capable raced to the windows to stare in horror.

"So am I." Stephen peered at the stranger. "Can I get a name?"

"You could."

"Are you going to answer or continue to be a sarcastic asshole?"

"Now why do that when I'm clearly in good company?" Finally, he relented. "Call me Blade."

Stephen paused. He glanced at Christine who shrugged helplessly. "I'm…sorry, did you just say Blade? How old were you when you came up with that?"

"That's quite an attitude considering yours is Doctor Strange." Blade looked pointedly at Stephen's name tag.

"If you two are done??" Snapped Christine.

"Doctor, what's happening?? The phones are-" The nurse gasped and dropped the handset as her skin turned blue-grey. She wasn't the only one. The remaining staff and visitors slowly froze—their faces twisted in horror and their eyes turning black. Stephen stared before whipping around and casting a spell just as the curse began to crawl up Christine's extremities. She stumbled when she freed. 

"What's going on?" She cried.

"Dark magic. And well anchored. This will be irritating." He was interrupted by the elevators dinging open. The man stepping out of it looked as if he belonged to the landed British aristocracy. He was flanked by a skinhead and a punk in jarring juxtaposition.

"That is cartoonishly evil," Stephen muttered, causing his new companion to grunt in agreement.

The man smiled. "I've come to take you home, niece."

"Is he really your uncle?" Stephen asked Jacqueline, not taking his eyes off the threat. He and Blade had turned to face the two intruders by unspoken agreement.

"Y-Yes. Lord John Falsworth. He was the one who bit me decades ago. I didn't turn completely, but he's kept me imprisoned for years. He and Father didn't get on."

"I thought my family was fucked up."

"Same," Blade added.

"He calls himself Baron Blood," finished Jacqueline. Stephen blinked. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.

"What kind of Dungeons and Dragons bullshit is going on here?" Stephen exclaimed. "First 'Blade' and now 'Baron Blood'?"

"Still throwing stones from that glass house of yours," Blade drawled.

"Enough. Let's play a game, shall we? You have half an hour until this little curse of mine starts to have some…less than desirable side effects. Hand over my darling niece and we will leave peacefully." Baron Blood gestured around him. "You are trapped here. My mists have cut off all forms of communication; indeed, I suppose you could say we have been transported into our own little world. It need not end with mass death."

"Or," Stephen snarled. "You can get the fuck out of my hospital."

The Baron smiled. "Amusing. And if I do not? You'll kill me?"

"I will see you stripped of your power and imprisoned. But you have done me a favor."

"How is any of this a good thing??" Christine cried.

"It means I can do what I need to do without worrying about attracting attention. It means I have more than enough time to deal with this nonsense. A spell like this one requires an anchor—otherwise it cannot be tethered to the desired location. There are two options: an anchor within the caster or within an external object, usually multiple. Baron Blood doesn't seem to be the type to risk himself with that duty, which means he put his anchors somewhere else. Perhaps, in someone else?" Stephen smiled at the Baron's blank stare. "Don't be so shocked. I'm better than you."

"…It means little. You will not get to my children in time and they will not be easy to kill."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. This just so happens to be my specialty," Blade said.

"I have heard of you, Daywalker." Stephen had no idea what that meant but judging from the nervous expressions of the lackeys behind Blood it must have been important. "But even you cannot do it all in such a short amount of time."

Blade grunted and tilted his head towards Stephen. "You seem like you know some things. Need a refresher on the best ways to kill blood suckers?"

"I don't kill," Stephen said, clenching his hands into fists. Blade let out a sharp bark of laughter.

"Oh, you won't have much of a choice, here. They may look human enough but their souls are long gone; think of it as a mercy."

"Let him suffer from his delusions. The good Doctor will be happy to know that he was correct-" Blood began.

"Always am," Stephen muttered.

"-in that I have anchored the spell in a few of my children. Not all, mind. He must also be well aware there is no severing the anchor without killing them. Not that you'll have an easy time of doing that. It matters little to me." Baron Blood's form grew translucent and he sank into the ground. The skinhead and punk left behind positioned themselves before the elevator.

Sever.

Stephen loosened his tie and slipped it off his neck. It was a long shot, but, maybe. With a light toss the tie transformed into the Cloak of Levitation. Christine and Jacqueline jumped while Blade's only reaction was a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Cloak. Please look after Christine and Jacqueline for me," Stephen kept his eyes on the vampires but did see the Cloak bow deeply and with a flourish in his peripheral.

"You owe me several explanations, Stephen Strange," Christine said as she allowed herself to be herded back.

"And you will have them." Stephen lifted a hand and a barrier of gold-orange stretched across the hallway behind them. "No one's getting in, so you should be okay. I'll be back in half an hour."

Stephen released another breath and reached into the ether. He had spent several days doing his best to purify the scythe. Stephen couldn't answer why he had felt drawn to it. The blood had seeped deep and even with his constantly feeding it his magic it felt broken. Yet, he had to try. Something inside him ached to make it clean and whole. Now was his chance. If his hypothesis was correct, he could show it a better way—a way where it harvested more than lives.

The scythe perked up in awareness as it sensed a coming battle. It trembled in his grip and whispered promises. He was not surprised that Thulsa had taken it for his own purposes. Stephen released it from its compact form and let his white coat and scrubs melt and shift into his black suit. A part of him relaxed as the armor encased him. It provided some physical protection but it was strong in magics.

"Not bad," Blade said. "I was doubting you before, but looks like you won't be getting in my way after all." He reached back and grasped something underneath the collar of his coat. Stephen faltered when he drew a straight sword from the sheath hidden along his back. Even in the darkness its edge gleamed with preternatural sharpness.

"How the hell did you get that in here?" Stephen asked.

Blade jabbed a finger at Stephen's more extravagant weapon. "Seriously? At this point I'm pretty sure you're fucking with me."

"Oh I'll never tell. The one on the right is yours."

Realizing they would have to face Blade no matter what, the vampires lunged forward. The skinhead proved to be inelegant with his bulk, but his supernatural speed made up for it. He bared his fangs in glee at his presumed luck. Stephen dodged the first blow and pushed magic into his arms so he could block the next without them being shattered. With a quick spin the butt of his weapon connected with the vampire's jaw with a loud crack.

Golden chains erupted from the floor and dragged the vampire to the floor. Stephen placed a boot on the man's chest and lifted the scythe. It sang in anticipation. Sever. Stephen opened his third eye wide. He saw the tether of dark magic wrapped around the vampire's neck and connect through the windows to the mist outside. The heart no longer beat, but the enzymes that formed the disease had turned his blood into green ichor. It entwined his organs like ivy vine—like a cancer.

Blade was correct. The man's soul had long exited his physical body, but that did not mean it was beyond him. Souls left imprints in the beings and containers they resided in. The enzyme tricked it into leaving with a false death, but that link remained—wrapped in ichor and a supernatural force, but it remained.

Stephen brought the scythe down. It sliced through the tether, first; the blade went through the vampire's neck but didn't so much as nick the skin. The next swing was through the heart where the source of the enzyme resided. The blade cleaved the giant pustule in two. The vampire screamed and jerked violently. His body erupted in seizures before going still. He sobbed.

Stephen sighed and hefted the scythe onto his shoulder. Confusion. He confused it.

"You're slow, and your form needs work." Blade was standing at parade rest. His foe's head lay by his feet. "But what you just did-"

"His soul will return."

Blade considered him. "So it's not a real cure. He's still a dead man."

"He now has his soul; and he now has time. Turned vampires have died already—I can't do anything about that. That is not my area. But I can give them time as it returns to where it belongs."

"He's a fucking skinhead. Do you really think he'll thank you for returning his soul just in time for him to be judged?"

"We will all be judged one day. And he is lucky. As he was soulless the crimes he committed after resurrection won't count." Stephen nodded at the corpse at his feet. "That's disgusting, by the way."

"You have a literal eye in your forehead."

"Hm." Stephen snapped his fingers and fire consumed the head and body, not even leaving the blood behind. "We have a problem—several of them. Metro-General is a research hospital with multiple buildings in the complex. The tallest tower alone has 18 floors. There are 862 beds and thousands of employees, even at night."

"And we are down to twenty-three minutes. We need to get to Blood. He's the top dog. The rest will drop like flies once he's taken out. I've been tracking him for months—I got a good idea where he'd be."

"Agreed. But we can't let the patients suffer." He waved his arm and summoned his magic. His form split many times from the power of Ikonn. Blade whistled and watched the clones phase through the ceiling and walls and floor. "I will hunt the rest."

"You definitely need the practice."

"I don't hear those words often."

Blades lips twitched in an aborted smile. "What sort of doctor are you?"

"The best kind." Stephen gestured towards the stairs. "I know this hospital just as well as my own home. Where do we need to go?"

"Heh. Where else? We go the morgue."

"So you grew up in London?"

Blade shrugged as he shoved the doors open. "Lost the accent since I moved Stateside, but I spent the first part of my life on the streets before my mentor took me in. Taught me everything I know. I've been searching for my mother's killer since the 40s. You?"

"Mm, I just found out I'm some sort of reincarnated, millennia year old being who committed a crime so sinful and catastrophic that even a child of Set was shocked I came back. And I'm related to the Elder spawn, apparently."

"Hey man, no judgment here. I'm curious, though. What's it like being an eldritch abomination?"

"Oh, I haven't noticed anything too different. My magic has grown by leaps and bounds, obviously. I put my pants on one leg at a time like every other bipedal, sentient being."

"Of course."

"There are times, even though I'm mortal, that I feel a gaping hole within me that I fear will consume my soul and I will be lost to the void that is beyond all reckoning."

Silence. Then Blade said, "Huh. Sounds rough."

"It is what it is. Ah, here we are."

"And with…ten minutes to spare."

"We would have been here sooner if you didn't insist on murdering every last vampire that threw themselves at us."

"Hey, you have your job, I have mine."

"Hm."

The chill of the morgue bit at his face but Stephen pushed it aside to focus on Baron Blood running his gloved fingers down the still, cold face of a young woman.

"Death. A force no one nor no thing can escape. Even for the likes of us." Baron Blood nodded. "I know the Daywalker, of course, but you interest me as well, Doctor. Surely you can understand why I do what I do? All I wish is for my people to walk in the sun—to feel the warmth on our skin."

"And what does Jacqueline have to do with that?" Stephen asked.

"She's not like the others. Even though I bit her with the intention of turning her, she was not wholly affected. She developed our strengths but not all of our weaknesses."

Blade scoffed. "Let me guess: going out during daylight and her lack of blood thirst. I noticed she seemed to be very controlled for a vamp that had been injured."

"It was curious. Something within her is the key to what I need."

"But then she got tired of being her dirty uncle's science experiment and flew the coop."

"I was so hopeful she would realize the importance of my mission." The metal doors around the morgue began to rattle. "I underestimated you. I can feel the connection to my children being severed with each passing moment—it's heartbreaking. So I hope you don't mind if I…made some additions. I'm a family man, after all." The young woman under his fingertips sat up with a gasp and a scream.

"Ghouls. I hate ghouls." Blade raised his sword.

"Focus on Blood, I'll handle them!" Stephen collapsed his weapon and dispersed it into particles once more. "I refuse to deal with the fallout of beheaded corpses littering the morgue."

"You're no fun, Doc." But the Dhampir smoothly dodged the grasping hands of the reanimated dead and sped towards Blood.

The thing about battles, Stephen had learned, was how messy they were. And it became utter chaos when a score of mindless ghouls joined the fray. He had to ensure he didn't cause obvious damage to the bodies, to the morgue, and he definitely couldn't risk destroying another building. Stephen summoned mandalas and worked to restrain them while being attacked from all sides.

"Watch your form!"

"Mind your business!"

Blood was several levels above his unfortunate spawn, as even Blade struggled to gain the upper hand. Their swords clashed with furious sparks, moving just faster than he could follow with his eyes.

Then it happened in an instant. A ghoul had been knocked into Blade's path, forcing Blade to switch from a cut to smashing the offending servant with his sword pummel before it could take a bite out of his neck. That distraction was just enough for Blood to slip past his defenses and send the dhampir flying into a wall. It cracked from the impact.

Stephen cursed and lifted a hand to construct a shield around him when Blood shrieked. Something exploded out of his chest—a pole of some kind. Jacqueline stood behind him, holding what was left of a broom handle. Her dark eyes were flinty.

"Just die!" She hissed, baring her fangs. Blood's pale skin sunk and sallowed further. With a roar he dissolved into mist and flew through the vents. The ghouls groaned and slumped to the ground as one, dead once more.

"Okay," Blade grunted as he stood. "That works, too. How'd you get out?"

"The barrier prevents those with evil intent from passing through, but those of pure heart can move freely. I didn't want to use something that could end up trapping them with nowhere to go," Stephen explained. And it gave Christine a chance to escape should Jacqueline not prove trustworthy. The secondary ward he'd quietly cast would have seen to that. Jacqueline slowly lowered her makeshift stake; her lips trembled.

"I had to come. I had to try to kill him," she said.

"Hey, no complaints from me. You got every right to take revenge for yourself." Blade dusted off his coat and cracked his neck as if he hadn't taken a hit that could kill or cripple a normal human.

"Jacqueline, where's Christine?" Stephen asked.

"She's fine, I promise! I convinced her to stay put. And, please, call me Jackie."

"Of course." Stephen cursed when he felt the magics shift. "The curse is lifting, we don't have much time."

Blade quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Help me get these corpses back to where they belong!"

"Can't you just do your whole 'bibbidi bobbidi boo' shit?"

Stephen paused and stared down at the floor. Blade snickered and said, "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

Tony wiped the grease from his fingers, took a long swig of his soda, and then sighed like a man who had lost all hope. "Let me get this straight because I cannot believe my life right now. Vampires are real and you had to fight off a hoard of them when they invaded Metro-General."

"Yeah," Stephen confirmed.

"And Buffy here-" Blade's eye twitched. "-due to a truly bizarre sequence of events was born with all of the benefits and practically none of the drawbacks to vampirism. Which means he, of course, has to hunt them."

"Sounds unhinged when you put it like that," Blade drawled and drained the rest of his beer.

"Jackie is the daughter of a hero from both World Wars who had a falling out with his Nazi Vampire brother and was imprisoned for decades."

"Quite," she said, posture stiff. Stephen had told her Tony wouldn't have the heart to kick her out but it appeared she had yet to believe it.

"Christine is blessedly, blessedly normal. I hold so much platonic love for her right now."

"You're welcome," she sighed, nibbling on a slice of pizza.

"My little Sofia is perfect the way she is."

Sofia nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Stephen chuckled and wiped her mouth. She wore her food more than she ate it.

"And what about me, honey?" He asked.

Tony's eyes raked down his form. "There are minors present." Tony turned to Zoe, who jumped under the sudden scrutiny. "Alright, you're up. What's your deal?"

Zoe looked horrified before shaking her head. "N-Nothing up here! Totally normal. Absolutely 100%!" They all stared at her before Tony shrugged and grabbed another slice of pizza.

"You know what? It's cool. I'll pretend to believe you. Have another slice—you should eat more."

"Th-Thank you, Mr. Stark!"

"It's Tony, remember? I got, uh, certain hangups with Mr. Stark."

Stephen smirked and sipped his own soda. He was a wine drinker but he supported Tony's most recent attempt at sobriety. "That sounds troublesome, Mr. Stark—I mean, Anthony." Tony's glower promised retribution while Zoe looked down at her plate in despair.

"The things I've seen," she whispered while Jackie looked perturbed.

"So, what happens now?" Asked Christine. "I mean, everyone was so confused-"

"Pretend nothing happened and lie. Lie our asses off," Stephen said.

"Stephen! We can't do that! How can we-"

"If you want to tell our colleagues that the hospital was taken over by a deranged vampire and his minions and the reason no one remembers was due to a curse they nearly died from and a spell that affected space-time…well, you do have that option."

Christine groaned and buried her face in her hands. Cloak patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"She is so honest," Tony said to him. "It's refreshing."

"Staunchly moral—I don't know how she does it."

"We should learn something from her. Optimism. Ethics."

"Compassion."

"A can-do spirit."

"I can't stand either of you," Christine grumbled.

"What're you planning to do with Jackie, here?" Blade interrupted before he and Tony could rile the other up and. Well. "I'm assuming the Doctor had a plan when he did his portal thing and brought you here."

"If you're okay with it, Jackie, we were hoping you could stay with me until you get back on your feet," said Stephen. Jackie wrung her hands and blinked back tears.

"Are…are you certain?" She asked.

"Yup. Don't worry about the identity thing. I know people and we should have one for you soon. Considering your age and the fact that you were declared dead we can't return what you lost. But, if you don't mind being your own granddaughter it should be fine," Tony added.

"You won't regret it, I promise! It's my fault you nearly lost your lives—and so many people were endangered-"

"It wasn't your fault. You deserve a home and to feel safe, Jackie," Stephen said before she worked herself up.

"I'll have to get you a bigger place, Steph," Tony sighed, glancing around what had been a spacious bachelor pad.

"You're getting me a bigger place?" Stephen cleared his throat when Tony's eyes darkened. "Hm, I should make you work for it-"

"Minors are still present!" Zoe squeaked. "Me! I'm 19 but totally still a minor! Please control yourselves."

"Yeah, good luck with that. I'm out." Blade finished his lager with a sigh and stood. "Got an appointment I need to get to."

Tony stood as well. "Sad to see you go; I'll walk you out." Stephen's brow furrowed but Sofia all but smashing her face into his pizza distracted him.

"What's on your mind, Stark?" The man had already donned his sunglasses despite the lack of sun. "Since you insisted on 'seeing me out'."

"Maybe I'm being a good person and trying to protect your virtue," Tony said, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets.

Blade snorted but waited for him to gather his thoughts. Tony decided to go for it.

"I've been thinking a lot of things, lately. About Steph and the life he's leading. It's going to get worse, isn't it?"

"The thing about the supernatural is that it draws you in," Blade said after a moment of silence. "The moment you wade out a bit too far you get sucked into the undertow. The Doctor's so far deep he ain't ever gonna see the light of day again. Can you handle that, Stark?"

Tony grit his teeth and scowled at the man. "I'm handling it."

"Hope you are for both your sakes."

"Well, I got good news. I've been thinking of something and I want your input. Stephen may not appreciate it just yet." Tony rubbed his hands together and laid out his cards. "You probably noticed, but Steph can be a little…thoughtless in regards to his health."

"He did mention bringing a building down while he was in it."

"I think I lost a decade of my life with that stunt. I…all this is a lot and I'm not gonna pretend otherwise; Steph and Fi are mine so I'll deal. But what I can't stand is that Stephen seems to be doing a lot of it by himself."

Blade crossed his arms. "I thought there was a whole secret society of sorcerer monks."

"Yeah, and they weren't there. You were." Blade had nothing to say to that. "And on the flip side, if Stephen wasn't there to help out things would have been a lot more difficult for you."

Blade nodded after a bit, slow and begrudging. He wouldn't have been able to save Jackie, the people in the hospital, and defeat Blood all on his own within the given time frame—not without failing one of those objectives.

"Now I get all of you are prickly sons of bitches, but I want someone trustworthy to have Stephen's back. And let's be honest, a couple hundred sorcerers living in secrecy and isolation is nothing when protecting a planet filled with billions of people. They got their hands full dealing with shit from other dimensions; the numbers aren't there," Tony continued.

"What point are you trying to make, Stark?"

"I was thinking of a group—a team. It's pretty clear this supernatural magic bullshit isn't going away. And after tonight I'm positive that it's needed. Guys like you are needed and should be supported—not sneaking about in the dark of night while the rest of us assholes frolic about without a care in the world."

Now Blade was staring at him in surprise. Tony could only nod. The idea was crazy, but it had been on his mind recently. Jericho had come to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. He had built and designed so many weapons because he thought it was the right way to use his gifts. But there had been an entire world under his nose where people were fighting and dying. Who the fuck was Jericho going to protect? Certainly not the poor bastards at Metro-General.

Magic wasn't his thing. But logistics? Strategy? Tech? Yeah, he excelled at those.

"So you want to get a bunch of us freaks together to fight for the good of mankind?" Blade smirked a bit as if Tony was a puppy that had done an impressive trick.

"Honestly? I'm a selfish asshole who wants to make sure his parter doesn't get mauled by a werewolf."

"Seeing as they're magic-resistant, if he doesn't improve his hand-to-hand that is a distinct possibility."

"There, you see? But watch that tone."

"Relax, Stark. I ain't got nothin' but respect for the missus."

"Good. Steph is the best sugar baby a man could ask for and don't you forget it."

Blade chuckled and shook his head. "You rich bastards are something else."

"I prefer the term eccentric. So, what do you think?"

Blade pursed his lips and turned to look out at the dark street. New York City never slept—the lights of the cars reflected against the dark shades. "A team, huh?"

"You've been going at it alone for a while; maybe it's time."

"…I'll think about it, Stark." He flared his coat dramatically so he could mount his monster of a motorcycle unimpeded.

Tony held up his hands. "That's all I ask for. Don't be a stranger, Mr. Daywalker."

"Heh. I'll be around."

Tony watched him speed into the distance.

The smoke curled thick in the dive bar. The murmur of voices and the sounds of balls cracking against each other at the pool tables were just like so many other places he'd been in. Blade had been nursing his drink for a while. Alcohol did fuck all for him but he found some hard liquors to be decent on the tongue. 

One of the things that amused him most about normal humans was that prey instinct. They knew nothing of the real world but they could sense it. The patrons had been giving his section of the bar a wide berth from the moment he sat down.

He perked up at the familiar growl of a large cylinder bike. The rider cut the ignition and there was a creak of metal and leather as they dismounted. Boots crunched on gravel and then clicked on wood as the man entered the bar. Blade held up a hand for another glass just as his companion sat beside him. The man sighed and pulled out an engraved cigar case from his coat pocket. He snipped off the end of one and struck a match. A few puffs had him relaxing.

"It's been a while since I could have one of these."

Blade smirked. "That's what you get for joining a school of all things. Who would have thought?"

"Yeah, well. It ain't all that bad. Solid roof. Mattress. Three squares and then some."

"A real paradise." Blade held up a fist. "How you been, Logan?" The other man raised his own and bumped them together.

"Eh."

"Still no luck with the memories, huh?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"Nah—I'm just used to that pretty face of yours."

"Considering we've known each other since the 70s I should hope so. Speaking of, how's that case of yours?"

"Blood gave me the slip but he's hurt bad. I'll find him." Blade tapped the worn bar top before he came to a decision. "Listen man, I gotta tell you about these two crazy bastards I met in New York City."

Chapter Text

"Your tea, Wong," Stephen said, placing a steaming cup of jasmine before his friend. Wong inhaled the aroma before nodding in satisfaction.

"Acceptable. And just so you know, you shouldn't be using magic in that way."

"Only if you lack a safe word and imagination. Haven't you heard of knocking?" Tony said. He grumbled something under his breath as he tugged a Metallica shirt over his head. "Besides, I'm the one who's upset! It took me weeks to talk him into-"

"Stephen, we need you at Kamar-Taj. It's in regards to the relic you brought us the other day," Wong continued.

"Who is this guy, anyway? Should I be jealous?"

"Yes, but not in the way you're talking about, believe me."

Stephen groaned and buried his face in his hands. Shockingly, his prayers went unanswered. "Enough, you two. Tony, this is Wong. Wong, Tony Stark."

"Wong?" Tony squinted at him. "Just Wong? Like Madonna?"

"No, more like Beyoncé," Stephen commented.

"Oh, I see it. I listen to Dangerously in Love on repeat. Fantastic album."

Wong sighed as if he, too, were begging for deliverance. Stephen could have told him how futile that was. Wong then drained his cup. "And it all becomes clear."

"Babe, is he your Rhodey? That changes everything!" Tony fastened his pants and hopped up from the couch. "My sugar plum looks at me in the exact same way."

Wong glowered at them and called forth another gateway. "I assume he is joining us."

"You assume correctly. I need to make sure this place is on the up and up."

Stephen shook his head but let it go without protest. Tony trusted him—he was fortunate for that much. That trust, however, didn't extend to other magic users. Stephen supposed it couldn't be helped. Tony's first brush with the art was in the form of Thulsa Doom, and then he nearly got assaulted by a resentful Cloak of Levitation. Speaking of.

"Cloak? We need to be at Kamar-Taj," Stephen called. It flew into the room soon after, its coat-tails crossed in a sulk. "Come now. Watch your attitude."

"What's wrong with it?" Asked Wong.

"It was in time out. It tried to smother Tony. Again," Stephen sighed when it settled on his shoulders and jabbed a lapel in Tony's direction. Tony made a rude gesture in return. God.

"How surprising—the man is so charming. I can't imagine why it would do such a thing."

"I should leave all of you," Stephen grumbled as he stepped into Kamar-Taj's hallowed halls. "What's the situation?"

"That scythe you brought is as dangerous as you feared. We don't believe it is fully sentient—certainly not to the Cloak's level," Wong began, nodding when the Cloak preened.

"I'm hearing a but in there."

"It is picky. And has been misused as you are well aware. Your idea to have an expert look over it was sound. But, it," Wong paused and turned to face Stephen and Tony; his expression was even more severe. "It decapitated the librarian."

Stephen froze while Tony grimaced. The librarian was…what were the chances? "An absolute point," he murmured. Poor bastard—to have that be your fate.

"Do you mean to tell me inanimate objects can jump up and murder you—not that I don't know about that already." Tony shot the Cloak a glare and it returned it even without eyes.

"I sensed that it has been stained with a great deal of blood, but it didn't give me any trouble," said Stephen. It had let him wield it in battle non-lethally. Perhaps that was too much too soon. Wong nodded.

"Exactly. And seeing as I'm the new librarian I am now in charge of cataloging our relics. I would greatly prefer to keep my neck attached to my body."

They had entered the courtyard where many students and masters had taken advantage of the lingering heat of summer. Fall would soon bring a sharp crispness that would make them retreat to the halls. The Ancient One sat under the cherry blossom tree, no doubt waiting for them. Her golden robes shone in the evening light. Stephen and Wong bowed.

"I see you've brought a visitor," she greeted. "I was wondering when he would show."

Tony blinked. "You were holding out on me, Babe. I had no idea you knew Sinéad O'Connor." Wong whirled to stare at him while Stephen squeezed his eyes shut as if he could escape the embarrassment. He couldn't, but it was worth the attempt.

"Well met, young Anthony. You have a bright soul," she said. "Tea?"

"Don't drink the tea," Stephen quickly interrupted, shooting his mentor a look. She merely smirked in return.

"Er, thank you? Is she where you get your weird zen thing from, Steph?"

"I don't even know what that means," Stephen said. "This is the Ancient One, the leader of our sect."

"Cult," Tony muttered.

"Technically, we do tick off several markers," The Ancient One admitted. She ignored Wong's and Stephen's stares. "Come, we can talk as we go. I have placed the object on one of our below ground altars, by the dungeons."

"Did—did you just say-"

"What do you know about relics, Anthony?"

"Are we going to just ignore the dungeon thing?"

"Yes. Yes we are. Answer the question, please."

"Uh, well, Stephen explained that objects come in many forms and power, and typically only fulfill a single purpose. They are repositories of magic to ease the burden on the bearer."

"Not bad. Indeed. The typical relic is soaked in magic to perform a job. Sometimes, one is special enough and has been submerged in magics long enough to gain an awareness—much like our friend here." The Cloak preened even more. "When that happens, it can go beyond the bounds of its initial protocols."

"Like an A.I.," Tony said.

"That is one way to put it, certainly. Stephen has told me of your Jarvis. The idea is similar. You programmed him to do certain tasks for you, and as he grew and matured, he takes on a life of his own. If tended to and nurtured, this is a wonderful thing. But, I'm sure you can also guess what would happen if the relic is…neglected. Or steeped in violence."

"Librarians are decapitated."

"Librarians are decapitated." They walked down a series of stone steps. Torches lined the walls, providing the only source of light. The chill grew and seeped into his bones. Stephen felt its presence before they turned the corner and saw it.

The scythe lay fully formed on the long altar. Golden chains wrapped around the handle and runes glowed on its obsidian blade, but it trembled ever so slightly, as if it was a moment away from thrashing against its restraints. The magical barrier the Ancient One had erected did little to suppress the malice. Stephen turned to them.

"It allowed Thulsa to wield it—as a descendant of Set he would have no problem continuing the bloodshed."

Wong frowned. "You can understand it."

"Yes. It's close to shattering like Sofia was. I'll need to touch it."

"Whoa, there. Are you sure you need to do that?" Tony asked. Stephen shook his head.

"It's not the best idea, but there's little choice."

Tony frowned and turned to the other two sorcerers. "He's not going in alone."

"I'll be watching, Anthony. But I have a feeling it will be unnecessary," said the Ancient One.

"Oh it's necessary."

"Tony," Stephen sighed. He leaned close and pressed their cheeks together. "I'll be fine."

"That thing has a kill count." The scythe jerked. "That's right, I'm onto you."

"Through no fault of its own. I have to try. It went with me quietly before."

"…I can't stop you, can I?"

"No, I'm sorry. This is what it means to be a Master of Mystic Arts. And, one day, my duties will encompass more."

"Yeah, well, don't think I'm going to go along quietly."

"Of course not. I'd be disappointed if you didn't push me."

"Ooh, I can certainly stretch your boundaries-"

"Did they forget we are here?" Wong grumbled. The Ancient One merely shrugged.

"Right, well. Let's get it over with. As for you, Red, I know we don't like each other but I'm counting on you to do your job."

The Cloak nodded and held up a coat-tail. Tony shook it and they bumped fists. At least one good thing came out of this travesty. Stephen braced himself and stepped through the barrier. The crackle of energy made his hair stand on end.

The malice emanating from the scythe had thickened. It was if all his previous work was all for naught. Stephen's breaths barely filled his lungs. Pushing down his hesitation, knowing any displays of weakness could prove dangerous, Stephen reached out a hand and ran his fingers down the dark wood. Images flashed through his mind. Chaotic, with blended colors and tinged with red. It went back thousands of years. Long years of fighting, sleeping, suffering.

"Come on, work with me. Give up your secrets—how do I know you? How do I-"

It bucked and showed him more. Slower. Stephen squinted at the scene before him. A man with ragged, black hair and beard stood on top of what must have been a giant. The man held a sickle in one hand and the other grasped the giant's sliced neck. Energy and blood flowed into the man—he was consuming him? Yet even as power emanated from his form it also felt...sick. The scythe bubbled with excitement from the memory of the kill. The giant had once been a god and was so strong but they conquered him as was their right as his power was theirs.

Stephen noticed the scores of robed men and women, then. They swayed and chanted. Stephen wanted out—he wanted out but his hand may as well have been grafted onto the relic. He pushed through the crowd but no one reacted; he wasn't truly there, after all. The scythe pushed forward feelings of confusion. Had he forgotten? Was that why? Why was he upset they did good this was what had to be done to save the humans?

We did good. We did good. Look at what we've done.

The sound of murmuring behind him caused him to turn. The beauty of the woman in white dress and red cloak made it hard to look at her face. He felt dirty, filthy, just being in her presence. The god behind him gasped but Stephen didn't dare turn. He couldn't stomach it. Her glowing face held a severe frown and tears flowed from her silver-blue eyes. Shame. The shame made his chest constrict.

She stepped forward and raised a hand; it was only then that their eyes met. Stephen froze as she looked at him—through him. He didn't pause to wonder how she saw him even though this was a vision—a memory. She looked faintly surprised, then her strict countenance faded away. She smiled.

The relief Stephen felt made him sag. He didn't back away as she approached. Her light touch made the scythe scream in confusion then grow peaceful. She pressed a small hand against his cheek, next.

"So you started over," she whispered. Stephen didn't know how, but he knew to nod. He knew he had beg for absolution. All he wanted was to save the humans she had loved so much—but even after millennia of walking among them he couldn't understand. He had felt more at home in the cosmos but he loved her so dearly. She would grieve. She would be heartbroken so he had to try. Even if he had to break so many rules to do so.

A momma's boy.

"I'm so glad. So, so glad. May you finally learn what I had failed to teach you my darling." She kissed his cheek. "You have time."

"Have I…failed?" The god behind them whispered as the ground began to shake. The robed figures began to run, but Stephen knew the futility. He felt the universe itself shifting. "Why? Why?"

"Time is fragile. And you have gone too far. What will you do?"

Silence. The worshippers continued to scream.

Then the god spoke, "I cannot stop It—not completely, but the larger universe will be saved. That is…all I can do."

"Then that will have to be enough."

"I just wanted-"

"I know, darling. I know."

Desperation made his voice crack and there was a pleading tone that Stephen hated. He had never loathed a being so much in his life. "I'm sorry; I'm sorry!"

"I can't give you what you want now. One day, however, you will have found redemption. Have faith."

She gave Stephen a warm smile.

"Have faith."

And Stephen was back at the altar.

The scythe had grown silent. Stephen had to blink back the tears blurring his vision. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up with him.

No wonder the One Above All chose him. Who better to stop Thanos than one who had done the same? It was so funny—so fucking funny.

Stephen swallowed back a sob. The Cloak floated off his shoulders and twirled in front of him. It patted his cheeks and tried to wipe his tears.

"Ugh, don't, we've been through this before." He sighed when it stubbornly continued. When it deemed the job done it settled again on his shoulders. He turned back to the entrance. They were all watching him but Tony had taken to pacing. Stephen lifted a hand and rotated his wrist. The barrier fell with the sound of crystals falling. The Ancient One raised an eyebrow but did little else.

"Well?" She asked.

"Steph, you look—what happened?" Tony asked. Stephen hoped he wouldn't be disgusted with him.

"We should sit, and I'll explain as much as I can."

Stephen had found that he had only spent less than a minute at the altar, even though it was much longer in that place. The scent of the Ancient One's rooms relaxed him a bit. Tony's warm hand wrapped around his did more.

"It doesn't have an official name," Stephen began. He had transformed it into the sickle form and set it on the low table. "But it was made by Saturn, and used as a tool of harvest and abundance until it all went wrong."

"Saturn? The planet or the Roman god?" Tony asked. Then he made a face. "Can't believe I have to clarify."

"No, you should."

"Gods and goddesses have walked, and continue to walk, the Earth, Anthony." The Ancient One smiled at his clear consternation.

"And so did what the humans called Sāturnos," Stephen said.

"You're telling me that gods exist. Then what the hell are they doing?" Tony asked.

"Being as flawed and as broken as humanity," Wong answered. "Being the righteous and holy protectors many believe them to be. Being powerful—being weak. They are as varied as mortals, Stark, so that is a hard question to answer."

"Sāturnos could have stood to keep better track of his shit, then."

Stephen smiled at that. "Agreed. The true Sāturnos presided over the Golden Age where humanity flourished after so many millennia of hardship. He was the god of bounty, of agriculture; but, more importantly, he presided over Time. And it is in that duty, he…nearly ruined everything."

The Ancient One nodded. "It is a heavy burden full of many missteps."

Stephen waved a hand and a great, curling spiral appeared above their heads. Dots appeared at random intervals along its length.

"He wanted something. It would require bending time and disregarding the natural order. This isn't easily done. There are points of certainty that anchors time to reality and space so it can function and keep the universe moving. These events must happen, or it all falls apart." Stephen took a deep breath. "Sāturnos knew this—of course he did. But the fear that he would fail…He was so terrified of failure that it was too much."

Tony nodded, slow and thoughtful as he took it in. His eyes looked gold in the reflected light. "He kept trying to erase or nudge a fixed point, but to do so effects things down the chain."

"Indeed. You are aware of the myth of the titan, Saturn?"

"Mythology aren't my interest but I know the basics. He overthrows his father Uranus and then eats his children so they don't get any funny ideas; wait, did he start eating people? Because that explains a lot."

"There is a nugget of truth…there were no children that he sired, nor a father to be overthrown, but there were other gods that presided over time and fate. And when his strength proved to be insufficient-"

"-he ate the lesser gods to increase his power. It makes sense—terrible sense, but still."

"Earth is an oddity in the universe. Due to a confluence of events a strange number of powered beings have come to be on a relatively small amount of space. There were…plenty of deities to absorb." Stephen bit back the shame. He couldn't stop here. He promised Tony the truth when he was able to give it. "They weren't enough, either, so he tried to summon a being from another dimension—an enemy that had plagued him for so long but could, perhaps, be enough. If he took Its power, maybe he could succeed. 

But that was too much. Time started to break—the fabric of the universe threatened to come apart. It was only then that Sāturnos came to his senses and sacrificed himself to prevent it. His godhood, his immortality, his mind."

Stephen lifted his eyes to gaze at his audience. Wong, for once, looked stunned. Tony's eyes met his and Stephen knew Tony understood.

"He gave up everything, didn't he?" Tony whispered.

"Yes." The silence was heavy, contemplative.

Tony squeezed his hand again. "So what now?"

"It's hard to say. But, there is a chance for redemption. For service. And perhaps one day it will be…" Stephen took a deep breath. "Perhaps one day it will be enough."

"…Is this why you're so obsessed with watches?"

Stephen stared at him. Then laughter bubbled up. It wasn't even all that funny, but he was so relieved he hadn't lost him, yet. Tony grinned in victory and tugged him close. His kisses on his brow and cheeks were warm and felt like forgiveness.

"Do we inform the other masters?" Wong asked the Ancient One.

"Stephen will decide if and when," she said, voice firm.

"I hope this doesn't change anything. You need not treat me any differently," Stephen said.

"I wasn't planning on it—it's clear you need all the help you can get," Wong replied.

"I suppose so. I may be, perhaps, somewhat reckless."

Wong stared at him with a face that may as well have been carved from granite.

Tony held up a hand. "Wong, I get it. And I don't want you to worry. I take my responsibilities very seriously. He won't be getting up to any universe-destroying, time-shredding shenanigans any longer. I promise."

"I doubt this. Sincerely," Wong said.

"Have some faith. I'll keep an eye on him. And my hands…and other body parts-"

"I used to live a normal life." Wong sighed. "How did I get here?"

"You love us. We are a bright light in your monotonous days-" Tony began.

"You two need counseling. And to stop using magic so perversely!"

"Oh don't be such a fuddy-duddy, Wong. Everyone does it," sighed the Ancient One. Stephen and Wong stared at her in ill-disguised disgust while Tony doubled over in laughter.

Stephen and the Ancient One lingered behind as Wong and Tony walked ahead. Tony was gesticulating broadly while Wong appeared to be the picture of dignity.

"How long have you known?" Stephen asked.

"Your mother came me in a dream." The Ancient One nodded at his surprise. "She loves you and wanted to make sure you were looked after. But it is too soon for you two to meet."

"…How fitting. I consider you my mother," Stephen admitted. The Ancient One faltered, surprise flashing across her features. He continued, "To think even as a human I fell into the same bad habits. It would seem I am doomed to suffer from hubris."

"We all have our faults."

"Mine seem to be more destructive than others'."

The Ancient One merely hummed at that. She tucked her hands into her sleeves. "Will you be wanting your relics back?"

"No. It's best the Eye stay with you for now. I have much to learn, after all."

"I am curious. Why Sāturnos and not your true name?"

Stephen fell silent as he cast his mind back in an attempt to remember. "I am Sāturnos. That is who I am from another lineage. As it stands I have failed my immortal mother, Oshtur, and I am not worthy of the name she had given me—not yet. It's funny, however."

"What is?"

"I am well known as Agamotto. Yet. No one has bothered to ask about my other parent." He dispelled the scythe into particles that wrapped around him, ready for him to call at a moment's notice. "It's fine. I like my life. I am fortunate for this opportunity."

They watched Tony and Wong together in companionable silence.

Tony didn't say much when they portaled back home. Jackie, Zoe, and Sofia were still out so Stephen set about making dinner while Tony objectified him with gusto. So incorrigible.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Stephen said, glancing up from adding spices to the roux.

Tony blinked and pulled his gaze away from Stephen's ass. "What's that? You want me to buy you an apron? And matching lingerie? Well if you're sure-"

"That sounds sexy until you've seen far too many incidents come through the ER."

"Where's your sense of adventure? I know where mine is."

"Focus, Mr. Stark. I meant everything that happened today."

"Oh, that whole god thing?" Tony shrugged. "At this point I'm just rolling with it, babe. Cthulhu could rise from the sea and I'd probably be cool with it."

Stephen grunted and said, "I've already had to disrupt the summoning of an Old One in an underground city full of horrors."

"Look at you, you overachiever! That definitely deserves something expensive. Not another watch, though. You have a problem."

Stephen ducked his head with a small smile. "…I'm glad I chose you."

"And you're perfect for me. And so gorgeous—wait. Do you have any extra parts I should know about? You look human enough."

"I technically am. Although, I do have a third eye."

"Eh…"

"And I can make copies of myself."

"Now you've gotten my attention. How many and how long?"

"I'm saving it for a special occasion. You'll find out then."

Tony placed a hand over his heart. "This has been an incredible year and I have you to thank for it. Blessed." Then he fell silent. He cocked his head to the side and stared at Stephen with such intensity he actually squirmed.

"Tony?"

"Wanna head down to Cambridge, Massachusetts on Monday?"

Stephen blinked in surprise at the seeming non-sequitur. "Cambridge? Why?"

"Because I don't think you'll truly believe me until you have something tangible."

Stephen blinked.

Oh.

"…You really want to rush that special occasion, don't you?"

Tony shrugged with a total lack of shame. "Guilty."

"Will you please reconsider this?" Pepper hissed as her hands shuffled through the general NDAs several people at City Hall were going to have to sign. The Justice of the Peace sounded nice enough on the phone. Bright and early on Monday morning was the best time, she said—few people showed up unless they had to. But, still, precautions had to be made. Tony got into enough shenanigans that Pepper always had several copies of various documents ready to go; he'd been counting on that habit of hers when he made his decision.

"Nope." Tony scrolled through a list of lawyers on his phone. They'd joked Tony had far too many assets to not update his will at the first opportunity. He couldn't use SI's team because that would alert the Board and Obie far earlier than he wanted. He had half a mind to warn his honorary uncle, but from the way he and Stephen had clashed that would be a terrible idea. Obie put up with a lot but a surprise wedding might make the man metaphorically strangle him. No, best to get all his ducks in a row and airtight before dropping this in his lap.

"Then at least wait until we can get a pre-marital agreement written up!" Pepper hissed. Stephen was meditating. Or sleeping. Tony didn't know. If he was eavesdropping, and Stephen would absolutely do so with no shame, it was hard to tell.

"Pep, I'm a billionaire with a multi-national company. That could take close to half a year between the drafting and negotiating and all that shit. Not waiting." Tony wrote down the number of a potential hire before continuing. "Besides, what could go wrong?"

"What could—Tony, look. I'm your friend and I like Stephen. I truly do. But you are marrying a man ten-"

"Eleven."

"-years your junior in a rushed ceremony at City Hall after only six months of knowing each other!"

"When you put it that way it sounds crazy. And the start to a murder mystery."

Stephen smirked (totally eavesdropping; knew it). "It didn't take much for me to pressure you to change your will."

"Want me to give you everything?"

"Not everything. Some will go to a few charities of your choosing."

"Pretty sure I'd read this Agatha Christie novel."

"Only there's no Poirot and the police solve depressingly few murders so I'll get away with it."

"I respect your hustle, babe."

Pepper groaned. "…You're still doing it."

"Absolutely."

"Oh my God. Rhodey, please talk to him."

Rhodey cracked open an eye, still tired from spending hours on a plane. Tony could not believe the man; he used to bounce back far quicker than this. Turning 40 had done him no favors, poor thing. "Tones, just listen. You know we want what's best for you."

"Yup," Tony said, writing down another lawyer's number.

"And love is a beautiful thing."

"So beautiful."

"You know I love you-"

"Platypus I'm flattered but I'm gonna need you to 'hold your peace' at least until tomorrow."

"As a brother," Rhodey finished. "It's just this is a little fast, man. For starters, you live on opposite sides of the country."

"Ooh, good point. Hey, babe?" Tony called.

"Hm?" Stephen murmured, eyes still closed as he centered his chakras or connected to his third eye or whatever.

"How attached are you to Metro-General?"

"Very."

"...Want me to buy it as a wedding present?"

"How sweet of you. But no."

"You still wanna live in Manhattan?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, babe." Tony turned back to his friends. "Guess I'm moving to New York. The Malibu mansion can serve as a second home so I'll need to build something in the city because none of the properties have caught me eye. You know, I've been thinking about a tower for this new thing I'm working on-"

"You're gonna just build a tower?" Asked Rhodey.

"Um. Yeah? I got some old plans somewhere. Oh, I should use the ARC technology to power it. Pep make a note, please. Besides, you heard my little muffin-"

"I will drop-kick you off the cliff," Stephen's voice sounded tranquil despite the threat. Tony couldn't believe how in love he was.

"I can design anywhere with enough juice and tele-work is a thing. But Stephen kinda needs to be able to put his hands on his patients. It's called compromise. I am being very mature about this."

"So mature."

Tony blew him a kiss and continued, "Now I know I have put you two through some...things...in the past-"

"Last week?" Pepper sighed.

"Exactly. The past. But despite what you two think I am well aware of how long we've been seeing each other and how this looks. I am well aware of what the Board is going to say to me. I am aware that this country is so homophobic that we're going to get all kinds of abuse thrown at us from people who should have no fucking say on my relationship. I was just really hoping that, despite how crazy this looks, my own friends would show me some support because I'm actually not a complete idiot."

Rhodey and Pepper stared at him in shock.

"I was hoping that, when the shitstorm comes you'd have my back instead of questioning every single decision I make. If this really bothers you, I get it. And I do appreciate your concern and pushback. So, hey, you are more than welcome to go about your business. Stephen and I will catch up to you later. But this is happening."

"I..." Pepper trailed off. She tried again. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't want you hurt, Tony. That's the absolute last thing I want and this could really do some damage if anything goes wrong. No offense, Stephen."

"None taken," Stephen said.

"And what if it goes right?" Tony countered. She had nothing to say to that, neither one of them did, so he continued. "A part of the reason why I'm doing this is because a lot of things can and have gone wrong and I want Stephen and Sofia protected."

Stephen's eyes jolted open and he looked at them. Tony smiled at his surprise; he wasn't often caught off guard.

"Remember when that building fell on him? Because I think about it all the time. What if I get sick? What if he gets sick? In a fair world I wouldn't have to travel to the only state in the union that allows same-sex marriage; I'd be able to give him the lavish ceremony he deserves without the threat of a hate crime. We'd be able to see each other and make decisions for each other. But we don't. So here we are.

So would it be at all possible for you to pretend to be happy for me?" 

Now they looked guilty, which Tony honestly did not want. He knew they cared and this was how they were showing it. But, damn, he was actually happy. He'd had no idea of how unhappy he was until he woke up one morning months ago and realized he wanted Stephen to just...stay with him. Didn't matter how. And once he kept being happy he got addicted to that shit. Now that he got a hit no one was going to take it away from him. 

But it wasn't just that. Until recent events, he hadn't realized that it went both ways. That Tony made Stephen genuinely happy by being himself. That it wasn't just one-sided—Stephen had chosen him right back. Stephen was afraid of losing him, too.

Once Tony decided he wanted to do something, he did it. And he meant every word he said: he'd protect Stephen as best he could.  Obie's resistance would look like a peaceful stroll through the park compared to what the Board was going to do once they found out the President and CEO was engaged to another man. Dating and fucking around were one thing—not ideal, but temporary. They wouldn't, couldn't, do anything outright but a thousand tiny barbs over weeks and months was far worse than a single knife in the back. They'd pick and prod and wear him down; they'd make something that should be wonderful into a toxic mess. 

He refused to give them the chance. He'd gone along with a lot of things before because it made no difference. Now? He a taste of what his life could be—the potential. If Stephen ever got to the point he didn't want Tony anymore it'd be because of Tony himself, not some conservative asshole benefiting from his genius.

Besides, if Tony's plans came to fruition being married could come in handy with all of the supernatural craziness going on. Stephen may need access to Tony's resources and it would be a lot easier if he legally owned that shit, too.

Rhodey clapped his hands, breaking the silence that had fallen. "You know what? Life's short and you somehow managed to find your even more egotistical and chaotic doppelgänger. God help us all. Let's get you married in front of a judge. And sure, we're wearing jeans, old sweatshirts, and a very tasteful dress," Pepper smiled, "but you two are weird so it works. I'll worry about finding a restaurant afterwords but don't expect much since you gave me no time to do any best man duties."

"I will handle the paperwork. All you two need do is keep things PG until you're no longer in public," Pepper added.

"I was with you, but then you had to ask for the impossible," Tony quipped.

"Try."

"Wait a moment." Stephen uncurled from his pose and reached out to Pepper's stack of contracts. "You have a basic prenup drafted up, right?"

"After a certain incident in 2003, yes."

Tony frowned then his face cleared. "Oh, yeah! Man, she was quite the...oh, uh, no one. She meant nothing to me." Stephen rolled his eyes and picked up the contract. It was standard—in the event of a divorce they retained the assets they brought into the marriage and split what was earned while in union. Considering Tony's net worth it was pretty generous to the other party, who would definitely be earning far less. He scanned the pages and held up a hand.

"Pen, please." He signed on the dotted line with a flourish. "There. Problem solved."

Tony beamed. "God, I wanna spend more money on you now." Stephen winked in return.

"You two deserve each other," Rhodey sighed.

"We do!"

"So, when are we heading out? Knowing you you're doing this today. Is Fi staying behind?" Asked Rhodey.

"Oh, everyone's already gathered—I just had to get you two. Ready, babe?" Tony said. Stephen stood and summoned a portal with a quick gesture. Pepper screamed while Rhodey jumped out of his chair and reached for a gun he did not have. Stephen stared at them in shock before his eyes narrowed and he glared at Tony.

"You didn't tell them."

"…Ooh, shit. I knew I forgot something." They stared at him. "Uh, magic's real!"

Pepper trembled as she stepped through the portal. She looked bad enough that Christine moved forward to check on her.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" She asked.

"My soon-to-be-husband is an asshole." Stephen sent him another glare. Tony did feel bad—it had honestly slipped his mind!

"So nothing out of the ordinary?"

"Perfectly normal."

"Hurtful." Tony turned to the assembled group. "Thanks for coming—whoa, hey, Blade! Didn't expect you!"

The dhampir shrugged and said, "I was bored. And finishing up a thing in Salem."

"Good enough for me. You sure you're okay to be here, though? I thought vampires couldn't enter places like this."

"… …This is a city hall, Stark."

"Oh, yeah. Just making sure."

"You and Strange deserve each other."

"I know!"

"Is there anything else we should know about?" Rhodey asked, voice faint.

"I am so glad you asked, honey bear. It's important you meet the in-laws. This is Eric Brooks, a.k.a Blade—he's a half-vampire who hunts vampires."

"…Okay-"

"You know Christine (she's still single you should go for it—you, too, Pep). This is Jacqueline Falsworth. She's our new au pair and also a vampire…mostly. Sinéad O'Connor and Wong over there are Steph's magic mentor and second BFF, respectively-"

"Just Wong? Like Rihanna?"

"No, no, more like Beyoncé."

"Right."

"You know Fi." She waved and hopped up and down. "But some extra news! She's an alien, apparently? Stephen's daughter by blood ritual? I don't get it—I've learned to mind my business."

"What the fu-"

"And you know Zoe, her tutor. She says she's normal, but look at us!—we don't believe her."

"I-I'm so happy you invited me, Mr. Tony! You and Dr. Stephen won't even know I'm here, I swear!" Zoe practically vibrated on the spot.

"Breathe, ZZ Top. Well, I guess that's it-" Stephen's scarf then reared up and slapped the back of his head. "Oh, right. This is the Cloak of Levitation. Stephen's other, other BFF."

"D-Did that piece of fabric just move?" Pepper whispered. Stephen looked apologetic. 

"Yes. Cloak is an ancient relic. It can change forms so it chooses how it wants to look in public." Both Pepper and Rhodey were at a loss in what to say.

Tony cleared his throat. "So, hey, these are my good friends, Pepper and Rhodey." The group stared at each other before Pepper sighed. 

"I'll—I'll get started on the paperwork."

"You see that? Rock star," Tony commented as she staggered away.

"I'll watch her," Christine offered and Stephen nodded in gratitude.

"Both of them. Rock stars," he continued as Christine went to join her.

"I can't believe you forgot to tell them!" Stephen exclaimed.

"Really? I can," Wong said.

"I'm not that surprised," Blade added.

"Yeah, it's a bad habit of his," sighed Rhodey.

"That is not true!" Tony protested.

"October 1995."

"…Rhodey, sugar plum, I thought we agreed to never talk about 1995." Tony smiled weakly at Stephen's clear suspicion. "He's kidding."

"Oh, hey, Rhodey. Boss said he was going to get you," Happy greeted as he walked up. He had a camera hanging from his neck and a tripod in his hand. "Good news—one of the courtrooms can be set aside for us. They usually do this on the lawn, but, you know, that's out."

Rhodey crossed his arms in disapproval. "You knew about this?"

"Sorry, man. I found out by accident when I was watching Sofia and she tried to swallow a cat. Whole." Sofia's face fell and he quickly patted her head. "It's okay. You didn't know. We're not mad."

"Finding Nemo was great in teaching her that humans are friends, not food, but we do struggle with small animals." Stephen gently pinched her cheek and she beamed at him. Rhodey turned back to Tony who could only smile. 

"Family, right?"

Rhodey finally chuckled and nodded his head. "Right, Tones. Hey, so your name's Blade-?" Relieved at his easy acceptance, Tony stepped closer to Stephen and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Am I forgiven?" Tony smirked at the sigh he received in return. He turned to The Ancient One, who had traded in her robes for a tasteful linen suit with periwinkle shirt. "Looking sharp, Ms. O'Connor. Glad you could take the time out of your day—Stephen won't admit it but he would have cried if you or Wong couldn't come."

"I'll make you cry," Stephen threatened.

"Steph, please, not in front of your mom. We gotta save that for the honeymoon."

"It's no trouble," The Ancient One said, "Thank you for inviting me. I do have a soft spot for these sorts of things."

"I know. I saw your Danielle Steele collection." Stephen smiled. Then he frowned and placed a hand on Wong's bicep. "Wong, are you okay?"

"I always get emotional at weddings," he said, voice solemn and gaze on far wall. "They're very moving."

Stephen and Tony glanced at each other. Stephen patted his arm again and nodded. "It wouldn't be the same without you, my friend." Wong nodded, expression unchanged.

"I know."

"Well, Pepper's waving us in. Let's get inside before people notice you."

"Because I have a bright soul," Tony said with a wink.

"You are an idiot and lucky if your brake lines survive the year."

"I can't wait to marry the shit out of you."

Stephen startled, then he gave that rare, sweet smile of his made Tony's heart do somersaults in his chest.

The Justice was a chipper woman despite the day and the hour. If she was surprised by Tony's appearance she gave no indication. She nodded as Pepper confirmed the details of the ceremony and NDAs. Stephen didn't seem to mind the unused courtroom and that was the important thing, really. Once her papers were in order, Justice Ortega directed Tony and Stephen to stand before her. Stephen took a moment to gaze back at the group, surprise on his features.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"I just…never had so many people by my side before. This may come as a surprise but I've not had a lot of friends."

"No. You?"

"It may be hard to believe, but it's true," Stephen intoned. Christine, bless her, only made a slight face and said nothing.

"What a lovely day to have a wedding. Shall we get started?" She adjusted her glasses and began, "Welcome and thank you for gathering here today to witness the joining of Anthony Edward Stark and Stephen Vincent Strange in holy matrimony. It is my honor to officiate the ceremony of such an eclectic looking couple-" Oh, Tony liked her. "-and I invite those here today to join in the joy of new beginnings and deep, honest love.

Marriage symbolizes the intimate sharing of separate lives. This sharing does not diminish the individuality of each partner; it enhances it. A good and balanced relationship is one in which 
no person is overpowered or absorbed. A marriage that lasts is one which is continually developing and adapting, and one in which each person continues to grow as an individual.

Mr. Hogan has been kind enough to provide me with this passage and I am delighted to read it." Tony came back to the present just enough to glance at Happy in surprise. He hasn't given him much time to work with, but the man rose to the occasion as always. Said man broke out into quiet sobs—Sinéad had to hand him a handkerchief.

Justice Ortega read, "You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you—the rose that belongs to me. But in himself alone he is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is he that I have watered."

Tony lasted this long but one look at Stephen's red eyes was enough for his own tears to begin to fall. The hold on his hands tightened. Tony returned it, desperately trying to ground himself because he thought he was going to float away or implode.

"Because it is he that I have put under the glass globe; because it is he that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for him that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is he that I have listened to, when he grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when he said nothing. Because he is my rose," Justice Ortega finished, beaming.

"And in lieu of the exchange of rings, I have been informed that you have written your own vows?"

It took Tony a solid minute to collect himself and clear the lump from his throat. "First of all, I don't know where the hell you found that, Hap, but way to make me look bad at my own wedding. Um, to be honest I never thought I'd get married. What, with the crippling daddy issues, public life, numerous partners, alcoholism, previous drug addiction, gambling, tendency to jaywalk-"

"Jaywalking? I'm questioning everything," Stephen said.

"The point being ever since I saw you across the room my life has grown more colorful, more peaceful, and full of laughter and long talks into the night and being challenged to dig deep and grow as a person. You made me want to be more. Not just for you, but for myself as well. I honestly can't believe I found you. When you told me how you found the courage to leave your asshole father to die alone of stomach cancer I knew then that you were something special."

Stephen sniffed and blinked back tears. "That must be the sweetest thing you have ever said to me."

"Left his father to what?" Asked Pepper.

"My goodness," Jackie gasped.

"Hm," Wong sighed.

"You people go hard here, huh?" Blade grunted. Their reactions were unsurprising; Stephen was amazing.

Tony continued, "So I'm proud and honored you said yes and it's scary how much I love you. I swear I will work my ass off so that you never regret this for a second."

"Beautiful," Justice Ortega said when it was clear he finished. Tony seriously liked her. "And Stephen?"

"I must admit, I was half-expecting you to quote The Princess Bride but it appears I've done you a disservice," Stephen said. Tony gasped and turned to the Justice.

"Any chance we can back up a bit because I really dropped the ball."

"Don't you dare fuck up my wedding with 'wuv, too wuv,' and 'wike a dream'—Tony, I swear to God."

"I'm gonna do it."

"I will make you suffer."

"I bet you will you're always good for it—wanna tell me how?"

Stephen finally smiled and if they didn't get arrested on their honeymoon (or get a noise complaint at minimum) Tony would be shocked (and disappointed).

"PG," Pepper hissed.

"Right. Well, I, too, thought marriage wasn't for me because of my arrogance, control issues, self-destructiveness, pettiness, and a tendency to alienate others."

"Maybe I should be rethinking things," Tony joked.

"Hush, at least I don't jaywalk. When we first met I found you charming company but not much else. When we went to dinner two weeks later I was struck by how sweet you were. Your intelligence was a given, but your inherent kindness was, admittedly, humbling. I...a part of me wondered what to do with that. Emotions are not my strong suit and I've been told I can be intense. People have been difficult but you've never been. Being with you has been the easiest thing in the world. Easier than falling, and I've fallen in love again and again and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. Your well-being and happiness is of paramount importance to me and I'll not have you regret anything either. I choose you and I shall keep choosing you."

Justice Ortega nodded and led them through the final vows. They were coming to the end and Tony hoped his heart would let him get that far. There was only now with the man standing before him, proud as ever and looking just as happy to be tied to Tony. 

"I wish you both good fortune. And now, it gives me great pleasure to say: By the power vested in me by the State of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you to be husband and husband. You may kiss your-!"

Tony was so far ahead of her as he yanked Stephen into his embrace and kissed him. He was dimly aware of Rhodey's whistle and Happy's sobbing and the sound of loud applause, but Stephen's lips and scent overwhelmed everything. His. His his his. He felt Stephen smile.

"You know I think I did pretty good," Rhodey said.

"IHOP?" Asked Stephen but the usual bite of sarcasm was gone. It seemed marriage provided a nice dopamine fix, however brief it would be until Tony said something unfortunate.

So about twenty minutes if history bears out.

"Considering it's 9:30 in the morning and I had all of half an hour to find something you should be grateful for even this much."

"We love it, sugarplum, don't get huffy. And you be nice," Tony cooed. He kissed Stephen's wrist; he had yet to let go of him since the ceremony and spared little thought to how his husband was going to eat one handed.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I like IHOP," Stephen said. "Of course my pancakes are superior."

"Yeah they're superior-"

"They can't do anything in public, right?" Zoe whispered.

"Pretty sure they're the type to try." Blade looked amused at her despair.

"Don't worry. They're going to behave so we won't have to deal with any publicity." Pepper's glare could have curdled milk.

"Of course. Tony, please, control yourself," Stephen said as if he wasn't enabling him every step of the way.

Guess they were waiting for the honeymoon. Ooh he had plans. Tony settled for pecking Stephen on the cheek and ruffling Sofia's hair. "I can't help it, carinyo, you are a treasure. Anyway, you okay there, Hap?"

His friend nodded, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. "Sorry, I just really love weddings. Gets me every time. Your pictures look great if I do say so myself. I'll have them professionally edited and in an album before the week's out."

"You did a fantastic job. You have quite an eye for composition—I'm very pleased," Stephen said.

"Goodness! The approval of Stephen Strange?" joked Christine.

"It's not as great as it sounds," Wong said.

"You would insult me on my wedding day?" Stephen asked.

"Yes."

"Hm, it's been quite a while since I've had American cuisine," The Ancient One said as she perused the menu.

"It's IHOP you really don't have to think too hard about it," Stephen noted.

"It's a very important decision let Ms. O'Connor order anything her heart desires." Tony kissed him again. "After this we should really have clam chowder for lunch. I'm pretty sure it's required by law once you cross state lines."

Chapter Text

Sofia tapped the table to gain Zoe's attention and held up her drawing in triumph. It was a mass of squiggles and assorted colors, but underneath it all were two larger figures with a small one in between them.

"That's great, Fi! They'll be really happy to get that once they come back from their honeymoon," Zoe congratulated. "Why don't you put that in your room for safe keeping?" Sofia beamed and ran off to do just that. Sofia's art was plastered on the walls and tall windows and columns and took up all the available real estate on the refrigerator. Her go to subjects were her family (Tony teared up when she handed him her first picture), but, occasionally, there were scenes of darkness and jagged streaks of red. Zoe had heard the story, of course, but it was easy to forget that Sofia was different.

She was just fortunate Doctor Strange chose her for tutoring. She had excelled in school; when she came to New York she enrolled in a local community college for lack of any other plan. She had been on the last of her funds when she got the job. Coming across his advertisement had been a god send. He must have sensed her abilities (pathetic as they were) when they met for the interview—Doctor Strange stood out like the billboards on Times Square—but the fact that he said nothing was even better. Zoe was tired of magic.

Zoe finished placing the last of the supplies away when Jackie returned, arms full of groceries.

"Oh, l-let me help you!" Zoe scrambled to relieve Jackie of her burden.

"Thank you." Jackie beamed and Zoe did her best not to stare at her. Why did she have to be such a mess? "How did Sofia's therapy go?"

"We're going to run out of wall space, soon. Do you think Mr. Tony's really going to build a tower?"

Jackie giggled. "We should be glad it's only a tower. I thought he had property on Fifth Avenue? That would be plenty of space."

"Um, yeah. A mansion or something…but I don't think he likes it. Are you doing okay? Being here with Sofia?"

"We have a lovely time. Don't we, dearie?" Jackie smiled when Sofia nodded with enthusiasm.

"Oh, good! Good. That's, um, good." Fortunately Jackie only nodded and continued to put the food away. Zoe sighed, then she cringed at Sofia's unimpressed stare.

"I'm trying, okay?" She whispered. Sofia scoffed and ran to the closet to get her coat. She hopped up and down and waved it above her head.

Jackie blinked. "Oh, you want to go to the park? Well, it's a little close to lunch but it's a nice day. Zoe, won't you join us?"

"S-Sure! I'm not busy! I don't have a thing going on—not a single thing that's more important. But only if it's no trouble. Would it be trouble?"

"Not at all! You know you're more than welcome. I'll get Sofia's sweater—the cold snap is a bit early."

Zoe flushed and did her best to ignore the intense judgment radiating from Sofia's eyes.

Central Park wasn't that far from Stephen's apartment. Zoe spent the trip doing her best not to stare too much at Jackie. Her enhanced senses made it difficult to be subversive, but Zoe couldn't help herself. Jackie had been so quiet and withdrawn when she first came to stay—not that Zoe could blame her. She couldn't imagine! It made her own struggles seem stupid in comparison. Zoe glanced at her once more. Then down when Sofia tugged at her hand. Sofia raised her eyebrows then tilted her head towards Jackie. Right.

Zoe took a deep breath. "Um, J-"

"We're here! Sofia, stay where we can see you. Oh, were you going to say something?"

"…Nope." Zoe ignored the grunt of disbelief.

"Remember, no eating anything unless we give the okay. This includes the squirrels." Sofia pouted. "Yes, they are annoying. No, we cannot eat them." A jogger stared at them as she passed but they studiously ignored her.

"D-Did she really fight the squirrels?" Zoe asked as Sofia skipped off.

"I try not to think about that day."

The two of them found a bench and contented themselves with watching Sofia chase her ball. Zoe had so many things she wanted to say but no real idea how to do so. She wanted a lot of things that were beyond her. She had run away to New York for a fresh start—from her shame. But some days it felt as if she had gone nowhere at all. There were days she missed the sights and sounds of home. She missed her mama's cooking and walking along the banquettes at night. She missed gathering with her family in Cities of the Dead with only the moon out for light. Now she wasn't sure if she could ever go back.

"Zoe? Are you alright?"

Zoe wrung her hands and said, "Yes, I'm fine."

"I know we're not very close, yet, but you can confide in me. I'm not the best conversationalist, but…"

"N-Neither am I, don't be sorry. It's just, well…" As pathetic as it was, Sofia did give her this opportunity. She should take it. "I think-"

The smell of gas, sharp and sudden, made her heart squeeze. It couldn't be.

"Zoe?"

"Hm? O-Oh, nothing." It felt as if her heart struggled to remain in her chest. Judging from Jackie's expression she heard it. Zoe knew it—it had been too good to be true.

Zoe waited until the lights went out and Jackie settled down in Sofia's room. Stephen didn't have another guest room, but she was perfectly happy to sleep on the couch. It was better than some of the beds she had stayed in on her journey north. She waited until the early morning hours before standing. She donned her discarded clothes and slipped out of the apartment.

October was just around the corner. Even without the calendar she could feel its approach as the veil thinned in preparation for the Hallowed Days. Zoe wasn't sure where she was going, but she followed an unseen thread down poorly lit streets. The trees of Central Park loomed eery in the moonlight.

It should not have been so dark.

She slowed and stretched her senses as best she could. Zoe wrapped her arms about her, jittery. After a moment, an all too familiar voice called out to her.

"It's been too long, Zoe." The friendliness set her teeth on edge. She knew what it hid. "And so far away from home—looks like your father can't interfere this time. Come now, I know you must be hungry." The familiar drawl held promise as the gas lantern on his staff glowed. He hadn't changed at all. The top hat and long coat hid his bulk, whilst the blue scarf covering his face left only twin pinpricks of light to stare at her.

Zoe trembled. She had thought she had escaped him. But she was stupid—so stupid. And she had no chance of fighting him off.

"I'm different, now," she whispered.

"Are you? Are you sure?" The small lanterns that granted his wishes hung tantalizingly on his belt.

"I am. I won't fall for your tricks!" Again.

Gaslamp tilted his head in acknowledgment. "That is a shame." He raised his hand and Zoe tensed. She tried to gather herself together to make a basic shield.

Shadows shifting in the distance distracted both of them. When they rose up and settled into a shape Zoe gasped in horror.

"Sofia! What are you…?"

Sofia, still dressed in her pajamas, made an angry gesture with her hand and stomped her foot.

"You would rely on a child?" Gaslamp examined her. "No…not a child." Sofia bared her teeth in a smile. Zoe gaped as her eyes glazed white and her teeth elongated into fangs that dripped into saliva. With a hiss she sank into the shadows once more. Gaslamp adjusted his stance and brought up his staff just in time. Black strings of ichor burst out of the shadows around them with a shriek and shot towards Gaslamp with terrifying speed. He leapt back and with bursts of dark magic repelled some of the attack but had to dodge others.

Zoe stumbled back in surprise as the battle tore across the earth. Clumps of dirt and grass went flying as Sofia did her best to eviscerate him. Gaslamp twirled his staff, stoic despite the number of fangs snapping at him from the shadows. Mouths with jagged smiles chittered in anticipation of sinking into him. His coat and pants were ripped several times yet he summoned wisps of fire that surrounded the entire area. The air shimmered and twisted. Zoe had to shut her eyes to fight against the vertigo. Shrieks of rage filled the air as the shadows were banished and Sofia rolled across the earth. Her hair was wild and snapped her fangs in fury. She crouched, tongue elongated and flicking. Gaslamp raised his staff a final time.

"Amusing, but I must bring this to a close."

Zoe lifted her hands and her magic sparked but she struggled to summon it through the tears. Why? If she were truly a Laveau, why? A strong breeze caused her dreads to whip around and there was Jackie, punching Gaslamp into the ground. As he flew back from the blow she winced and shook her arm.

"I need to learn how to punch," she panted.

"Jackie?? You're fast!" Faster than a vampire—that wasn't something she got from being imprisoned by her uncle. "How are you that fast?"

She shifted guiltily. "I know, I should have told, but I didn't—well, it doesn't matter. Who is this?"

Zoe hesitated. If she told then she would have to explain the hows and whats and whys. The shame nearly clogged her throat. Gaslamp stood as if he wasn't hit by a superhumanly fast punch and brushed off his coat.

"I suppose this is what I get for dealing with children." He slammed his staff into the ground and it split with a roar. The area lit up with eerie light. Sofia gnashed her fangs and threw out an arm. Black tendrils shot towards the magician but they were halted by a shield of some kind. "This is the end."

Zoe tried once more to call upon her power but it proved useless. She felt heavy—her arms and legs refused to move no matter how much she tried.

She should have never run away from home.

"Jackie, get Sofia out of here. Just leave me, please!" She cried. 

"But-!"

"Get Sofia!" Zoe shouted. Jackie looked at her in surprise, then nodded with reluctance.

"Come on Sofie-girl," Jackie staggered towards the child as if she were walking with blocks of cement on her feet.

"Impressive strength, but we're done here." Gaslamp's light grew brighter.

"Oh, we most certainly are." The sky broke into shards and then shattered. Zoe gasped for air and lifted her hands when she could move once more. She felt him long before she could make him out in the darkness.

"Dr. Stephen!" Zoe wanted to cry with relief. Sofia clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

"You did well, darling. But I'll be taking it from here," he said. With his black shirt and slacks he blended into the shadows almost as well as his daughter did. Gaslamp straightened but said nothing. The two men stared at each other. Doctor Strange's cloak snapped as if reflecting its master's irritation.

"You're early," Gaslamp said eventually. Jackie wisely inched her way out from between them.

"Yes, well, when someone knocks against my wards I do tend to pay attention. You were smart enough to wait until I left the country—I'll give you that. But as I'm me, thousands of miles mean nothing."

"This girl owes me. You know how it goes—magic has a cost and she needs to pay her due."

"Zoe Laveau has reimbursed you with interest. Go. You have a great deal of nerve attacking these girls and I'm not making a request."

Gaslamp's pinprick eyes bored into Doctor Strange's before a white glove reached up and tipped his hat. "This isn't the last of it; you know very well."

"Indeed I do. Enjoy the rest of your night." Doctor Strange waved a hand and a bottle of rum appeared in Gaslamp's.

"Heh. Very well." He swirled the liquor and nodded in satisfaction. "From one Saturday to another: congratulations. Send along my apologies to your beau. I understand a man dislikes being interrupted."

"I'll pass along the message."

Gaslamp nodded once more and vanished.

They survived. They actually survived. Zoe sank to her knees with a whimper. She looked up when Stephen drew closer. Sofia had hopped up into his arms and was gesturing wildly. She then pointed to Zoe and thumped her chest.

"I understand you wanting to protect your friend, but it's the job of the adults to watch you, not the other way around." Doctor Strange smoothed her hair.

Zoe laughed derisively. "She did just fine—I'm clearly the one who needs help."

"Dr. Strange, it's so good to see you. I…we're sorry-" Jackie stuttered.

"You are more important than my honeymoon. Besides, Tony enjoys my teasing him with waiting."

"You didn't have to share that."

Doctor Strange smirked. "I did, actually. Ah." He dug his cell phone out of his pocket when it rang. "Hello, honey. Yes, they're all fine."

Sofia waved an arm. "Sofia says hello. Mmhmm. I'll be back soon. You worry about keeping your energy up."

Zoe and Jackie looked at each other in despair.

"Tony, you should watch your language, the girls are present." Ugh! "Yes, of course; love you, too." He pocketed the cell and with a quick gesture a ring of eldritch energy materialized.

Zoe allowed Jackie to help her up and they staggered into the penthouse. Stephen set Sofia on her feet and she resumed hopping up and down.

"She was amazing," Zoe offered. Sofia smirked and nodded with all the air of royalty.

"She's up past her bedtime," Doctor Strange countered, smirking when her bottom lip jutted out.

"Can someone please explain what happened?" Jackie asked. Zoe winced when Doctor Strange looked at her.

"Zoe?" He asked.

"How long have you known?" She whispered.

He looked apologetic and said, "Dark magic leaves traces behind, as I'm sure you know. And my Eye allows me to see the truth and beyond illusion."

Zoe froze in horror. "You could always see me."

"I could always see you. And I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"I was s-stupid," Zoe choked out.

"You were a child. And he is very old and very crafty."

"You know him?" Jackie pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed Zoe's cheeks.

"Time and Death are closely intertwined—inexorably so. Birth, Growth, Death—all tied by the passage of Time. I don't know him specifically but I am well-acquainted with what he represents. As Loa of the dead he is not one who should be crossed."

"He goes by the name Gaslamp back home, and he trades in wish magic. Everyone knows him—knows how dangerous he is and to stay away. But I couldn't. I'm the direct descendant of the great Marie Laveau but you wouldn't even know it. I'm so weak. My father was so disappointed—if I could just get stronger I could…"

"He took advantage of you, didn't he?" Said Jackie.

"My power would fade and I would have to keep going back. I could feel the magic eat away at me but I couldn't stop. I nearly died—would have, if Papa hadn't gotten suspicious. I struggled to learn so my sudden prowess…he couldn't ignore it. But by that time the dark magic had taken its toll and I was bound."

Jackie's eyes widened slightly, but as she had also fallen prey to a powerful man she nodded in sympathy. "How did you break the bond?"

"My parents petitioned our ancestor, Marie Laveau. It worked, but…" Zoe removed the charm and let her true self show. Her smooth,  grey, scaled skin and twisted smile. The hair she had once been so proud of had faded and lost its color. "I was a fool."

"You were vulnerable and a child. And you don't need to hide yourself here," Stephen said.

"Yes, of course!" Jackie added. Sofia patted Zoe's arm. Zoe shook and Doctor Strange, bless him, saw she was nearing the end of her tether.

"You girls get some rest. Do you need me to stay?"

"You get back to your honeymoon, Dr. Strange. And we better not see you before then."

He chuckled and straightened with a sigh. "Okay, okay. I'm going. You call me if there's any trouble. Sofia, you keep being good." She saluted and he nodded in return.

"Hey, wifey," Tony called from the couch. Sheafs of paper were cast about the table before him, obscuring its surface. "How were the girls?"

"There was some trouble but I handled it."

"You are so good at that. Anything we need to keep an eye on?"

"Perhaps, but we're fine for the time being. He sends his apologies for disturbing our honeymoon."

Tony's brows shot upward. "Did he? How'd he know?"

"It's like magic." Stephen chuckled when Tony rolled his eyes.

"Well, he's forgiven as I'm not thrilled we had to hide it behind a business trip."

"I'm okay with that, don't worry. I've been enjoying the sights of Tokyo. Speaking of business, did something explode while I was gone?" Stephen asked and motioned to the papers scattered about the low table.

"Nah. I am kinda pissed at past me, though. I can't believe I let it get this bad." Tony pushed himself away from the table and faced him. "Now I really can't tell Obie what I'm doing. If he finds out I've slipped this much...Howard would have kicked my ass."

"You'll get it done. It's only been a few days and I've been told that Ms. Potts' ability to dissect a contract is exceptional."

"It really is. But I think I got a temporary fix. Pepper's been great and qualified for more than I'm paying her. She's way past due for a promotion." He clapped his hands and grinned. "So! R&D moves with me while the majority of our manufacturing processes and aeronautics division stay out west. She would also be in charge of the startup and incubator arm I'm thinking of creating. You were right in that I let myself get too focused on weapons. It got the company far, but there's going to be a technological explosion soon and I mean to be at the forefront. Pep will be right at home."

Stephen, who had only known her as CEO of Stark Industries, startled in surprise. He probably should not have assumed, but he didn't think marrying Tony would have this kind of effect. "Like a chief officer of some kind?"

"Yes and no...well, make it yes—no reason not to. She'd still be reporting to me. I figured it wouldn't be right to make her move just because I got hitched. I've been wanting her to do more for a while, but as you can see," Tony gestured to the intimidating amount of paperwork on their dining room table. "I wasn't at my best. She is so much better at this shit than I am, so I let her run LA for a bit and see how it goes."

"That's a good idea," Stephen nodded as he worked through the implications. There was a chance, it could have happened this way. He simply didn't know. And she had done well as CEO—it would make sense that she got her feet wet first. "That's where her strengths lie and it wouldn't be too overwhelming."

"Pretty sure she'd kill me if I dumped my job on her. Can you imagine? It's bad enough she's doing as much as she is. Okay. So I get more involved with R&D and churn out products and applied research. Some things can be brought over from our weapons manufacturing and satellite tech, but I've got ideas."

"Sexy."

"That goes without saying but feel free to tell me as often as you'd like."

"Mm, seeing you like this is very sexy."

"That's the ticket. And it gets better, sweetheart. Shit, where'd that map go?"

Stephen contented himself brewing them some tea (Tony complained but Stephen had a vested interest in keeping him healthy so he can deal) while his husband shuffled through the graveyard of trees.

"Got it. We may have a spot. Not too far from your place, actually. It'd be on a corner so stupidly expensive to buy and build, but luckily I can handle stupidly expensive. Once everything is signed we can get started immediately."

"Is this a symbol of your love or something else?" Stephen drawled, looking over the design. It was a little different than what he remembered, but these were the beginning stages.

"Too phallic? Or not phallic enough?"

"And far bigger than the surrounding buildings."

"That's just being honest."

"You are a child." Stephen manfully ignored the swat to his rear end. He accepted the quick kiss, however. "You seem to have things well in hand—shut up."

Tony smirked but said nothing.

"So walk me through...whatever is going on over there."

"Right." Tony grimaced and reluctantly began to put the papers in some semblance of order. "I got up to speed on what most of our subsidiaries are doing; but there's this one that I nearly missed. It's a shipping company. On paper it's to consolidate and cut costs on the import and export of materials but there's something weird about it."

"How so?" Stephen leaned against his shoulder. Tony was wearing one of his tight tank tops so he had little choice but to press soft kisses along the bare skin of his shoulder. Summer had been good for Tony, tanning him into a soft gold. Stephen idly scanned the printouts in Tony's hands. Inventory. The items, however, were a series of numbers with the occasional letter. Reference, most likely, with the index secured elsewhere.

"These are manifests; nothing special, they just list all the goods being loaded on a ship at port A and subsequent declarations at each destination."

"That makes sense—you must ship materials to your holdings all the time."

"Yeah, we do. It's standard practice so I understand why Obie went ahead and put it under SI's umbrella, but something's off about it. The ports of origin are fine—we ship from New York, Norfolk, Baltimore, and Long Beach all the time. I have no idea what the fuck we're sending to the Cape of Good Hope in Africa, however."

"You don't know what's being shipped to Africa?"

"Nope. Which, yeah, we've established is definitely my fault." Tony groaned and scratched his head. "Obie's been in the game since the Stone Age, so it's probably some shorthand system he developed that he can't shake."

"He must have some sort of key somewhere."

"Yeah. He's not that great with computers so who knows what his filing system looks like." He sent the stack of papers a look of despair. Stephen clicked his tongue in sympathy, but this was what happened when you passed the buck.

"I brought us a late lunch. Eat, take a break. Even your brain needs a breather once in a while. You can figure out Stane's paranoid, Cold War era cryptogram some other time. You should do it soon, though."

"Will do, sweets."

Stephen offset the vegetables with enough meat that Tony only made a few token protests. They played footsie under the table as they talked about their days. Once done Tony went about tidying up while Stephen chose the album for the afternoon until dinner. 

"Ella Fitzgerald today," Stephen murmured, pulling the record from its place on the shelf. Tony's selection in his Tokyo penthouse wasn't as extensive as Stephen's own so he shamelessly brought some over. He was proud of his record collection, and had genuinely hated selling it off.

"I do need to head back to Malibu soon to get this process started. It'll take months, after all." Tony balanced his laptop on one arm as he meandered into the living room. "This thing is annoying as hell I can make something a hundred times better. Maybe a tactile screen..."

"When do you think is a good time to let the Board know?" Asked Stephen as Ella's sweet vocals filled the air.

"It'll take a couple of months for everything to settle and all the necessary legal documents to get finalized, so me and Pep figure we'd do our best to keep a lid on everything until after the new year. Of course, if you want me to shout it from the rooftops tomorrow I'll do that. I could get your name on my chest and run around topless."

"Marriage tattoos, hm? Maybe I'll get a matching tramp stamp."

"You do that and we would never get anything done. Well, except for your-"

"Classy. But I don't mind waiting—the important people in my life already know and can keep a secret. I'm fine with whatever makes things easier for you."

"It'll never be easy, but waiting gives us more control over the situation."

"And your godfather?" Try as he might Stephen couldn't stop the contempt leaking into his voice.

"Am I going to have to worry about Obie's brake lines?"

"Hm." Stephen smiled at him.

"Okay don't answer. But I should let him know first. There won't be a best time for that."

"I suppose. Perhaps it might be best for you to clean things up and get a handle on your company before you test Mr. Stane's patience."

"So kick the can as far down the field as possible. Let's do that." Tony patted the space between his legs. Stephen huffed but obediently joined him on the couch. It took him but a moment to settle on Tony's chest. "And I have just the thing to keep him busy."

Stephen craned his head up to better see the laptop screen. "Is that it?"

"Yup. That's the Jericho. I'll be sending the schematics down tomorrow for manufacture."

Stephen considered his words for a long time, fingers tracing patterns along Tony's ribcage. "You want honesty?"

"I would not have married you otherwise. You are mean as hell—I love it."

"And I love seeing your genius at work. I don't like that it's for missiles. At all. I support you no matter what, but if it's possible, can the next thing you show me be...less destructive?"

Tony nodded. "I promise. Actually, let me show you the ARC Reactor. I've been looking for ways to improve it—fucking thing's humongous and currently too expensive for production."

With a few clicks Stephen saw the reactor in all its glory. In the future everyone had been aware that some form of the reactor powered Tony's suit, giving it the iconic glow, but no one had the details for obvious reasons. To see the origins up close was exciting.

"This is revolutionary. How did your father develop such a thing? It seems way ahead of its time."

"Yeah, I know. I've had several breakthroughs of my own, but when you look at the technology of the time in comparison to what Howard was doing with the reactor, it's...okay, it's like you got a bunch of neanderthals making stone weapons, which is fine, but then some asshole comes along and manages to build an airplane."

"Hm. He must have left comprehensive notes behind. Do you-" Stephen trailed off at the look on Tony's face. "Ah. I see I'm not the only one with a contentious relationship with their father."

"To put it lightly."

"You'll tell me whenever you're ready."

"I will. It's just, I didn't get any sort of closure with Howard. And the bastard took Mom with him. But that's not a bad idea you have. When I got the news about the car crash I just packed up his stuff and shoved it in the basement. Maybe it is time to take a look—at least see if he can be of some use. The New York mansion isn't that far."

"Do you need me to go with you?" Stephen asked. Tony traced the lines that formed the design of the reactor as he considered his answer.

"I'd like that."

"Then consider it done. Let me know when you're ready." Stephen gently relieved Tony of his laptop and began scrolling through the project notes.

"Gonna sell my secrets, sweetheart?" Tony teased, carding his fingers through Stephen's hair.

"Never." Tony's steady heartbeat under his cheek soothed him. 

He had so little time left.

Chapter Text

The months passed by in a blur. Tony had thought himself happy before but it was obvious he hadn't known shit. His cheeks were beginning to ache with all the smiling he'd been doing. He knew all too well that being in a relationship wouldn't solve all his problems (thanks Sunset), but he'd never considered the benefits of a healthy one.

He whistled while he worked for fuck's sake.

The sudden changes to corporate structure had, as he'd known it would, sent the Board and his godfather in a tizzy. Once Tony had pulled up the charts and discussed the figures, most of them had settled down. The contracts with the government would keep them floating while everything got restructured, but once they realized that SI would only benefit from Tony Stark's renewed focus they shut their mouths and let him make them money. Tony wasn't bothered by the couple of holdouts—they'd never wanted him to be CEO and he didn't like their asses either—but Obadiah's resistance surprised him. The man had been bursting with pride over the Jericho, which Tony had loved, but he'd been less pleased with Tony's proposed changes. He'd never thought Obie of all people could be so rigid.

To top it all off he kept finding weird shit in the shipping manifests. He probably wasn't putting in the time he should have to solving that strange (ha!) problem. After all, he was working 80 hour weeks, easy, so that they'd be done with everything by the end of the year. Still, The Cape of Good Hope had come up a few more times, followed by Yemen, and then the Baltic Sea of all places? He probably wouldn't be nearly as annoyed if he hadn't had to work in analog. The more he looked the more unsettled he became. Something was rotten in Stark Industries, and it ran so far deep Tony would have a hell of a time extracting the poison without harming innocents. He may not be able to.

Stephen teased him for having to stoop so low to using manila folders again, but he'd allowed Tony to construct a safe in his closet wall for their safe keeping along with other records. Just in case. Tony was good for the cost, after all, and Stephen was the best husband ever.

And, shit, Stephen was amazing.

He'd not complained about Tony's work schedule, erratic visits, nor late hours. He'd forgiven Tony's forgetfulness and distraction more than once; it must have been excruciating for someone with eidetic memory, but he did it. Stephen was so zen Tony wondered if his talks with Ms. O'Connor had anything to do with it. Tony wasn't going to complain because it looked like he wasn't going to get served divorce papers. 

But, okay. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. He'd done the press gauntlet over SI's recent changes and the new tower that was going to add to New York City's iconic skyline in the next year. He'd gotten a positive reaction so far. JARVIS was doing well and looking after his growing family (shit he had a family!) while Tony ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. The military was thrilled with his newest offering which meant Rhodey was in a fantastic mood himself. Pepper was already sending him plans and ideas for her new position; it was cute, honestly.

"Do you want to celebrate?" Stephen asked one morning. Tony glanced up distractedly from the YouTube video he was watching while braiding Sofia's hair in penance. Sofia had not liked Tony being in absentia the past several weeks. Tony hadn't liked the realization that he was fast becoming his father if he didn't shape up.

"Celebrate?" Tony asked.

"The holidays. This weekend is when your parents," Stephen trailed off. Tony stiffened. That was right—he had somehow forgotten. Tony hadn't celebrated Christmas since the 90s for obvious reasons. He didn't buy a tree or hang up tinsel. He usually spent the month doing his best to dive into the bottle while Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy did their best to keep him out of it. "It's fine if you don't. Truth be told I haven't celebrated it since I was kicked out, Jackie has been imprisoned for decades, and Zoe is estranged from her family."

"We're kinda sad, aren't we?" Tony said with a derisive snort.

"That's one way to look at it, certainly. I happen to enjoy our dysfunction."

That fucking car crash. But it would be Sofia's first Christmas—their first Christmas. Tony tied off the braids with a ribbon. They didn't fall apart immediately so he considered that a success.

"I think we should try," he finally said. "Sofia never had one, and maybe the girls would like it. Couldn't hurt. We'll do it properly—big tree, decorations, music. She'll like it." 

Tony's breakneck pace meant all the heavy lifting had been done, so all that was left was smooth sailing for the holidays. If anything, he found himself warming up to the idea. He'd spent so many years trying to live up to Howard's legacy despite the convoluted feelings of anger and love he held for the man; yet, he never thought of surpassing him. Not really. But when he saw the girls' eyes bug out at the size of the tree Tony had delivered…yeah, he could do so much better than Howard Stark. Be better.

Stephen looked suitably impressed, and Tony knew all to well how hard he was to satisfy (Tony enjoyed the challenge).

"We can choose our own decorations?" Jackie asked. She looked awed, and teary, and Tony couldn't resist wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Any you want! Catalogues are on the table. We can even do those crackers and pudding thing you British people like. I remember Jarvis making some, actually."

Zoe smiled and eagerly dove for one of thick magazines. "First things, first. We need to get Mariah Carey's album!"

"I'm assuming you mean her 'Merry Christmas' album, released in 1994 from Columbia Records?" Stephen asked. "I actually don't own it, so feel free to get a copy."

"A-And we should have a bonfire on Christmas Eve! And a Réveillon Dinner-"

Tony laughed. "Make a list, ZZ Top. We can get through it all, don't worry."

Stephen pressed against him when as the girls, now very excited, dove for the catalogues. "This is kind of you."

"Anything for family." Tony canted his head to the side so Stephen could better get to his neck.

"I'm beginning to think I should add something special to your gift," Stephen purred in his ear. Tony's grip tightened around his waist.

"You spoil me, carinyo. Are you taking suggestions-"

"Minors are present! I'm definitely still a minor!" Zoe yelped. Jackie muffled a giggle while Sofia perused the pages before her. She looked so much like Stephen in that moment a part of Tony wanted to cry a bit.

"How long are you going to be a minor, Z? You turned 20 in October."

Zoe leveled him with a look. "As long as you two are around? Until you die."

"Wow…can you believe that, Steph?"

"I suspect this is the vestiges of that teenage ennui I hear about. Of course, I've already died, so I suppose this means we're good to go," Stephen said, smirking at her dismay.

"This is true. C'mere."

"You two are the worst!" She cried. Tony snickered and decided to put her out of her mercy.

"Okay, okay. Pick out what you want and put it on my card."

Jackie tsked and shook her head. "How many times must we tell you—we're not going to recklessly spend your money. You've done much for us and it would be ungrateful." Tony opened his mouth to argue but jumped when he felt Stephen's hand pull his wallet from his back pocket.

"That's a good sentiment to have. I, on the other hand, have no issues with spending his money." Stephen plucked a jet black credit card from its sleeve.

"That's because it's foreplay for you two," Jackie grumbled. Tony couldn't argue that either because it was true. Stephen was just spectacular in all the best ways. He should buy him something later—it'd been a good two weeks since the last gift! Unacceptable, really.

"What're you buying?" Tony asked.

"Dr. Fuller has been hopeful our marriage would bear fruit for the hospital," Stephen began. Tony grinned.

"It's not that big a deal. I'd be happy to and it's not like my accountants won't itemize a tax write-off."

"Honey, please. He doesn't need to know that—best to keep the man humble."

Tony snickered and said, "You're good at that, too."

"Be that as it may, I do believe it's best to share one's good fortune. You'll end up regretting this, I'm not so sorry to say."

Tony may have a fetish.

With that ominous declaration, his husband spent the next few days, buying multiple trees and decorations for the hospital's paediatric ward. He'd also bought food, drinks, and a large number of gifts for the children and their parents to enjoy. Many families were spending every last cent for their children's health so holidays had a tendency to be sparse. Stephen's coworkers also appreciated the chance to celebrate.

Tony hadn't understood Stephen's threat at first; Tony liked kids just fine, and at least his money was going to a good cause. Then he'd been forced into the ugliest of Christmas sweaters and enlisted into doing everything from serving food to making sure nothing went wrong with the electronics. Christine laughed at him because apparently Stephen only befriended sadists. The hospital's stereo system alone nearly gave him a stress aneurysm it was so old and broke.

"Man you are whipped." Rhodey sipped at his eggnog as he watched Tony struggle with a string of Christmas lights. Jackie and Zoe manned the table—making sure it was stocked and the drinks kept flowing. Sofia seemed to be having the time of her life playing with the other kids.

"Have you considered helping? And what the fuck is up with this thing? I am a literal genius why the he-"

Rhodey cleared his throat. "Child incoming."

"-ck is this so gosh darn hard? Golly gee. Oh, hey kid."

"Hey," the girl chirped, biting into a cookie. Her brown eyes studied him for a moment.

"Can, uh, we help you?" Rhodey tried. Tony had to bite his tongue when she sent his friend a rather impressive stink eye.

"You don't have to talk like that. 'M a cancer patient, not a baby."

Rhodey winced and scratched his head. "Right. My bad."

"No big," she said, shrugging. She focused on him once more. "You're Tony Stark."

"Last I checked. Though I'm currently being held captive against my will, forced into laboring for a cruel mistress."

"Does Stephen know you're calling him a cruel mistress?" Rhodey snickered.

"Probably. But I'm planning on getting my own back on that a-" Then Tony remembered their visitor. "-bsolutely lovely human being. We just tease. Totally G-rated teasing." The girl  squinted at him suspiciously.

"Yeah, sure. I'm Riri. I read all about you."

"Well, I'm flattered Ms. Riri. How old are you?"

"Five, but I'm smarter than all the other kids here so it's pretty boring." Rhodey sputtered at the matter-of-fact statement but Tony only paused. He examined the girl before him with precisely braided hair and crumbs on her cheeks. Then he smiled.

"You know what? I believe you. Of course my kid's here right now so you may have to fight her on that."

"Sofia, right? She's cool. Is she going to M.I.T, too?"

"Her dad wants her to go to Harvard."

"Lame."

"Right? Don't worry—I'll nip that in the bud."

Riri nodded in approval. "I'm going to M.I.T when I get older."

"I know you will."

"And I'll go earlier than you did."

"Wow, excuse you," Tony said as Rhodey laughed. "I don't know why you found that so funny, seeing as you were sixteen."

"Tuh! That late? What were you doing?" Riri curled her lip as she looked him over. 

"Great, now you got a mini-me," Rhodey sighed. He lifted his hand. "Over here, Stephen!"

Stephen, in a tasteful white sweater with Cloak as red scarf, approached with drinks in his hands. Sofia was on his heels and glaring at Riri in suspicion. Stephen grinned at the sight of Tony's failure and handed him a cup.

"Why don't you take a break?" He said.

"I'm going to," Tony huffed. He kissed his husband on the cheek and patted Sofia's head. She leaned against him and with a deep frown. Stephen's eyes were warm as he looked down at Riri.

"And who's your friend?"

Riri held out her hand and shook Stephen's with a respectable grip, considering her age and illness. "I'm Riri. You that cruel mistress Mr. Stark was talking about earlier?" Tony broke out into a nervous sweat as one of Stephen's eyebrows shot upward.

"What? That's just—kids, am I right? Precocious." Tony cleared his throat and took a long sip of his drink.

"Indeed. Precocious. We'll discuss this later, Mr. Stark." Stephen turned back to Riri. "I'm Dr. Stephen Strange. You must be one of Pamela's patients."

"Yup. Leukemia. But I'll be okay! I'm really smart so I'm going to M.I.T."

"I have no doubt. But perhaps I can tempt you towards Columbia, my alma mater?"

"Mm...nah. No offense, but I'm going to M.I.T like Mr. Stark and build really cool robots."

"None taken. I think his robots are really cool myself." Stephen winked and Tony couldn't stop his stupid, lovesick smile even if he tried. Rhodey sighed but said nothing out of the friendship they shared.

"You shoulda gone to M.I.T, too."

"No, dear. I made a promise to become a medical doctor and I make it a point to keep them." Before Tony could ask, Riri nodded in agreement.

"It's important to keep promises." Then she pointed at Sofia. "What's her problem?"

"I'm afraid she's picked up some of my bad habits. Sofia? What have I told you about being nice, darling?"

Tony coughed. "Didn't you tell her not to bother?"

"Did I say that? That does sound like me. Well, there's no need to be antagonistic—she's only speaking to your father." Sofia huffed. She pointed at her eyes, then jabbed her fingers at Riri's to Tony's amusement.

"Uh…" Riri muttered.

"Riri, there you are! I told you not to stray too far!" A harried looking woman rushed towards them. "Gentleman, I'm so sorry-"

"Not at all, ma'am. You've got one amazing daughter. She said she was going to kick my butt." Tony winked while Riri gasped.

"I didn't say, 'butt'!"

Rhodey stepped forward and shook Riri's mother's hand. "Don't listen to him. He teases. And you are?"

Although flustered, Riri's mother rallied enough to smile and smooth her hair. "Goodness, my manners! I'm Ronnie Williams. And it looks like you know all about my little Riri."

"She's definitely a fighter."

Tony caught Stephen's eye and nodded to the side. They smoothly extricated themselves without Rhodey nor Ronnie noticing, but Riri scowled at them as they left. She looked torn between going after her hero or protecting her mother.

"Make friends, Fi," Tony said, leaving Sofia to scowl at him as well.

"Do I want to know?" Stephen asked as they walked away.

"Let's let my good friend work his magic. Maybe there'll be a Christmas miracle."

"I have a good feeling about it," Stephen said. They stopped to take a look at the decorated floor. Children were laughing and playing with their presents—their cheer infecting the adults who smiled or joined in from time to time. Nat King Cole played over the speakers from Tony's victory over the ancient sound system. Outside, snow began to fall in fat clumps. It was shaping up to be a picturesque Christmas. He'd spent the beginning of the year bored, alone, and drunk; the sheer difference of a scant few months made him nearly breathless.

And Stephen looked so beautiful.

"Mm. So, you have a private office," Tony began.

"I do."

"And access to a shower."

"Quite right."

"And no one's gonna notice we slipped out."

"It's looking that way."

"We should have sex," Tony noted.

"We should," Stephen agreed.

Merry Christmas to him.

Shame, though, that the new year was the worst of his life.

"Long time no see!" Obadiah, thank fuck, seemed to have mellowed out over the holidays. He held a wrapped box in one big, meaty hand, the other slapping Tony on the back. That old man strength was something else. "Stephen! You got a nice place, here. Love the piano. You gonna miss it when you move into the tower?"

"No," Stephen drawled. Tony sent him a quelling look and ushered his godfather into the kitchen. It had taken two days and lot of sexual favors (not a hardship to be fair) before Stephen acquiesced into letting Obadiah darken his doorstep. Christine waved while Pepper and Rhodey greeted him with bright smiles and slid over a plate of food. Happy had declined the invitation—his aging mother had wanted him close to home.

"Obie, this is Dr. Christine Palmer, a friend of Steph's," Tony introduced.

"Pleasure to meet you, Doctor. Hope you've had a good holiday," his godfather said.

"I work in the ER so it's been eventful as usual. But I've had a nice time, considering," Christine replied, shaking his hand.

"I bet, I bet. Now this looks fantastic." Obadiah helped himself to the dip. "Mmph. Delicious."

"Stephen made it," Tony said, taking the offered present.

"Well, he is a man of many talents, isn't he?"

"You've finally noticed." Stephen smirked at Tony's scowl. One thing he learned about Stephen Strange was that even when he 'lost' he had a knack for making the victory the epitome of pyrrhic. 

"Rhodey, Pepper. It's been a while-" Tony left them to chat while he focused on opening the box. The familiar sight of his favorite scotch made his mouth water.

"Macallan 18 Year Sherry Oak; you always had expensive tastes my boy," Obadiah chuckled. "Consider that an apology. We've been butting heads for months so I'm hoping we could start fresh."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. We have been arguing quite a bit, lately. This'll be perfect for the toast. Thanks, Obie."

"What a lovely gift. Tony doesn't drink much anymore but I suppose this should be all right," Stephen purred.

"For fuck's sake you cannot help yourself," Tony grumbled.

"Nope."

Obadiah looked surprised. "Really? That so?"

"Well, yeah. To be honest I feel great. I haven't been this sober in a decade. It makes doing my job a lot easier," Tony said. Obadiah fell silent. His expression was—actually Tony had never seen him look that way before. Then he sighed.

"That's fantastic, my boy. I mean it. I had no idea it was that much of a problem? Sure the tabloids like to play that stuff up but you always seemed to come through with your designs!" He chuckled in good humor. "I didn't mean to enable bad habits. Guess it's because me and your father used to have drinks and cigars and I couldn't let that go. I see so much of him in you."

Tony frowned in concern and patting his godfather's hand. It was easy to forget but Obie had lost his closest friends that night, too. "Hey, I get it. But at the end of the day it's my responsibility. I could have refused or cleaned up my act any time. And, look, it's no problem. A glass or two won't kill me and my doctor over there will keep an eye out."

"I am so proud. How're you handling it?"

"In my case a lot of it was boredom. I got ways to keep my mind active."

Stephen nodded, "Yes. And when he gets the urge I distract him by sitting-"

"-with me and we talk through it," Tony interrupted. Geez, that was his godfather!

"I must say, I think I was really wrong about you Stephen." Obadiah held up his hands as if in surrender. "You truly have my godson's best interests at heart."

Oh thank God. Maybe they could finally tell the man about their marriage. "Told you. I haven't eaten so many vegetables in years."

"A real miracle worker! Now I hate to bring this up during your time off but I got an idea. Rhodey this concerns you, too. I suspect you'll hear about it soon enough."

"What's up, Obadiah?" Asked Rhodey.

"Tony's genius is what's up! The Air Force boys are over the moon with your project and want a demo ASAP," Obadiah began. Tony was briefly distracted by Stephen moving in his peripheral. But Obadiah continued, "Now I pulled some strings, greased some wheels, and you'll be flying out by late January."

A crash and a sharp curse made Tony turn. "Steph?"

"I—I'm sorry, I didn't-" He looked shaken for the first time since Tony had met him. The bowl lay in chunks and smaller shards on the floor with Stephen's blood smearing the wood. 

"Don't leave him standing there, son, get him to the couch!" Obadiah shooed Tony into action. Shit, he was right. What the fuck was he doing?

"Okay, it's okay." Tony danced around the mess and picked him up with some effort.

"I got the medkit, set him down," Christine ordered. Pepper was grabbing the broom while Rhodey dug under the sink.

"That was a very nice bowl," Stephen muttered.

"I will buy you ten, crystal, don't worry about it." Tony took his time arranging Stephen and his long legs so Christine had easy access.

"It slipped, I-"

"It happens, just relax. You've been doing the heavy lifting prepping for this get-together anyway." Tony pressed a kiss to Stephen's cheek and rubbed his shoulders.

"You're rarely clumsy, Stephen," Christine joked. Tony winced as she cleaned him up. It must have hurt but Stephen's gaze had settled on something in the distance, unflinching.

"Mm," he hummed.

"There are disposable gloves under the sink! Don't clean up that blood without them," Christine called.

"I've dealt with blood before, don't worry," answered Rhodey.

"What was Mr. Stane going to say?" Stephen asked, suddenly.

"It can certainly wait for later," Obadiah started.

"No, I didn't mean to interrupt you." Stephen's hands clenched.

"It's a demo, sweetheart. Me and Rhodey have been doing them for years," Tony assured.

Stephen had yet to look away from whatever he was staring at. Worry clawed at Tony's throat. "We met then, you know."

Fuck. Tony knew that the wedding anniversary was important, but he had no idea Stephen counted the day they met. "Obie, can we push it back? I wasn't expecting anything until spring, anyway. Why this early?"

"Our flyboys are eager to get an order in. At this point they know we're good for it, but they still have to give the paper pushers at the DOD a report. So we get that out of the way and start cranking 'em out ASAP. Now I figure this will make the Board real happy—happy enough they won't make a fuss about Stephen not being Stephanie," Obadiah said.

"So I schmooze a bit and they'll leave Stephen alone?" Tony asked. Something...niggled on the edge of his consciousness, but he shook it aside.

"That's the plan. You gotta go anyway; at least this way we can get a bit extra out of it."

"So it really is going to happen, huh?" Asked Stephen. However, Tony got the feeling that Stephen wasn't talking to him.

"It'll be quick. I'll be back before you know it." Already missing an anniversary and it hasn't been a year god-fucking-dammit. Tony waved the others away after thanking Christine once Stephen's bare feet had been cleaned and wrapped. The cheers and music from Times Square began to swell as the last minute of the old year began to wind down.

Stephen looked at him, finally. His eyes were silver in the lamplight. "I'm not angry at you—and I don't blame you. I only wanted you to be safe, but I realize now that I can't stop you.

It...truly is unavoidable."

Tony tapped his fingers on his desk as he waited for the call to connect. He only had a few more hours until his flight left for the Middle East, and he wanted to get the ball rolling before he left. The demo threw off his team building plans somewhat, but Tony could make do. Stephen and Sofia slept in the bedroom; although, Stephen had been sleeping terribly for weeks. Tony didn't have to be a genius to know something was up, and he had a suspicion it was some magic thing Stephen couldn't share. Tony had never been nervous about his demos before; now, he wondered.

No, that wasn't quite true. He'd been suspicious of certain things for a while.

The person finally picked up the phone. Tony grinned. "Hey, Shiro, is this a good time? Time zones aren't my forte."

"It's a good time, Mr. Stark." Yoshida Shiro, or Shiro Yoshida in Western naming conventions, greeted politely.

"Are you settling in? Mr. Katagiri seems pleased with your work."

"Yes! I am thankful for the opportunity, of course."

"Glad to hear it. Have you thought about my offer? Again, no pressure on my end. Your internship is yours no matter what. But you impressed me and I want to give you an option."

"I…must admit it's tempting. But are you certain? If my granduncle finds out-"

"Leave Shingen to me if that happens. Understand? Listen, I'm emailing you some documents—in Japanese, don't worry. Your English is spectacular but I'm not going to make you suffer. I gotta go to Afghanistan but once I'm back we can hash everything out."

"Yes sir, thank you very much. You won't regret this."

"I know I won't, Shiro, don't worry about it. Keep up the good work." Tony paused, then he tapped another command into his laptop. "Shiro, I need you to do me a favor. I'm sending along another encrypted file, password is you-know-what. Should something happen to me, I want you to give it…eh, a month and then contact Elsa Bloodstone. Can you do that for me?"

"Mr. Stark?"

"I know this is sudden, but something's caught my attention and I need to make sure my bases are covered on this. The information is all there. Can you do that for me?"

The silence stretched long as Shiro considered his words. It was partially why Tony asked him. While it had been a shame he'd had to mask his honeymoon behind a legitimate business trip to SI's offices in Japan, the good thing was he had stumbled across the only son of an old business partner of Howard's. And it had been kismet. Shiro had just been accepted into the prestigious Tokyo University, but was being crushed under circumstances outside of his control—a shame, considering how bright he was. It made him thoughtful as a result and he would not take unnecessary risks.

"I can contact Ms. Bloodstone, Mr. Stark. Do you anticipate any problems?"

"My life has taken quite the turn, Shiro. But this is for my own peace of mind; I'm doing all of this for my husband, after all."

"I'll see it done, Mr. Stark, you have my word."

Tony laughed, "You don't have to be so serious, but thanks. I'll let you get back to what you're doing. Take care of yourself, kid."

"I will! Thanks again!"

Tony set his phone down on the desk and leaned back in the chair. The office had once been plenty for Stephen to review cases but now seemed cramped once Tony moved more of his equipment in. Jackie had moved into Sofia's room and Zoe ended up on Stephen's couch more often than not. He found he liked it. Stephen didn't appear to mind either despite the fact it was his space and intended to be a bachelor pad.

The sound of the door creaking drew his attention. Stephen blinked tiredly in the lamplight.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Stephen grumbled.

"Not my fault Japan is so far ahead in the future."

"Hmph." Stephen padded forward and slumped into his lap. The chair creaked—definitely not meant for the weight of two grown men.

"Come here," Tony murmured, pulling him down for a kiss. Half awake Stephen had a relaxed quality to him that was absent during any other time. He let it continue for a while before shifting and lifting Stephen onto the desk. The sensation of Stephen's nails digging into his back was familiar enough that it grounded him.

Stephen broke the kiss to grasp his wrist. The one with the bracelet—Tony never took it off. "Call me. It won't matter where you are."

Tony wanted to ask him, then. He wanted to ask about what he knew was going to happen in Afghanistan. He wanted to tell him that he would stay if he would just ask, Pentagon be damned. But Tony had enough intelligence of the emotional kind that that would tear Stephen apart. He had accepted the recent revelations of Stephen's inhumanness (he may have hyperventilated a bit but it only confirmed what he suspected anyway); but he also became more aware of what Stephen was capable of. Stephen had nearly torn the fabric of the universe to shreds, once, and seemed willing to do so again.

It was flattering that someone would risk disaster for him. Tony probably should be disturbed, but he wasn't nearly healthy enough for that.

These thoughts flashed through his head in a second.

…And they flashed through his head again as he lay on desert sands, baking under Afghanistan sun. Many threads came together, then; theories were made into fact. His chest was on fire and being shredded into pieces but he had to laugh. It was broken and wheezing. Blood filled his mouth.

"Obadiah…you bastard." Tony kept laughing. The rat-tat-tat of his guns, his fucking guns, filled the air. Stephen had asked for him to call but Tony wouldn't call him into a war zone. The stone on the bracelet was near hot on his wrist.

Tony, somehow, remained conscious when some men picked him up and hustled him to a vehicle. Fear was prominent, then despair. He continued to laugh because how could this be his life? But he now knew there was more to this rock floating through space than he had thought; so, the fear drained away. The rage came.

How long? Tony wondered in a daze as the truck bumped along goat trails. Howard and Stane had been close friends. He had been more fatherly than Howard had. 

Had they even died by car crash?

And how dare he? His own fucking weapons? They shouldn't be anywhere near terrorist hands. Shit, Tony had fucked up—too high and out of his gourd to care about anything but himself.

Tony snapped awake midway during the surgery. The pain was beyond description. The stone on his wrist continued to burn. His fingers twitched and he choked. He couldn't think straight—it was too much.

His heart was going to stop. His heart was-

"It did." It sounded like a normal woman, but the dark cloak and exposed ribcage told him different.

Tony had, he'd thought, taken the knowledge of the supernatural well. This was just fucked up, though.

"Okay, no." Tony was still on the table with his chest open and surrounded by terrorists. They were moving, and there was shouting, but he and the cloaked skeleton existed in their own reality.

"No?" She sounded amused but Tony supposed he would be, too, if the situation were reversed.

"I'm not going into the light, so you can just go do whatever cosmological concepts do when they have time on their metaphysical hands. Steph never told me what that was so I'm going to assume it's backgammon or something."

"You humans and your humor. Are you not afraid?"

"Honestly? I'm fucking terrified, but frankly I'm more pissed than anything. And, you know, married to a reincarnated god. I'm going with the flow at this point."

"Hm." Death continued to watch him. "How interesting…you can comprehend me this time."

Tony scowled in confusion. A part of him wanted to look down—wanted to watch the surgery that may or may not save his life, but he wisely kept his gaze on Death. "This time?"

"You have been here, before, but you did not remember. It was beyond you. But it would seem things are changing even more than we had anticipated. Amusing. This has now become amusing."

"My chest is literally open-"

"Death and Time are closely linked—intertwined in a dance that spans past the creation of the universe. I've known your husband in millions of ways-"

"Are you an ex? Not sure how that worked you seem to be bony-"

"-but he refuses to make offerings. You, my dear, have given me souls in spades. I am a little disappointed, however."

"…Why?"

"You never truly questioned how you survived."

Chapter Text

Stephen was running off of caffeine, spite, and a fury he could not give word to. Still, he knew he was not mistaken when he felt the brush against his consciousness. It was one he knew with the intimacy that came from years and years of acquaintance.

There existed a dimension beside the physical one, beyond the Mirror, that operated as a waypoint to the place where Lady Death resided. It was neutral ground—accessed by the liminal spaces that gave regular humans a sense of unease even if they couldn't name the cause.

It took little for him to slip into it as his alarm clock switched to midnight. Death waited for him, appearing as a little girl this time. Her black hair glinted as she swayed back and forth on a single playground swing. Stephen stopped at her side and waited for her to speak.

She didn't keep him waiting long. "Hello, again, poppet."

"My Lady. Did you do something to your hair? Change your skincare regiment? You look…younger."

"This is what I've always liked about you, Saturn. Your humor even as you swim in blood." She dragged her feet on the sand to come to a stop. "Of course, you're still great fun, now. Goodness, you're the only being I've met so frequently."

"That wasn't intentional, I assure you," Stephen said.

Lady Death canted her head to the side. "So you have nothing to say?"

"What do you want me to say? You know."

"…Huh." Death tapped a finger on the metal links.

"Just…tell me how he is. I cannot reach him—the charm I laid isn't working as intended."

"Why should I?"

"What do you want?"

She laughed. "Even now, Saturn, you bargain. Always bargaining. Always maneuvering. Never laying down and-"

"Dying quietly and staying that way?"

"You are the one who keeps getting away, after all." She pouted, then her lips twisted into a grin not suited for the visage of a young child. "But don't fret. Your man is…something special."

"I wouldn't have married him otherwise."

"Love. Hm. But I don't mean in that way."

"I see."

The silence stretched before Stephen like an open road. His mind discarded ideas as soon as they bubbled to the surface. Death was placid—patient. She would not be moved just as he would not. What need was there to rush? But the thought of Tony…his hands clenched and he bit back the scream.

He inhaled. Exhaled. "Thank you for telling me."

"You two amuse me. That little planet of yours is quite something."

Stephen nodded and turned. "If you come across my father send my greetings."

"He spends too long navel-gazing so I doubt I will. Oh, by the way…"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you curious just how that charm of yours failed to work?"

Stephen froze.

"What you are doing is ill-advised." The Ancient One said. The initiates worked to channel eldritch magic in the courtyard below. Stephen stared at her. He hadn't slept properly since Tony left for Afghanistan.

"I promised him," Stephen said, voice hoarse.

"These sorts of magic are delicate. The medicine can all too easily become poison."

"He needs me."

"You run the risk of driving him mad-"

"Then he'll be in good company!" Stephen snapped. "And you have the gall to stand there as if you don't know why I'm doing this??"

Panic and loss made his chest constrict. His eyes burned. The masters begin to gather in his periphery—their magic buzzing at his senses like mosquitos. Oh, they hid well, but Stephen could feel. The pain he felt that the other Masters were there but were as good as strangers—that they were ready to fight against him. That hurt slightly less than what she had done.

"I know very well. Do you think I take pleasure in this?"

Stephen shook his head. "You blocked the spell while he was here in Kamar-Taj. You wiped his presence clean from our home! Now I have nothing!"

"You would have scried for him." Still calm; unrepentant. "You still might. I will return everything to as it was when we hear the good news."

Stephen's head throbbed. The initiates were staring and the masters were pressing closer. "I would not-"

"Stephen. You've already tried to stop it." The Ancient One said. "Do you not remember what happened?"

Of course he fucking did. The magical backlash had stunned him. It made him numb to the point he hadn't realized he'd stepped on broken glass. Yet that hadn't been nearly as devastating as the realization he could do nothing. The Ancient One continued, "Your mission is a great burden. It is a good thing The One Above All set up guardrails. Anyone would have been tempted; this is not a condemnation."

Stephen choked and pressed his hands to his face. He burned all over. A wall cracked and a large piece of stone fell onto the pathway. The masters shifted uneasily. "Let me have something." Begging. He was reduced to begging. "Just...something of his. Please." Her eyes met his and he saw the sympathy.

"You know I can't." 

The ground rumbled. So much had changed already and Stephen *didn't know*. He had no idea what sort of torture Tony was suffering nor his condition and what if he couldn't be healed? A crack in the floor. The Ancient One held up a hand, stalling the other masters. Minoru was mere feet away. He liked Minoru—she'd always been kind but that relationship had gone.

"You took him from me," he gasped.

"Oh Stephen."

The shame he felt that they were all witnessing his breakdown nearly eclipsed his despair. The Cloak squeezed him in a hug and  tried to tug him away. His magic crackled in response. His personal energies surged in ways he had never felt before. It thrummed under his skin and left the flavor of saffron on his tongue. The foundations of Kamar-Taj reacted to his own magic. He could yank it down—rip it all down and wasn't that terrifying? The Cloak hugged him once more, bringing him back to the present and grounding him.

The Ancient One stood like a stone in the midst of a raging river. She made no move to attack nor defend herself. Eventually, Stephen turned away.

"I think it would be better if I don't see you for a while. It's hard looking at you."

"Of course. I will be here as I always am."

Stephen's nod was a jerky, distracted thing as he left. All he could do was go home and face Sofia's disappointment. Before he could raise his hands to form the portal, a man slipped out from the shadows. Stephen froze at the sight of him—Kaecilius. He didn't know why he thought he'd never meet the man.

Kaecilius held up his hands as he approached, no doubt a witness to Stephen's earlier volatility. "I mean no harm. Unlike the others, I am not nearly so twitchy."

"What do you want?" Stephen asked. He had pitied the man in the end, and he had not yet done any crimes, if he ever will. He had been shocked to learn that Kaecilius' path lacked the fixed points of Tony's.

"I wanted to see you up close. You tend to be distant. The others don't know what to make of you."

Stephen sighed. "They think me dangerous."

"You are. But there are many dangerous things in this world and others that do no harm. No, you represent the thing many here fear the most." Kaecilius' words made him turn. He was relaxed, arms crossed but expression searching.

"A sense of humor?"

"Change."

Stephen said nothing but Kaecilius didn't seem bothered.

"I also wanted something else," he continued. "I wanted you to know that I understand. To experience a loss so acute that it is a wonder you can function."

Swallowing back bile, Stephen nodded. If nothing else, Kaecilius would know. At his agreement, Kaecilius pressed forward.

"It seems so senseless, doesn't it? If I understand correctly, she's preventing you from saving your...?"

"Um, husband," Stephen said, unsure how to proceed. "This was supposed to happen, but-"

"You could have saved him. Or, if not that, you could have watched over him; yet, she denies you even that. Sadly, I am not surprised." Kaecilius shook his head. "Such cruelty."

Stephen summoned the portal, then, disconcerted. "I…"

"You intrigue me. Regardless, something tells me Kamar-Taj, as it currently is, won't survive you. I think I like that." And he smiled.

"Stephen." Distracted, Stephen turned to watch Wong approach. If he was angry at Stephen's loss of control, he gave no indication. Wong's eyes flickered towards Kaecilius. "Am I interrupting?"

"Just a chat, Wong. After that display I had to be certain of some things."

"It is being handled."

"If you say." But Kaecilius nodded his head and left the way he came.

"I can probably fix the wall," Stephen muttered.

"You have no idea what you're doing, so we'll pass on that." Then Wong's harsh expression softened. He placed a hand on Stephen's back and guided him through the portal. "Come."

The smell of Zoe's cooking was enough to make his stomach grumble. When he was stressed he tended to go without food—he'd tried to hide it but apparently they noticed. He let Wong lead him to the couch and he all but collapsed on it. Christine had left a while ago for her shift. Unlike the girls she had little problem kicking his ass. She made sure he ate and slept and didn't throw himself dramatically out of the window. 

Sofia scrambled onto his lap and he grunted when her head collided with his torso.

"Stay on him, won't you?" Wong said as he headed to the kitchen. Zoe glanced up from stirring the jambalaya (her mother's recipe) with a smile.

"Hi, Mr. Wong. It's almost done."

"I can't stay long, unfortunately." He checked the kettle and with a bit of magic got the water boiling. 

"I'll send some back with you, then! Is Dr. Stephen all right?"

"No. He caused some property damage so if you could keep an eye on him I would appreciate it."

"I can hear you," Stephen grumbled.

"Good. You have people depending on you—get it together. Stark will be back and annoying all of us soon enough."

Stephen couldn't stop the smile from crossing his lips. Wong's brand of kindness had that effect. He considered his response when his phone ringing made him pause.

Stephen didn't answer the phone nowadays. Between the various federal agencies and media scenting blood in the water he was drained and short-tempered. He almost felt sorry for that CIA agent. Almost.

The only other people who would bother calling were Rhodey, who had been searching for Tony for the past three weeks, and Pepper. Pepper had been the one to relay the news—ensuring he didn't find out from some fucking television broadcast. Even though he'd known already, he appreciated it.

So it was with that thought he actually peeled himself off his couch to answer his cell. Sure enough, Pepper's name was displayed on the screen.

"Stephen! How are you?"

"Terrible. If we lived by a moor I'd be haunting it. You?"

She sighed. "Same. And it's about to get worse. I just got wind of a board meeting starting in an hour. I'm not sure but…anyway, I'm worried. I need you to meet me there." Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose. Why on earth need he be there?

"Pepper, I-"

"I know. I know. But, Stephen, Tony and I worked really hard to get certain things in place and that has repercussions on Stark Industries."

"What are you saying?" Stephen whispered.

"I think they're trying to take advantage of the situation," she said hurriedly. "Some members really don't like Tony and chafed at the direction he was going these past few months. They are also the ones with seniority."

Stephen never studied business management but he could read between the lines. "Tony was also acting as CEO. Who is in charge?"

"I think you know. And I want to think the best of Obadiah but he's set in his ways."

"They don't even have a fucking body! How dare-" Stephen tugged at his hair in agitation. "Since you're calling me, I gotta ask. What did Tony put into his will?"

"He wanted you protected, and he did that."

Fuck. Fucking asshole. How dare that moron make Stephen fall in love and then get kidnapped? Dumbass. Fine. This he could do. "Send me the relevant documents if you please. I'll meet you there. I need to get ready."

"If you step forward, everyone will know you're married."

"Good. Little point in marrying a genius billionaire if I can't brag about it."

Tony had worked himself to the bone and no one, not even his goddamn godfather was going to trample over that. Not while Stephen still breathed. 

"I need to head to SI. There's been a situation. Jackie, could you call Happy to bring the car? No, darling, you can't come with me." Sofia scowled and shook her head. "No, you're staying here." He sighed when she pounded the couch cushions in a rare display of temper. Stephen had to pluck her up into a hug before she got going. Sofia squeezed him tight.

"No, dear, that's enough of that. I'm coming back. I promise. You don't like Tony's company, do you?" He took a deep breath. "But I need to go. I need to do this for him. And sitting here won't get me any answers."

Sofia huffed but let Jackie pull her away.

Stephen rushed through his shower and threw on one of his nicer suits. He was still buttoning his shirt as he entered their makeshift office. Tony's laptop sat underneath a sheaf of papers. Tony, of course, had developed his own OS and filled it with enough traps and pitfalls that a programming expert would tear up from awe and despair. If Stephen didn't have his excellent memory he'd have been fucked. As it was, Tony had only needed to show him once and it only took a moment to access the private server. He pulled up what Pepper sent. He scanned the documents for several minutes. Contract law was not his forte but he could get by. As they printed, he snapped his fingers and Cloak formed itself into a tie and twisted itself into a Windsor knot.

"Thank you for everything," Stephen said. It gave a small wave.

The New York Headquarters wasn't much to write home about, architecturally speaking. It did have a unique sort of brutalism, however, that fit a man who claimed that Stark men were made of iron. It used to be where Howard Stark had operated, relatively close to the complex in DC where the company's main customers were located. The ground floor sprawled before him in renovated 50s corporate-chic. Pepper smiled at him in greeting. She waved him past reception and led him to the employees entrance. She looked good—a little worn, but lovely as always.

"Stephen. I'm so glad to see you."

"It's good to see you. Shall we?"

"Yes. Maybe I'm overreacting, but after these past few months I'm not so sure." She swiped her card to activate the elevator. They stepped on and she pressed the button for the top most floor.

"Hm. I'm beginning to think my darling husband hasn't been all that forthcoming."

"He didn't want to worry you."

"He didn't want me to eviscerate someone. I don't know why—it wouldn't have been fatal."

"That, too. You can be pretty intense."

"You haven't seen intense, Ms. Potts." The elevator dinged and the doors opened. "But you're about to."

The board room was out of a black and white movie, complete with a group of old, white men. The curved oak desk took up much of the room and bordered on ostentatious. The middle was raised slightly and framed by large windows that looked out over Central Park in the distance. Stephen grit his teeth when he saw Obadiah Stane sitting in what should have been Tony's seat.

Stephen was disappointed that the door was too heavy to throw open, but he settled for the look of surprise on their faces. Obadiah froze, then all but leapt from his seat.

"Stephen, my boy! I'm surprised to see you here! Are you all right? You haven't been taking my calls."

"Who is this, Obadiah?" Asked the man immediately to his left. Stephen hated him on sight.

"Before we get into that I'm curious as to what you think you're doing, Mr. Stane," Stephen and Pepper made their way to the front of the room.

Obadiah's eyes narrowed. "What happened was…I have no words. But the company needs to keep running, Stephen. We have employees to take care of."

"Agreed. But you didn't answer my question. You are an esteemed member of the board and President of the Weapons Division, but not owner, Chairman, nor CEO. That would be Anthony Edward Stark."

"In normal circumstances, yes; however, company bylaws state-"

"I am aware. Article 3, Section 2, Subsection 1, Paragraph 7. In the absence of a Chief Executive Officer and the owner-slash-chairman is incapable of fulfilling the duty, the board has the right to make an emergency appointment. But you jumped the gun a bit."

"Did you seriously memorize all that?"

"Mr. Stane, I only received the documents an hour ago so that would be silly. I memorized a quarter. Stark Industries is quite large and in possession of a great deal of assets. I'll finish it by the end of business day. Since I am on leave from the hospital I have all the time in the world." Stephen smiled at him and stopped just opposite of him—the red leather chair between them. Hotrod red. Figures.

"Then I'm not sure I see the problem. The board has elected me due to the extenuating circumstances and my length of tenure at the company," Obadiah snapped.

"Tony's missing, not dead. The board, and they seem to be such fine people," Stephen ignored Pepper's side-eye, "cannot summarily elect a new Chairman and CEO unless three months have passed or confirmation of death has occurred. Whichever comes first. The Presidents will handle the day-to-day operations until then. Ms. Potts is doing wonderfully at her new post in LA."

"Thank you," she said.

Stephen continued, "And I applaud your sense of duty, Mr. Stane, but I think we should follow everything down to the letter so we don't run into any trouble."

"That is just—hold on. Why am I even explaining myself to you?" Obadiah leaned forward. "Look, I understand you are in distress so I won't call security, but I think you should leave."

One of the members stood, eyes watching them in concern. "Wait a moment, I recognize you. You're Tony's…person." Good god they couldn't even say it.

"You know what? I've been rude. I humbly apologize." Stephen ignored Pepper's obvious disbelief. "Howard Stark, when he founded this company, had strict ideas on who could be owner and chairman. The CEO can effectively be anyone, but he made ownership rules quite ironclad."

"I was there, Stephen. I am well aware. Only a Stark can own the company, be it by blood, adoption, or-" Obadiah froze. His face went slack.

"Obadiah? What's wrong?" The man on the other side of him asked.

"Nothing's wrong. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange and I'm currently owner and chairman of Stark Industries until such a time my husband is found and returned to us."

The board room exploded.

Stephen calmly directed the still stunned Obadiah to the side and took his chair. On second thought, he liked the red.

"I realize this is a turbulent time but if we can all have a seat I would like to have this smoothed out before the end of today."

"You are what??" Obadiah roared, effectively silencing the room.

"Married. As of September 22rd, last year. I have never been so in-love." Stephen canted his head to the side. "I'm sorry to surprise you like this—we wanted to tell you—but, well, here we are."

"Do you mean to tell me Tony Stark married a man?" Hissed a particularly aged board member.

"I literally just said that."

"This can't be legal-"

"It is. Everything that is his is mine. His properties, his cars, his bank accounts, his robots, his patents, his peculiar circuit board collection, his vintage Playboys, his stash of candy and cigars he thinks that I don't know about. But more importantly, I also own the shares in his company. 

Judging from the looks on your faces I'll cut to the chase. This can go two ways. We can sit down and ensure that Stark Industries continues to run smoothly. You'll find me to be mostly reasonable. Or, you can try litigate the issue. To be frank you are more than welcome to try it—a part of me wishes you would. I'd win and the company would continue to operate in the way Tony wished until it's all sorted out years down the line. And we will be back to square one…except then I'll be fucking pissed off."

Two-thirds of the members looked uneasy, but a select few appeared furious. Stephen made note of them as he arranged his papers.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Obadiah growled. "But I would like to verify some things."

"I was there, Mr. Stane," Pepper said. "I signed as witness." Obadiah's nostrils flared and the red in his face deepened.

"It's fine, Ms. Potts. I am an unknown and it would be best to ease their minds. Cambridge, Massachusetts; Justice Olivia Castellanos-Ortega officiated. I can show you the certificate and wedding album later. We were very informal, but Tony looked dashing in his old M.I.T hoodie. Now." Stephen leaned his elbows on the desk. "Why, exactly, are you hellbent on undoing Tony Stark's hard work?"

Three hours of arguing and posturing followed, with a hint of homophobia to round things off. It became clear to the board, fast, that he had no patience for them in general, and whatever latitude Tony gave them in the past did not carry over. He definitely angered a good chunk of them. Which, fine. He wasn't fucking them and if it made Tony look good all the better. Pepper was a godsend, whispering advice and clarifying dense, corporate America jargon.

"Tony's wishes are not being ignored, Stephen! We are in a tenuous position and at this point it is imperative we don't rock the boat until the storm has passed. Restructuring is too dangerous at this point in time. How many times must I tell you?" Obadiah groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Your actions do not match your words, Mr. Stane. You act as if I'm asking you to solve world hunger. Tony and Ms. Potts busted their asses for months so that all the department heads need do is follow directions. Tony even added an SOP to make the perfect espresso. I can only assume the lack of sleep had kicked in at that point."

"We need to stick to what we know we can deliver."

"We need to stop diverting resources. They were assigned to growing and developing our consumer tech division, not to pad the already bloated weapons budget," Stephen retorted.

"Obadiah, with all due respect if we go ahead with those projections you submitted earlier you are going to make my life far more difficult," Pepper added, voice growing sharp.

"I get it, Pepper, but we are a weapons manufacturer! There can never be enough budget!" Obadiah objected.

Stephen leaned back in his (Tony's) chair. He considered the man in front of him—the members still clinging to the past. When Tony returned from Afghanistan, in the original timeline, his decision had been met with scorn and anger. Any sympathy Tony had gotten had soon become twisted into derision. There had been fury that Tony Stark stopped making weapons when soldiers had died protecting him—disdain at his supposed cowardice. They didn't care that he suffered who knows what while in the hands of terrorists; nor did it matter that Tony Stark had been designing weapons since he was in the single digits. When the man had finally erected a boundary they eviscerated him. They lambasted him for stopping his weapons manufacturing and then made sly comments blaming him for when said weapons were used for their intended purpose or fell into the wrong hands. There was no winning. Stephen made up his mind.

"I believe I see the issue. Very well. As of right now I am suspending operations in our weapons division-"

"Jesus fucking Christ-" Obadiah groaned.

"We will complete our current contractual obligations and freeze operations in the meantime. We will accept no new contracts. I am done."

"Stephen, what on earth?" Pepper began as that had not been part of the plan. He'd have to apologize later.

"No, I'm done. The United States military had one job that day and that was to get Tony Stark from point A, to point B, and back again. Instead, soldiers were killed and the man who designs the military's weapons vanishes without a single, fucking trace. I don't know why none of you aren't more pissed that your buddies at the Pentagon lost the person who was making you all a shit ton of money!." That shut them up. Several looked uncomfortable but Stephen bulldozed ahead. "If someone fucked up half this bad at the hospital they'd be gone. I get that if you had to choose between Tony's well-being and your stock portfolio you would shove him under the bus and reverse over his body for good measure; but how about we pretend you actually care about him as a human being??"

"That is enough, young man!" Donovan, Stephen recalled. "We've known Tony far longer than you have, how dare-"

"Then why am I the only one on the board fighting for what he believed in?? Why? You're right—objectively I only met him last year so what does that tell you?"

Donovan exhaled sharply. They stared at each other before the older man finally nodded.

Bingo.

"You do know the DOD is going to be on your ass," Donovan said.

"Then it's a good thing you got a CEO who's used to that." Someone snorted, creating a chain reaction of snickers and guffaws. "I've never shied away from a conflict in my life. You get a call? Feel free to forward it to me. At this point I'm sure you can agree that I will handle it."

"We can all agree you're a bi-," Davids started, only to be stopped by Donovan. He was the youngest by far—early 40s.

Stephen smirked. "Mr. Davids, flattery will get you nowhere and I'm still married. Now. I'll draft a memo for immediate release tomorrow. With this sort of decision we need to be on top of the media narrative from the get-go."

Donovan looked intrigued. He said, "You seem to have a plan."

"I usually do." Emphasis on the usually. It was his impulse control and risk assessment that needed work. "We reaffirm our commitment to the protection and support of our nation's troops and veterans, but highlight the fact that the War in Iraq and Afghanistan are becoming increasingly unpopular with the American people. Cite the lack of direction, war crimes, the financial and human costs. We will state our concerns that Stark Industries' weapons, which have always been at the forefront of modern warfare, are being used indiscriminately. Once that foundation is built, we tie that in to Tony's disappearance while in military care. Tony Stark is still the face of SI—we make sure the public knows the company is capable of carrying on without him (for the sake of our stocks), but that needs to be finely balanced with the fact that he is at the center of SI's mission and is greatly missed."

"So we turn him into a martyr..." Hodgkins, the only woman present besides Pepper, murmured.

Stephen nodded. "Indeed. We let that marinate for a week or two. 

If Tony is still missing, we launch a media campaign highlighting Howard Stark's contributions to fighting Nazis and SI's pride in its pursuit of world peace. Then we dovetail neatly into our new line of body armor and technologies to assist in evacuation and search and rescue. Again, throughout this entire campaign we emphasize our sorrow for Tony's disappearance and continue our pleas for his safe return. We reiterate that we are fulfilling the last known wishes of Tony Stark and completely ignore any questions regarding weapons manufacturing. I mean it. We say nothing about it."

"…Huh." Donovan and the other board members glance at each other. Walters and McNair were nodding thoughtfully. Chance, Smith, and Greene had mellowed drastically in the span of ten minutes. Obadiah, canny enough to feel the shift in the room, only nodded.

"If we move just right this will be nothing but a blip. I'll return in a week with our initial results to see if we need to make any adjustments. Now, why don't we adjourn?"

Obadiah and a few members stalked out, but the others lingered a bit. Stephen ignored them—he'd speak to them later when he wasn't so irritated.

"Doctor Strange." At least that was his plan until Donovan called him. He was the last in the room, standing by the doorway.

"Donovan," Stephen acknowledged.

"I can see it."

Pepper and Stephen glanced at each other before he asked, "Pardon?"

"Why Tony married your ornery ass. I'm not surprised about the whole man thing—should've seen him in the early 90s."

"I can only imagine."

Donovan shrugged. "Mostly just surprised that he actually got married; and to someone who's willing to antagonize a lot of people to ensure his wishes are honored. I'm glad, to be honest with you—you got guts."

"Thank you," Stephen murmured. And he meant it.

"A couple others don't believe it, but I know Tony Stark has a lot more to give this world. Keep the faith, kid." Donovan paused. "Hey, it's none of my business, but while I got you here I gotta ask: how does it even work between you two?"

"Oh, that's easy. We all know heterosexual relationships are the baseline, so Tony's the husband, I'm the wife."

Pepper choked while Donovan sent him a flat look. "You're fucking with me."

"Yep."

"Fair enough. See ya around, Mrs. Stark."

Stephen chuckled. "See ya around, Donovan."

Pepper glared at him but the smile gracing her lips ruined the effect. "You didn't tell me about weapons division."

"I pulled that out of my ass, to be honest. Then I ran with it."

"…God I can't believe there are two of you."

"On the contrary, Tony actually plans things down to the last detail—his lack of seriousness makes it look as if he doesn't. Me? I'm probably going to be a nightmare. Now there's one more thing. Can you show me to Tony's office?"

Pepper nodded. "No problem. He doesn't really use it."

"I know, I just need his computer. This one is actually connected to servers that can support a friend of ours."

"Oh!" Pepper said.

Computers were not his thing but he managed to pry open the case easily enough. He pulled a fat drive out of its protective case and pushed it into an open slot. Despite the cramped space he was able to attach the drive to a small series of cables he recognized weren't standard.

"Who knew my skills as a surgeon would come into play," Stephen noted. He released a breath when the familiar screen of Tony's private OS came up but a second later after the press of the power button. He opened the command line and typed in the series of code Tony had shown him a mere few days before he left. Thank fuck he had.

"Jarvis?" Stephen asked after he pressed enter and it began compiling. The familiar voice answered a moment later.

"Doctor Strange! I see you were able to get me up and running just as Sir and I knew you would."

"Oh it's good to hear from you," Pepper sighed.

"And you, Ms. Potts. Although I do believe there has been a change in our chosen location? I am currently on Stark Industries' servers?"

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut. "Jarvis, I must apologize. With everything that's been going on you haven't been informed. Tony never got a chance to…he's been kidnapped while in Afghanistan and has yet to be found."

"Oh dear," Jarvis said. "You must be beside yourself, Doctor. Of course you need to look after yourself. Judging from Sir's itinerary, it's been—three weeks?"

"Three very long weeks." They watched as Jarvis began to pull up article after article, video clip after video clip of Tony Stark's disappearance. Even now the media machine was churning out content.

"You have a plan?" Jarvis said once he had finished.

"Yes. Until Tony's found I'm in charge and I mean to have Stark Industries so spotless he could metaphorically eat off of it."

"I'm not sure that analogy holds up," commented Pepper. Stephen shrugged.

"We need your help. Tony has been planning for you to integrate into SI to assist in daily operations anyway."

"Indeed, as Sir plans to head the R&D department personally," said Jarvis.

"You can probably see the problem. Pepper's up to her eyeballs in work and I have never taken a business class in my life. I'm a neurosurgeon, not a CEO."

"Sir would appreciate the Star Trek reference."

Stephen laughed—if he could hug Jarvis he would have. "I'm smart, but I need help running something this big. Care to give me a hand?"

"It will be my pleasure. Let us make Stark Industries clean enough to eat off of."

Chapter Text

Stephen hummed, sometimes, while in thought. Tony didn't know if he even realized it or not. He wasn't terrible—wasn't all that great either. But, Tony could listen to it for the rest of his days because he was that pathetic, apparently. He watched white clouds drift by in a sky with bright sun and clear blue. Another day of perfect Malibu weather. Days off were rare, so much so he could have sworn he was...supposed to be somewhere. He heard the sheets rustling seconds before Stephen leaned over him.

"Hey," Tony whispered.

"Hey," Stephen replied, eyes soft and the same shade as the sky outside their window.

"When'd we get to Malibu?"

"This is where you feel safe—where you opened your heart to me completely."

"And you opened a few things for me in return."

Stephen laughed, slanting his body across Tony's chest. Tony wrapped a firm arm around his waist. Stephen didn't complain at the tight grip.

"When it becomes too much, I will wait for you here," Stephen spoke once more. "Even when it feels hopeless."

Tony's brow furrowed at the words. Above him, the ceiling flickered. His heartbeat picked up at the sight of...was that rock? The sky outside had turned dark. A sharp pain in his chest made his breath catch. He swallowed back a groan as his heart seemed to shred in his chest. What the fuck? What was happening? 

Stephen's hands cupped his face. Tony wanted to touch him but his body felt like lead.

"We'll be together again, soon."

His eyes snapped open.

Stephen had come to loathe Tony's office in the New York Headquarters. It didn't take much to realize why Tony himself spent little time here. Howard Stark seemed to breathe from its walls. Threads of anger and frustration and delight and despair had left impressions from its walls and from the very desk he sat at, no doubt the result of long nights and fraught conversations that came with being the owner and CEO of a large company. Even after opening the blinds and clearing out the worst of the energy he still felt it. Howard Stark was a complicated man. Stephen couldn't say he would have liked him at all.

The ringing of the phone interrupted his musings. With a deep sigh (it was only 9:30 in the fucking morning), he plucked it from its cradle.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Strange? General Ross at the Pentagon is on the line. He says it's urgent. What would you like for me to do?" The secretary was a nice enough woman and Stephen had little wish to make her life harder due to his choices.

"Put him through, thank you." He waited for the line to click over before saying, "General Ross, I understand there is some sort of emergency?"

"Look, Stark-"

"I prefer Dr. Strange. I had to change my name to Stark for legal reasons but I would prefer to be known by my career name."

"I don't care what you call yourself, what you need to do is restart the weapons program!"

"No. Is there anything else I can actually help you with?"

"What do you mean, 'no'??"

Stephen raised an eyebrow even though the effect was lost on the man. "I mean exactly what it sounds. Perhaps if my husband wasn't misplaced we wouldn't be in this situation; but he was. And now we're here. Do you happen to have any further leads on Tony's recovery? At this point, he's your best chance for getting what you want."

"Men and women are going to die-"

"It's war, General. You know better than most that it never changes. Or are you saying that the quality of the United States military is more dependent on machinery than its personnel? Considering how Tony went missing to begin with you can take a guess as to what I'm leaning towards. And I say that with the upmost respect to those who lost their lives in the attack."

The sound General Ross's grinding teeth was broken by a solid knock to his door followed by Obadiah entering the office without permission. Stephen barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling. It had been a week and he was already done with the job. Tony's slacking off was making more sense by the hour.

"Every single man and woman in uniform who loses their life is on your head, Strange. I hope you think about that when you go to sleep tonight."

That was just— "No, General. That would be on your leadership and that of your peers, as well as Congress. I'm sure you also don't want my thoughts on recruitment offices being suspiciously concentrated in poorer communities, but we are both busy men. Find my husband or don't bother clogging up my phone line." Stephen barely stopped himself from slamming the handle down into its cradle. Obadiah had helped himself to some of Tony's old stash that still lined the liquor cabinet. Stephen regarded the man with a half-lidded glare.

"Good morning."

"Doesn't sound like you're having a good one from where I'm sitting," commented the older man.

"I had to spend half an hour with our representative in Israel who was choking back literal tears. It seems to be a skill of mine. What can I help you with?"

"I just came to see how things were holding up. I wanted to lend an ear or some advice if you need it." Obadiah smiled and spread his hands in a welcoming gesture.

"I'm doing well. It's a good thing I have you here, actually. As I've closed the Weapons division it has come to my attention that there are a multitude of redundant processes." Stephen turned to the computer and tapped a few keys to bring up JARVIS's initial report.

Obadiah jerked in surprise. "Oh? Well, guess things got a little bloated over the years."

"Hm. That is my initial thought. But given that some things exceed the margin of error, and that we need all hands on deck for a smooth transition into the tech industry, I was thinking about conducting an audit."

"…Huh." Obadiah stood and tapped his chin. As he paced Stephen scanned through the findings even though he'd long memorized them. Tony had been looking into that subsidiary, but some things were still missing. That could be explained away by the expansion of both the company and the amount of money going in and out each day.

"I still have a lot of things to wrap up regarding the approval of construction on Stark Tower, so if you could have your people start prepping I would appreciate it."

"I dunno, Stephen. They're already sore about their livelihoods being shut down without warning or care."

"I understand that." Stephen answered. He was momentarily distracted by Stane moving in his peripheral but resumed his typing. "And HR is handling it. From what I've seen the severance package for those that opted out of transferring is very generous. But I plan on running a tight ship and that audit will be completed before the end of quarter." Stephen twisted in his chair to face Tony's godfather, who was holding one of Howard's awards in his grip. It was an ugly, heavy thing made of thick crystal and jagged edges. At first glance he appeared to be reading it but his eyes were unfocused.

"You also seem to forget that I have spent long years helping this company grow."

"I haven't. You still have a place here, but I'm not budging."

Obadiah sighed long and deep. "Ah, I must seem like an old man to you, but some things can only come with time. Ah, well. Stephen, I'm sure you won't mind if I take a few weeks off? This is a lot and I need to get my head on straight."

The heavy crystal landed on the display with a resounding thud.

Shiro, despite the blood, sweat, and tears he had poured into his English study, had actually never stepped foot on American soil. His contact had sounded…well, brusque on the the phone, but not in a way that signaled danger. If it did, he could take care of himself, of course, but his main worry was having to do so when there were people around.

His passport hung from sweaty fingers and he attempted to settle his breathing in the chaos of JFK. She had said she would be hard to miss, but Shiro, long used to the bustle of Tokyo, knew the likelihood of that. He checked his watch once more, noting with some anxiety that he was three minutes late from the appointed time, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"Knew I'd find you here." The woman brusquely snatched his knapsack and swung her bright, red hair over her shoulder.

"M-Miss Bloodstone."

"That would be me." The slight lilt of an English accent gave her voice a softness that did not match the rest of her. Shiro had been practicing his family's martial art since he could walk—he knew a fighter when he saw one. "Was surprised to get your call; well, maybe not with all that nasty kidnapping business." Shiro followed her as she shoved her way through the crowds. He gave up apologizing after three minutes.

"I'm actually a little early, but Mr. Stark trusted me with this and…it looks bad."

"Because it is, kid. It really is. But I owe Stark a favor," Elsa said as she tapped her guitar case.

"Do you think it will work? This team of his?"

"Listen, I've lived through the other way. My father was a real piece of work whose idea of training was leaving his kids to wrestle with monsters twice their size with a dagger and a 'give 'em hell' attitude. Honestly? It's worth a shot. But there's something you all need to do for me."

Shiro grimaced. "Um, Miss Bloodstone, I don't know if you're aware of my-"

"Relax, I got you covered." She whipped around to face him, eyes gleaming. "We need to make a trip to Boston."

"To…Boston? Why?"

"I need to get something—something important that will be a great help to this little mission of ours. It belonged to my father, but he's an arse, so it won't be easy to get."

Shiro felt a cold sweat bead on his forehead. He wasn't certain this was what Mr. Stark meant. "Miss, eh, Bloodstone-"

"This is non-negotiable, so best relax."

"I am regretting every choice I have ever made."

Victor snarled as he stuffed his feet into well-worn boots. His fathers old boots just like his father's old jacket that went around his shoulders and he threw open the door to his father's old house. Eugene's passing had been less of a shock than Ma's—she had just collapsed in the kitchen while basting the turkey for Thanksgiving. Pa's had been much harder—long and drawn out and Victor had spent half his time driving to and from Lincoln. He'd gotten his husbandry degree by the skin of teeth.

The night air slapped him in the face as he headed towards the barn. Something must have gotten in judging from the whining of the horses. It had been one thing after another lately. And of course, Victor had to handle it all by himself.

Just as he suspected, the barn door was cracked open. Victor sighed, probably another coon trying to get in the feed, and hefted his flashlight higher. He groped for the light switch and clicked it on.

Victor thought he screamed—maybe he did. The tattered coat swamped an emaciated figure with blood red eyes and lips glistening red like a desperate whore. The stringy hair hung about his face and his skin was just as thin—papery parchment and on the cusp of tearing.

Victor could do little but stare at the prone form of his favorite horse when he found himself on his back and staring into blood eyes. The fangs glinted.

"Thank your brother for your misfortune," the thing hissed.

Well, that didn't surprise him at all.

They hadn't had much chance to enjoy his private beach. He and Stephen led busy lives and then he began moving to New York. He didn't regret it—that was where Stephen had to be, after all. But now as he watched Stephen stand ankle deep in the surf, facing the sun, Tony wished he'd made more of an effort to get them out here. Away from the world.

"When I get the chance, I'm bringing you here." Tony smiled when Stephen looked at him from over his shoulder.

"You will," Stephen said.

"Why don't I remember this when I wake up?" Tony asked. He sighed in frustration and fell back against the blanket. "I want to have this when I wake up."

"I was informed that there was a large risk that your mind could not take the strain." Stephen ducked his head. "I should apologize to her."

"You? Apologizing?"

"I know how to apologize, douchebag."

They dissolved into snickers. Tony would probably never be able to swim again, but he enjoyed watching Stephen. The breeze carried the scent of seawater—so different than reality. Stephen came back to shore after a while and walked up to where Tony was sunbathing.

"I feel so much better here. It doesn't hurt. It's kinda addicting," Tony admitted.

"Hence the whole 'madness' thing."

"We're all mad here," Tony quoted. He reached up to pull Stephen down next to him. "I'm tired, carinyo."

"You're being so strong, and I'm proud. You'll be able to rest soon. Your friends and I will handle everything." Stephen tugged at his hair.

"I'm coming back," Tony promised. "I'm coming back."

Tony held the taste of salt on his tongue when he woke.

The sight of his company's name mocked him as he staggered through the camp. Missiles, assorted explosives, ammunition—the dozens of men holding his guns. One part of his mind listed every model and type as he walked. Every step, every breath sent stabs of agony through his chest. He had no idea how he was walking. The car battery felt like dead weight rather than a life line.

Stephen would be horrified at the sight of him. God, Tony had no idea how long he'd been underground. Were Stephen and the girls being taken care of?

"He wants to know what you think." The doctor who saved his life murmured. He was no-nonsense in a way that reminded Tony of his husband.

"I think you got a lot of my weapons," Tony eventually replied. The bearded man continued to talk but Tony found himself drifting. And that conversation with Death…had that been an hallucination?

"-have everything you need to make the Jericho missile," the doctor translated. "He wants you to make a list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately and when you're done he will set you free."

His body and mind were screaming but he somehow remained calm enough to shake the terrorists hand with a smile.

"No, he won't."

The doctor smiled as well. "No, he won't."

The darkness of the cave pressed in on him. They had escorted him back to his cell and he spent the rest of the day in silence. He thought of his life up until now. Nearly four decades and what did he have to show for it?

The most famous mass murderer in the history of America.

"I'm sure they are looking for you, Stark. But they will never find you in these mountains." The doctor joined him by the fire. "What you just saw? That is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out?"

All these years believing that deterrence was the answer. No, who was he even trying to fool at this point? He'd encouraged his clients to find an excuse to use his creations. He'd long accepted that loss of life was going to happen, but they were the cracked eggs to make an omelet. He hadn't cared about the collateral damage. A multi-million dollar weapons manufacturer didn't become a multi-billion international one by playing nice or strictly ethical.

*Fuck*. Those poor kids got torn apart by his fucking guns. He had failed so thoroughly he'd be impressed if not for the literal hole in his chest.

"Are you going to do something about it-??" The doctor was still going.

"Oh, I plan to." The chill of the cave seemed to have sunk into his bones. "Every person who had a hand in this travesty is going to face the consequences, one way or another." While he was sitting here Obadiah was free to do who knows what. None of his family had a clue—Tony had been in denial right up until his insides were shredded with shrapnel from his own creation.

Tony continued, "Besides, if nothing else I'll be dead within the week the way things are going."

The doctor huffed. "Well then, this is a very important week for you isn't it?"

The words settled in the air between them. Tony, for the first time in...he didn't know, smiled. "Why is it that every doctor I know is mean?"

The man shrugged. "You should have more faith in yourself, anyway. It's unheard of for you to be in your condition so soon."

"Hm?"

"Mr. Stark, even under the best, and sterile, conditions, it takes 6 to 8 weeks to recover from open heart surgery. We are at around week three if I had to guess. I'd have pegged you dead from infection alone if nothing else."

"…Huh." Death's words echoed in his mind.

The following days were a flurry of activity. He pushed himself and his new assistant during his waking hours and only allowed himself fitful rest while the other man slept. He had to get home. He couldn't let himself go out like this. And he couldn't die without seeing Stephen again. Without holding him close or looking into his eyes; without listening to him and Jarvis banter or watching him sleep.

"Who are these people?" Tony asked.

"Your loyal customers! The Ten Rings."

He really needed to meet some nicer doctors holy shit. Well, first things first. Tony nodded at the palladium they had gathered. He had a heart to slap a bandaid on.

Tony turned to the other man. "Hey, what do I call you?"

"My name is Yinsen."

"Yinsen. Nice to meet you."

Finally, a genuine grin. "Nice to meet you, too."

And time continued to crawl across the tapestry of reality.

The dream faded away when Tony blinked open his eyes. A sense of loss followed him closely these days. The miniature arc reactor glowed softly in the lowlight. Yinsen was reading peacefully on his cot across from him.

"Hey, where are you from?" Tony asked.

"Mm, a small town called Gulmira. It's a nice place." Yinsen turned a page in the ragged book.

"Must be, since you're a real peach."

Yinsen chuckled. "Yes, well, I have a bit of an issue with my current accommodations."

"Understandable. Terrible lighting-"

"No towels-"

"The toilet is a literal hole."

"I think I saw some sort of small creature a few minutes ago."

"Perfect. A snack for later."

Yinsen's scoff made Tony grin. He lowered his book to look at Tony properly. "You were talking in your sleep."

"Hope it wasn't x-rated."

"It sounded like," Yinsen frowned in thought. "Stefan?"

Tony chuckled but didn't feel a smidgeon of humor. "You got a family, Yinsen?"

"Yes. And I will see them when I leave here." Yinsen groaned when he shifted on the threadbare cot. Tony could relate—his back was almost as troublesome as his chest. "You?"

"...Husband. We met last year at a party. The funny thing is neither of us was supposed to be there. His boss had made him go last minute and I was tipsy when I decided to swing by and throw some cash at some hospitals. My good deed for the quarter, you could say."

"You are a magnanimous man."

"I truly am. Anyway, Stephen was in this incredible suit, so I had to approach him. We only exchanged a few sentences but I could tell he was so fucking smart. His *brain*, Yinsen. I could just-"

"Please control yourself, Stark."

"I am the epitome of control. At the time I thought it was only going to be a short affair. I had no reason to believe otherwise knowing my history. It was stupid of me; looking back I was gone two weeks in. And I fell deeper and deeper and it seemed silly to wait, so we tied the knot in September. Now we've got a little girl and two big ones and I never thought I would have that."

"Kids do change everything, don't they?" Yinsen then looked thoughtful. "This Stephen—you must love him deeply."

Tony considered the statement. "A part of me is worried what I'd do for him."

"Then you had best be more careful."

"He hated what I was doing—hated that I was going to Afghanistan to show off another fucking missile. When we get out of here he is going to beat my ass."

"I hope he does."

"Wow. I thought we were having a moment. Oh, wait. He's a famous doctor maybe you know him? Stephen Strange?"

"Doctor Strange?" Yinsen sat up straighter to look at Tony properly. "He's the top of his field, of course I know of him. We haven't had the pleasure of meeting, but his hands are phenomenal."

"Oh that they are."

"Ha!" It was the first real laugh he'd gotten out of the man. "I am surprised to hear that he has married. While his surgical ability is astounding I have heard that he can be a little…acerbic."

"He's an asshole. But I love him. You two would get on like a house on fire. He's going to want to meet the man skilled enough to keep me alive."

Yinsen smiled. "I look forward to it."

"Great. Maybe you can keep me alive a little longer once he realizes the state I'm in."

"I'm not a miracle worker, Stark. But you'll see him again. I know it."

Tony settled back on his bed. It was almost time. 

"Doctor Strange! Doctor Strange! Christine Everhart with Vanity Fair. May I ask you a few questions?"

"I've got a few minutes, Ms. Everhart. I saw your recent report on LA's unhoused population. I quite liked it," Stephen said.

"Thank you, Dr. Strange. You're a difficult man to get a hold of."

"I've been quite busy. When the news of Tony's disappearance first broke out I was inconsolable. But my husband wouldn't want me to grieve in the dark so I picked myself up and got to work. It's been difficult, however."

"On several fronts, if you don't mind my saying. Let's start with business. You are one of the top neurosurgeons in the world, that is indisputable, but many are wondering if any of those abilities carry over into the corporate realm."

"Well, I'm quite used to long hours, high-stress environments, and ordering people around. But let me make it clear that the employees of Stark Industries, as well as its illustrious board, have been so helpful during this transition. I'm quite pleased with how we've been able to pull together and ensure Tony's last efforts are fulfilled. When he returns he will find his company in good hands."

"You believe he will return."

"My husband has come back from every single kidnapping attempt before and he will do so again. He's Tony Stark."

"Hm. There has been some chatter surrounding your shutting down the weapons division of Stark Industries."

"My focus, Ms. Everhart, is seeing that Tony's wishes are followed. This means accelerating research and development and focusing our efforts on keeping our soldiers safe with high tech armor and assistive equipment."

"I see. You must be aware that the Department of Defense is in an uproar. Dr. Strange, there are worries that this will be permanent."

"I believe in being transparent when possible so I will say that more weapons are not my priority. I stand firmly by what I have said. Rather, I would urge them to have some sympathy. The support for the War in Afghanistan is at an all time low. Many Americans, myself included, are resistant to sending even more soldiers to be harmed and killed. I am doing what I can to ensure they are protected so that they can once more see their families and loved ones when they finish their tours. Stark Industries has worked together with the Pentagon for decades so I am hopeful we can reach a resolution."

"This is a stark, if you'll excuse the pun, contrast to the company's previous stance on conflict."

"At least it's not my name this time. Look, many of my patients have been soldiers. Do you have any idea how many veterans I have had to treat in the past year? Lost limbs, paralysis of various kinds, brain damage—it is horrific, Ms. Everhart. Tony saw that and realized, in this new technological era, that doing what we can for the human element is more important. He saw people suffering and knew that he could provide a solution."

"That is quite altruistic of him."

"Oh we are still a business. But Tony has told me that he has lived a life of privilege that many can only dream of. It is only right that he dedicate his mind and resources to doing what he can for others."

"I'm sure the public will be interested to see what Stark Industries develops in light of the tragedy. On another note, LGBTQ groups have been vocal in their support. You have become an icon practically overnight, and many celebrities and politicians have weighed in on Tony Stark's secret marriage—some supportive, some-"

"Not. I've seen those, thank you."

"How do you feel about that?"

"As for becoming the face of the LGBTQ movement I find it humbling, Ms. Everhart. I know many are curious if I will use my newfound influence to support and uplift various causes from same-sex marriage to speaking out against persecution. Tony has been quite, ah, free with his affections-"

"I'll say."

"But I have always been a private individual before all of this.  With that said I'm still quite privileged in other aspects, so I defer to the marginalized activists who have been on the ground since day one. They are the ones in real peril and in need of continual support. And I know many are interested in learning what happened between Tony and I, as well as my story; all I can say is that I will only share when my husband is once again by my side."

"Interesting. Now-"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Everhart, I'm out of time."

"Of course. Thank you, Dr. Strange. From all of us at Vanity Fair we pray Mr. Stark is returned safe and sound."

"Thank you."

Chapter Text

Stephen had just refreshed his cup of ginger tea and a stack of completed paperwork ready for filing sat in the bin for the secretary to collect within an hour's time. The morning sun shone bright, belying the crisp air of early spring. Despite the chill, throngs of people clogged the sidewalks as they moved to and fro along the streets of New York. His mind, for once, had settled into a stillness that could be called meditative.

Then the phone rang.

"Hmm…God-fucking-dammit." Stephen sipped his tea and placed it gingerly in its saucer. "Yes?"

"Dr. Strange, there's a bit of a situation down in the lobby."

Stephen's elegant brows furrowed briefly. "Oh? Then let security handle it."

"The woman is holding one of the men captive. She twisted his arm behind his back, I believe. They say they want to speak to you—it's urgent. Do you want me to call the police?"

God-fucking-dammit.

JARVIS helpfully brought up the security feed on his monitor. As typical of Stark technology, the video was high resolution, and showed a hapless Happy in the grasp of a woman with a long red ponytail. The young Asian boy beside her looked equal parts mortified and ready to have a breakdown. Stephen could understand.

"I'm on my way," Stephen said.

"What? Sir, it's clear they're dangerous-"

"No one is to do anything until I get there." Stephen hung up and adjusted the tie around his neck.

"Doctor, is this wise?" Asked Jarvis as Stephen stalked towards the elevator.

"They're clearly here for a reason. And something tells me it's not about Stark Industries' anticipated line of personal tablets." The elevator took only moments to reach the ground floor, and loud noises of anger and panic assaulted his ears the moment the doors opened. Stephen pursed his lips, blood pressure spiking at the fresh set of nonsense he had to deal with.

"What exactly is going on?" He had long perfected the skill of making his voice carry without having to bellow. It worked wonders in the operating theater and intimidating slacking novices. As expected, every one froze as they shifted towards him.

"Well?" Stephen asked. The Asian boy straightened and bowed deeply.

"Dr. Strange? I must humbly and deeply apologize. This was not meant to happen—we merely wanted a moment of your time-"

"You need a receptionist with better manners," chirped the red-head. She had the audacity to bare her teeth in a smile as she held Happy's wrist in her left hand. Stephen eyed them both.

They were strong. The aura around the young woman had a sickly tinge to it, and the teenager(?) ran hot enough to scald.

Stephen jerked his chin. "You wanted my attention? You have it. Release Happy and pray I won't insist on pressing charges."

The poor boy looked ready to cry, but the woman shrugged. "I guess I got a little hot-headed. Your man grabbed me, first."

Happy grunted and shook his shoulder once freed. "How do you wanna handle this, Doc?"

"Go make sure your arm and shoulder are okay. I'll tell you afterwards once I hear what they have to say. I believe it will be…weird."

"Weird?" Happy grimaced at the word they came up with when referring to the Supernatural. Tony thought of it, naturally; Stephen hadn't been amused.

"May I ask who's come calling?" Stephen gestured for the pair to follow him.

"Name's Elsa Bloodstone, and the jumpy one is Shiro Yoshida. Got some things to tell you about your husband."

Stephen whirled to face her.

"It started when Mr. Stark came across me in Ikebukuro while on a business trip in Tokyo," Shiro began, posture perfect. "I believe that was also your honeymoon?"

"Indeed," Stephen said.

"His father knew my grandfather, and therefore my father as well while they still worked for the clan's company."

Stephen hummed. "Wait a moment, do you mean the Yashida Group?"

"Yes. However, there was a falling out between my grandfather and my grand-uncle, the current head of the family. It had to do with…well, it wasn't good. He was all but cut off."

"That wouldn't happen to be due to Shingen Yashida's sudden pivot into organized crime?"

"I…shouldn't say anything else about that. But Mr. Stark had met my father, and was very kind. As we had been cut from the family, money has been always been an issue, and although not as exorbitant as American universities, Tokyo University is still quite expensive. Mr. Stark sponsored my internship at his Japanese offices due to my English ability. My mother and I are grateful."

Stephen had to smile at another example of Tony's kindness. He never believed it, and for some reason, many people seemed to not notice. "I'm assuming that is why you have come all the way to New York?"

"Mr. Stark sent me classified documents regarding a project of his. He called it Project…" Shiro grimaced and trailed off from clear secondhand embarrassment.

"Go on, lad, it's a safe space here," Elsa chortled.

"He called it Project Superfriends," Shiro finished. Stephen squeezed his eyes shut against the sheer absurdity. Then he had to take a moment to collect himself because it was so stupid but so utterly his husband he couldn't-!

Elsa and Shiro were kind enough to wait him out.

"And what are these…Superfriends…supposed to do?"

"I believe I can assist," Jarvis interrupted. Elsa jumped with a curse.

"You know about this?" Stephen asked.

"Sir placed the information behind dense protocols that could only be accessed upon a set of keywords being spoken. I apologize, Doctor."

"No, no, it's quite alright."

"Mr. Stark compiled a list of people with special abilities. Metahumans, I suppose you could say. The purpose was to ensure your continued well-being and provide support for defense against malicious supernatural forces."

Stephen was not going to tear up again. "The Masters of the Mystic Arts-"

"Are few in number and Sir was quite insistent on your not being mauled by a werewolf."

"Er, yes. If something happened to him, I was to wait certain amount of time before contacting Ms. Bloodstone, who was also aware of the project," added Shiro.

"This is where I come in. Stark approached me whilst I was on some…business…in Dover. He gave his spiel and I wasn't going to bite, but." Elsa paused—finally showing a small chink in her armor. "You see, Stark started talking about how he knew all about arsehole fathers, and while looking me up he came across something interesting from my childhood. My father was a bastard of the highest order. Ulysses Bloodstone was cruel, without mercy, and fixated on hunting every last monster on this planet to extinction, whether they were an actual danger or no. Of course he started training me to do the same. My mum wasn't the most assertive of women, so she let some things go. But eventually even she reached the end of her tether. Threatened to run off me with me and my brother and leave Ulysses to hang. Well, that didn't sit right with my father, so he set up…he had her committed to a mental institution. She was locked up for years."

Stephen stared, unable to even begin to craft a response. Elsa chortled.

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what Stark did but he asked me if I wanted his help to get her out. Didn't even matter if I joined his little club or not. I couldn't do it—I didn't have the money and Ulysses' will was ironclad. Long story short, Mum is recovering and thinking of opening up her own little shop, and I owe Stark big."

"And I thought my dad was a piece of garbage."

"Beginning to think our club should be about useless fathers."

"I loved my father," Shiro whispered, sipping at his tea and staring hard at the table between them.

"Anyway. I've said all I wanted about that. Now we get down to business. Ulysses wasn't normal. He was immortal, basically. I don't know all the story but a long while ago he came upon this stone that embedded itself into his chest. Gave him long life. Strength. Tissue regeneration. Even some psyionic abilities. It's where Bloodstone comes from, you see? I got some of that thanks to being of his blood, but I want the source. The thing itself, the Bloodgem."

"I had assumed, given that his immortality had apparently run out," Stephen drawled.

Jarvis said, "I had managed to trace Ulysess Bloodstone's movements over the decades, but eventually there simply weren't any records old enough."

"Not surprising. Ulysses was good at that sort of thing. Only those in the know and with the funds could get to him, and he was a nomad to start. But I do have a clue. Mum told me about a place of his he had built in the Boston Manor, but she was never allowed to enter. She said she would sometimes hear all sorts of noises down below. But then we moved to England and it didn't matter. I have a good hunch the Bloodgem is connected. With that in my hands this little team should stand a better chance of making it."

Stephen tapped the leather on his armrest. Shiro looked earnest while Elsa was irreverent. He had no doubt she would go without his help if needed. Then he shrugged.

"I fucking hate this job and I'm bored out of my skull, let's go."

"That's the ticket!" Elsa cheered. Shiro honestly looked a little betrayed. He and Zoe would get along fantastically.

"Do you happen to have a picture of your manor?"

"What? Oh, yeah, one moment." Elsa yanked her smartphone out her pocket and thumbed through the pictures. When she found the right one she held it up. The property was well kept despited the long period of disuse, with sprawling grounds and the house itself inspired by New England Colonial. Stephen carefully noted the features before nodding.

"Do you need anything before we go?"

"I'm fine, Dr. Strange," Shiro said, grabbing his bag.

"All set," Elsa added.

Stephen tugged his ring from pocket and slipped it on. "We'll head directly there." With a circular movement the dimensional energies came to life in reddish-orange, forming a portal right before the front door.

"Now that's handy," Elsa whistled. Shiro bowed in thanks before Stephen followed.

"Dr. Strange! You have a meeting in two hours!" Jarvis called.

"Move it or cancel it. Thank you," Stephen answered before stepping through.

"No wonder Sir was so besotted," Jarvis sighed.

The weather in Boston wasn't too different from New York City, with a cleaner sky. Elsa jammed a rustic key into the lock and wrenched the door open. "Mum couldn't bare to stay here, so she's in a townhome for the time being. We've got full run for the place should it prove dangerous."

"Excellent. Do lead the way," Stephen said.

"American homes are so…large," Shiro commented as they followed Elsa down the hallway.

"This is not the norm, I assure you," answered Stephen. They came upon a thick door with two iron bolts and ornate lock.

"…Must we go in there? What if there are…bodies? I've seen a movie just like this."

Stephen and Elsa glanced at each other with smothered smiles. "Don't worry, lad; like I told you earlier, I got you." Elsa patted his shoulder. Stephen gestured and the locks melted away before the door clicked open.

"You are very handy," Elsa said in approval as she descended down stone stairs.

"My husband says the same thing," quipped Stephen.

"Oh? Why is that?" Shiro asked. Stephen and Elsa coughed when it became clear he wasn't joking. "Don't worry about it, kid."

The stairs spiraled down before opening into a large, cavern like room. The air held the cloying smell of rot and dust and the residues of abandonment. Torches along the walls suddenly came to life with a crackle. Shiro and Elsa glanced at him. Stephen shook his head.

"That wasn't me."

Along the stone walls weapons of all kinds were displayed, along with the heads of Ulysses's unfortunate prey. A table made of thick wood stood in the center, suspiciously stained and etched with eldritch runes. Stephen made a note to examine that later.

"Dr. Strange? Miss Bloodstone? You should see this!" Shiro called. Worried, Stephen followed his voice to a corridor off to the side of the main room, then stopped short.

The glass case was a good ten feet tall, with iron bars and bolts lining the edges. Within it held a thing that…appeared to be a man. His skin held a greenish hue and his jaw was a bit too large for his square shaped head. Thick sutures attached the neck to a body found on only in men who moved seriously heavy weight with the bulk to match. The clothes, although well-taken care of, appeared threadbare. It was only then Stephen noticed the mist wafting off the glass.

"He's been frozen," he breathed in awe.

"I knew Ulysses was a piece of work, but damn," Elsa muttered.

Shiro rubbed his chin in thought. "Should we leave him?"

"Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance. Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred." Stephen's voice, albeit low and soft, rang in the silence.

Elsa slowly shook her head, and pushed an impression in the stone. The glass cage hissed and rolling, icy fog swirled around their feet and calves as the compression holding the monster escaped. They watched, wary as it stirred and opened his eyes. The Cloak began to rear up when the monster actually gave out a heaving yawn and stretched his arms towards the roof.

"Oh, that feels so much better. How long have I been in there?" Stephen knew one shouldn't stereotype but that voice should not have come out of that creature's mouth.

"Why does he sound like Sir Laurence Olivier?" Shiro asked.

"How do you know Sir Laurence Olivier?" Stephen turned to stare down at him.

"You must be the young mistress." Fortunately the…man…neither noticed nor cared for their poor manners. "Welcome home, to Bloodstone Manor. I am Adam."

"Better than Prometheus," Stephen muttered.

"Yes, well, that joke got old back in the 70s," Adam said. Stephen scowled. "If you are here, then it appears that the Master has left us."

"Right. Ulysses managed to get himself killed. Finally. Why are you even in here?"

"Initially, I was tasked to manage the property. When the Master took his family to the England estate, he had a curious task for me. In order to protect his secrets, and test his children's worthiness, I was to go to sleep until awoken by someone of his blood," Adam explained as he led them back into the main chamber. He took a large ring of keys off his belt and inserted it into a rusty iron cage holding an old oil lamp. "An artifact. This will deliver you to where you need to go. I warn you-"

"Don't worry, I knew Ulysses well. It'll be life-threatening, traumatizing, and I'll most likely loathe him even more than is even possible."

Adam merely hummed. "Ulysses Bloodstone…was a complicated man."

They touched the lamp.

Stephen used to have a collection of illustrated Arthurian legends he would read over and over when he was a boy. Even though he could recite them from memory—he could even now—he would absorb himself into fantastic legends to muffle his father's rough hands and Victor's insults and, eventually, Donna's eternal silence. The lake before them was so still the water resembled glass, in the middle stood a tower five stories tall made of crumbling stone. All that was needed was a Lady. Stephen stretched out his senses, noting the mystical energies but nothing was inherently dangerous.

The tower, however, was a black hole.

"I suppose we best get moving." Stephen's Armani shifted into his black battle suit and The Cloak came to rest on his shoulders.

"Ooh." Elsa said. "Mine's not as showy, though." She simply unbuttoned her long coat to reveal purple leathers and two handguns tucked securely into their shoulder holsters. A wicked looking knife hung from her hip. They glanced over at Shiro with his jeans and stripped sweater. He only shrugged.

"Um, this is me."

"Right, well." Elsa bit her lip to muffle her amusement and plucked up a rock from the beach. "Let's see what we're dealing with." She tossed the rock into the lake. A second later a giant mouth surged from the once calm surface, snapping at the air with a disgusting crunch of teeth and flesh meal. When the black, eyeless creature realized it had caught nothing, it sank back into the waters as if slipping through silk. The ripples smoothed and it was once more silent.

"I believe I will have nightmares tonight," Shiro said after nearly a minute of stunned silence.

"Yeah, we're not touching that." Stephen formed a few mudras and his magic curled into form. It gathered at their feet before arching over the water and settling at the foot of the Tower. The bridge glowed gold in the mists.

"I was right to bring you along," Elsa said.

"Doctor Strange," Shiro said as they troped across the bridge. "I am probably being unforgivably rude for asking, but you seem very powerful. Is…Is Mr. Stark not-"

"Shiro." Was all Stephen needed to say before the poor kid went silent.

"Hey now, he didn't mean any harm," Elsa scolded. Stephen shut his eyes and shook his head.

"I know. Just…leave it. Please leave it."

"O-Of course. I'm very sorry," Shiro whispered.

Stephen vanished the bridge when they were on solid ground. He sighed. "Right, we should-" He paused. He considered the lake and the tower. "Wait a moment…Elsa, did Ulysses like fairy tales?"

"What? Of course he fucking didn't—not unless he could kill the monster in 'em. Why?"

"There's an old Scandinavian tale about a Giant who was immortal for he had no heart in his body." Both Shiro and Elsa stared at him.

"Ulysses…the Bloodgem was lodged in his chest…"

"In a lake lies an island; on that island lies a church. And in that church there was a well. And in the bottom of the well is a duck. And that duck carries an egg which is where the heart lies," Stephen recited.

"It fits but—it's just not like him," Elsa said.

"But it is the best clue we have. We should enter and see," Shiro said.

"Right. We won't get anywhere yapping about."

The door, luckily, was not hard to find. It all but crumbled in Shiro's hands when he opened it. The inside did resemble an old church to some degree. The lone window let in a soft light and illuminated pews long overgrown by ivy. Dust stirred at their feet as they walked towards where the altar would be. Indeed, a well had been built and led to more darkness.

"Not for nothing, but you don't suppose that duck is still alive, do you?" Elsa drawled. Stephen huffed and summoned a bubble around them.

"We should continue."

The well went deep. Deeper and deeper they descended into the earth with no sign of water. When they reached the bottom, it was only to yet another corridor. The walls began to glow and the temperature crept upward. Stephen grimaced and tugged at his collar. He tried a spell but it was short-lived.

"This is magic—and from what I can tell it gets even more concentrated as you go along. It's bearable now-"

"But we'll be cooked alive. I'm pretty sturdy, I can-"

Shiro shook his head. "No, it's about time I was good for something. Please, allow me." He held up his hand and it was engulfed in flame. Surprised to feel its energy, Stephen reached forward only for Shiro to jerk away. "I'm sorry, I can't control it that well, yet."

"That's a mystical flame. If you'll allow, we can help. But that can't be a mutation."

"It…it is, but it's not." Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. "I…well. My great-grandfather was the last of a long line of Yashida. The clan can trace its lineage back before even the Empress Himiko came into power over the Yamato. We had a sacred duty to guard a magical artifact and we have done, and still do so. Eventually, the family land became what was part of Hiroshima. And…I'm sure you know your history."

Stephen and Elsa glanced at each other but Shiro continued. "My great-grandfather managed to survive, but we believe the radiation did something. He succumbed to cancer, but my grandfather and father…they weren't quite normal. And then when I was born…well, you saw."

"Kid-" Stephen began.

"Y-You know, Howard Stark was part of the Manhattan Project," Shiro laughed without much humor.

Jesus Christ, Stephen thought.

"I think Mr. Stark felt guilty when he offered me the position. No, I'm certain. But he was a good man who helped me and my mother out. My father's benefits only do so much. So I'm glad to help, I really am."

Stephen licked his lips, not just dry from the heat and lack of humidity, and nodded. "You got this, kid."

Shiro grinned. "I got this."

As they waited for Shiro to deal with the source of the heat, Elsa suddenly spoke, quoting:
"Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures."

"You are a woman of many talents, Miss Bloodstone," Stephen said. Elsa smirked.

"I'm not just a pretty face and a mean right hook."

The glow of the walls faded and the temperature dropped so suddenly Stephen nearly lost his breath.

"Looks like the kid was successful. Let's go." Elsa's boots clicked on the stone as Stephen floated beside her. She eyes him. "Seriously?"

"He's been a little bored, too, lately." Cloak's lapel gave a jaunty wave. Shiro waited at the bottom of a set of stairs. His sneakers were soaked in stagnant water.

"I wanted to wait for you," Shiro explained.

"Smart," Elsa said, "because now this is more my expertise."

"You sense it as well," Stephen said.

"Like I said, I didn't get the full deal but Ulysses passed on some things. Whatever this is is old and powerful. Keep your guard up, lad."

"Yes, ma'am," came the obedient reply as Shiro rolled up his sleeves.

"Whew, your mum sure did teach you some manners." Elsa unholstered her guns and shot into the dark. Purple light appeared but a moment later, humming in rhythm to a heart beat. Stephen summoned his scythe.

"I think the duck and the egg were a little false," he murmured.

The rhythm grew faster and more frantic as whatever they disturbed gained consciousness. Stephen felt something sliming ooze across his psychic shields—testing, probing, mocking as they tapped and laughed at how puny his mind was.

"This is…the best Ulysses can do," the thing gasped. The light was still low, but it was enough to see the giant brain hovering in the middle of a circle of stone pillars. In its frontal lobe a giant gem shone blood red. It didn't take much detective work for Stephen to guess what it was. He then examined what looked to be the remains of a sigil and seal that was frayed at the edges. "But I suppose it's not for nothing. I feel his blood within you, girl. Does it hurt to know that it was I who ripped the shard of Bloodgem from your father's chest?"

"No, not at all. Good on you for succeeding what many have failed at."

That caused the brain to roar. The cavern shook. Rocks and dust felt down around them. It was then creatures formed from the shadows, movements jerking like a dying spider's limbs.

"I was there, you know. When that primitive caveman found an artifact so old it proceeds even this universe," it gasped. "I do not have a convenient visual for your minds to associate. Here, in this prison, I have manifested a form as close an image as possible. I am known as Exo-Mind. I am, if you will, the Ego or Id of the original other dimensional Bloodgem Helix. I speak through all Bloodgem fragments. I was magically born when a race  of…gods, I believe to be the closest term, of another reality. My purpose was to conquer other dimensions.

But I wanted more, and tore that universe to shreds. The Bloodgem survived even that and parts of it flew across galaxies—one to your little planet. You creatures bore me, but your planet is so teeming with life. I was going to suck you dry-"

"And now you're going to die. Shame, you looked good for your age."

Shiro sent a blast of fire against a horde of shadows, causing them to shriek. And, from there, the battle began. Stephen cut down swathes of enemies and summoned the Flames of Faltine when able.

"Your form could use a lot of work!" Elsa called.

"There is room for improvement," Shiro agreed in apology.

"I'm going to need the both of you to concentrate on dealing with the gigantic, talking brain and get off my a—" The Cloak had to yank him out of harm's way when a shadow snuck up from behind.

Elsa neatly performed what would have been a neck breaker on the shadow between her heels and huffed. "We need another plan! Strange, can you open the way for me to get a clear shot?"

"I don't know—my form might prove to be a hinderance."

"No one likes a whiny bitch, Strange."

"Then you are going to be very disappointed in our continuing acquaintance-"

"I should be able to do it," Shiro interrupted. He clenched his fists and his entire form lit like a bonfire. He fired one, concentrated blast at Ezo-Mind. The shields buckled, and when Stephen added his, they fell. Elsa laughed and hefted a large stone pillar. She hurled it like a javelin; her eyes glinted from the rush of adrenaline and thirst for battle. The sharp edge cracked the gem and the sounds of shrieking edged past painful. Shiro was clutching his ears in futility.

"You-!"

"It's about time you got here."

Elsa froze. Her eyes widened and for the first time she seemed visibly nervous. "That was Da's-"

"You've always been a hair too slow." Ulysses stood proud and faintly disapproving with his bulging arms crossed. His form, however, was translucent.

"You! I sucked the life out of you!" Ezo-Mind howled.

"That was the plan, you dense creature!" Ulysses snapped. "All these years and still you doubt that I would do anything for my righteous cause!"

"Oh ho…the Bloodgem chose an interesting host indeed. Even now you have enough power to project your form onto this plane."

Elsa stared at them both, then her delicate features twisted with rage. "This was your plan all along. This is the creature you spent my entire life trying to kill, itn't it? Your fucking white whale! You play dead to get me to come back and do your dirty work!"

Ulysses merely stared at her, unmoved and not protesting the accusation. "When I first came across the Bloodgem in these lands, I was part of a nomadic tribe that called Northern Anaheim home during the Lost Age. This thing sapped the life out of my tribe. I have spent 10,000 years working to exact my revenge—but it was, by chance, that I learned the truth. This fiend would create monster after monster, creature after creature to distract my attention and use my body as host. He controlled my reasoning, my very thoughts through the thing that has kept me alive."

Elsa's face twitched as she pieced it together. "It was him all along-"

"You need not pity me, girl!" Ulysses snapped. "He was an influence, true, but I am not to be wholly absolved. But even Exo-Mind can make a mistake."

The brain laughed. "True enough. Bringing that monstrosity, that foolish doctor's attempt at creating life to consciousness was amusing. The suffering, the chaos! Only when the creature met Ulysses, its rage…vanished."

"You would not understand the feeling of kinship," Ulysses retorted.

"You mean Adam," Shiro gasped. "Adam was how you figured it out."

"And so I set my plan into motion. All to let myself be absorbed, and to destroy you, once and for all. My blood will see your end." Ulysses glowed and Exo-Mind shrieked as the stone cracked further. "I will crumble this thing into dust and take you with it."

"But if you do that, what will happen to you?" Elsa asked.

"Oh? I will die! And it will be a glorious end!" Ulysses' face was infused with joy, and Stephen saw the strong resemblance between father and daughter in that moment. Elsa's blow to the Bloodgem had been just what Ulysses had needed. More cracks appeared as Ulysses attacked it from the inside. Absorbed and in union with the gem, there was nothing Exo-Mind could do to excise him. In his greed and lust to absorb all life, he had brought about his very end.

Exo-Mind screamed and cursed and then bargained as the Bloodgem crumbled slowly into dust. Ulysses only laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed. His laughter echoed across the cavern and some part of Stephen cursed his eidetic memory because he would hear it for the rest of his days.

"That's it! That's all you have to say??" Elsa shouted.

Ulysses turned his back. "We have said everything that needs saying. Adam holds the key to what you will need next. Exo-Mind must be destroyed or he will not stop in his quest to absorb the life of everything."

"Typical," Elsa spat.

"Surely you want to live for your daughter? I can create a new form!" Said Exo-Mind. Ulysses only snorted.

"I have lived for over 10,000 years. That is more than long enough. I see the Lady Death now and she beckons us into her waiting embrace. Besides, this planet has long bored me. The hunts in the other realm are sure to be marvelous!"

Ulysses laughter and Exo-Mind's dying howls rang for long moments after the gem turned to dust and was dissolved into the water.

Shiro looked at Stephen, lost at what to say to Elsa as she stood with her head bowed. Nothing of their fight remained, as if it hadn't even occurred. Stephen opened his mouth to attempt…something, but Elsa girded her shoulders.

"Come on. We should see what Adam has to say."

Adam looked unsurprised to see them return. He did glance at Elsa in faint pity before speaking. "It is done, then. The Master has avenged his people."

"He has," Stephen said.

"Then there is one last thing. A gift for completing your task. As expected of his daughter." Adam turned to the table and picked up a curved knife the length of a normal man's forearm. Runes gleamed on its black surface.

Elsa frowned. "He said you would have the key."

"And indeed, I do. The Master had no use for fairy tales, but there was one from homeland he did…appreciate."

"The Giant Who Had No Heart In His Body, yes-" Stephen choked and his eyes snapped from the knife, to Adam's serene expression, and back to the knife again. "…The Giant in Question wasn't Ulysses, was it?"

Shiro groaned and Elsa looked sickened. Adam nodded. "It will be alright. The Giant lived quite well without it, after all. The Master wanted you to have a Bloodgem shard without the taint of that abomination. This knife is the only thing that can cut the sutures holding it in my chest. Please—part of the reason I was frozen was not only so Exo-Mind could not discover our plot, but every second with it in my body is agony. You would be doing me a mercy."

Elsa nodded and strode up to Adam and took the knife from his hands. "I'll do it, as penance for Ulysses' cruelty."

"You will be a fine Mistress."

"Malick, this is Stane."

"Oh, Obadiah! What a surprise to hear from you. You sound stressed."

"I don't have time for games, Malick-"

"Obadiah, please. We are old friends—you are allowed to call me Gideon."

Gideon took pleasure in imagining Obadiah's teeth cracking from the strain. Finally the other sighed. "Fine, Gideon. We have a situation."

"I did tell you you were over-reaching, my friend. Slow and steady."

"I've been playing that 'slow and steady' game for decades! Infiltrating Howard Stark's circle, keeping him focused on weapons development, grooming his son—don't patronize me!"

"And yet you are calling me. Obadiah, what is it? I'm busy myself. The WSC needs careful guidance and I've been advising Fury's little pet project. Do you know how difficult that is? The man puts new meaning to paranoia."

"Stark Industries is beyond my control."

"Oh?"

"Turns out the little shit got smart. He went and got married—locking me out completely. That doctor's in charge and he loathes me. Even worse, Raza double-crossed me and is holding Tony ransom—probably to get weapons straight from the source."

Gideon blinked, then burst out into laughter. Make no mistake, losing access to Stark weapons would be a bit of a snag and impede their efforts in destabilizing key regions, but they would overcome; cut off one head and more would grow in its stead. But Obadiah had never believed in their cause. Gideon was pragmatic enough not to care, but the man's greed had finally caught up with him.

"Gideon-"

"Oh get a sense of humor, Obadiah."

"A sense of—you can't be serious. Once Strange starts digging it's only a matter time before he finds out the books don't match!"

"You sound certain he will."

"He's already ordered the division closed. An audit will occur in the near future if not any day now! I know his type—he's obsessed with Tony-"

"So he'll be making a point to look into everything," Gideon finished. "That sounds like a personal problem, my friend."

"Look. Selling weapons under the table isn't a small affair and can be traced back to certain parties who may not want the publicity."

"Hm…this is true enough. Well, we'll ensure that SHIELD handles the investigation—that way we can make certain things disappear. Those in the direct line of fire cannot be saved, so I'm afraid your usefulness is coming to an end."

"Wait, wait! Just a minute. I was calling to see if we can't turn things around. There must be something."

Gideon sighed but figured he could play along. "Like what?"

"I have never asked you people for anything, but you have profited greatly from my efforts."

"And how is that my fault?"

"Can't Strange have an unfortunate…accident?"

"…You would use that resource for this? And from what it sounds like your days are numbered. You should take your imprisonment like a man."

"I have done too much for too long to go to prison! Hear me out. Tony hasn't been declared dead yet—as his legal spouse Strange was put in charge. We get him out of the way and after three months the Board will have no choice but to make another appointment. You can float forward someone susceptible to your influence. Davids is young and stupid."

"You just said Tony Stark is alive but held captive. Having his spouse dead before him won't change much."

"He won't be going anywhere. He's in some cave in bumfuck Afghanistan with nothing but the clothes on his back—if even that. But in the very, very unlikely event he escapes and is found, losing Strange much like his parents would make him easy pickings. Hydra can regain lost ground in no time. If Tony never returns, Strange's daughter is a five year old and ripe for your influence. I can still be of use. I have decades of experience and skills—but only if you keep me out of prison."

Gideon paused and considered his words. Obadiah must be desperate if he's offering up that sort of collateral; but desperation had its uses. They weren't talking about the Super Soldier Serum this time, so Soldat would be overkill…well, perhaps not. Stark Industries had influence in several countries and strong ties with the Pentagon. It was worth billions. Those resources could only prove useful.

He pulled up his computer and with a few keystrokes had the information he wanted. Thanks to Obadiah's impatience there was no way Hydra would be able to recruit Strange (shame, he would have been useful…and a possible Enhanced?). But that his name also appeared in the Project Insight database was interesting. The concept had been around since the 70s but was years out from proper development—the WSC was digging its heels without a proper excuse to execute it. Gideon was patient and played the long game, however; the perfect catalyst for Insight would reveal itself. But, as Strange was set to die anyway it might as well be in a way that benefits Hydra.

He brought the phone back up to his ear. "You know what, Obadiah? Today is your lucky day. We'll arrange an accident much like the Starks'—that should cause the most pain. And we'll provide you sanctuary at one of our holdings. But know this: you will have to do something special for me. Not now, but in the future. And you will not be able to refuse. Do you understand?"

"…Yes, I understand."

Chapter Text

Stephen tapped on the keypad to unlock Tony's lab. It hurt to be down here without him, but needs must. There were several schematics he had to deliver to R&D that could no longer wait if they wanted to make deadline. Stephen was pleased with their progress so far. Their stocks had increased and the publicity tended toward positive. One of the interns down in PR had come up with a campaign to lean into how historic his appointment was; to be fair, he couldn't argue the point. He and Tony were the only openly LGBTQ CEOs of a Fortune 500 company—they were literally it. Tony was the first and Stark Industries was worth billions. They had avoided and deflected the issue until they had more time to give it the attention it deserved, but that was no longer an option given recent circumstances.

"Doctor Strange?" Jarvis greeted.

"Yes, Jarvis?" Stephen answered.

"I found…Doctor Strange, are you alone right now?"

Stephen considered him more human than many, but to hear hesitation and uncertainty from an A.I. was something else. "The girls are at the beach. Pepper and Happy are upstairs to take me to the LA offices."

"If you could call them down here, I would be most appreciative. There is something you need to see and it's distressing."

Stephen obeyed, his mind racing from the possibilities. Both Pepper and Happy looked perturbed at the message. Rhodey had left for Afghanistan once more and couldn't be reached.

"Jarvis, what's wrong?" Pepper asked.

"As instructed I have been taking account of company servers and flagging processes for further review, as well as assisting Dr. Strange in day-to-day operations. I received the final authorizations from our former Weapons Division and had taken the liberty to begin the audit."

"I thought we were going to wait until Obadiah came back from overseas?" The timing hadn't been optimal, but given everything that had happened and the fact that Stane had been long overdue for time off anyway, Stephen hadn't protested the sudden leave. Of course he also wanted to toss the man down a hole, but he was trying to be a better person.

"I have found some inconsistencies."

"Inconsistencies? Like what?" Stephen said.

"To be frank, we are missing a great number of weapons and materials."

"Okay, so, what? Have they been put in storage? Broken down for parts?" Happy interjected.

And, finally, he understood. "The cargo manifests," Stephen breathed.

Pepper startled and said, "What cargo manifests?"

"Tony found some strange activity coming from one of SI's subsidiaries. He was looking into it, but—I'm an idiot." Stephen opened a portal to his New York City closet and marched up to the safe. He opened it with jerky movements. He yanked out the stack of folders and kicked it shut.

"There have been shipments he couldn't account for. Africa, the Middle East, the Baltics. Stane was having something shipped out but Tony didn't know what. He assumed they were non-essentials of some kind but I don't think that's the case." He whipped open a folder and shuffled through the pages. "Jarvis, scan this for me—see if anything comes up in Stane's files."

"I'm pulling up the results now," Jarvis said. The holoscreen materialized above the table. Stephen scanned through the numbers.

"What am I looking at?"

"Designation numbers for our weapons." Pepper turned milky white under the harsh lighting. "He's shipping out our missiles."

Stephen thought back to the media frenzy that had surrounded SI in the previous timeline. It all made sense—Tony shutting down the division, Stane's disappearance, the creation of Iron Man. This was why. He hadn't cared at the time, but now that he thought about it, it was very strange how the whole incident was glossed over. SI's weapons hadn't just fallen in the wrong hands out of incompetence; some rumors had claimed Tony himself had done it. Stephen liked to think himself above petty gossip, yet he had to admit that that had colored his impression, and initial behavior, when he met Tony the first time. But it had been Stane the entire time. And then that bombshell, pun somewhat intended, had all been lost with the appearance of the first modern superhero.

"I…I assume this isn't through legal channels."

"No. This is—oh my god. Obadiah just…! Oh my god."

"How long? Shit, he's been with the company for decades—since the start! And now Tony goes missing?"

"Jarvis, can you gather up all the documents and secure them somewhere safe? We need to get this to the Feds." Happy, bless him, managed to keep his head before Stephen and Pepper dissolved into hysterics.

"Of course. I have done so already."

Stephen hadn't liked Stane but he had believed he had cared for his godson. Tony had believed that. Had loved him like a father.

"There is more, I'm afraid. The documents were located on a hidden drive but that wasn't the only thing. There was a video. I think, perhaps, you should sit down."

"Why would I need to sit down? Just show us," Stephen commanded.

When Jarvis pulled up the video and he watched a heavily armed man yank the sack from Tony's head, Stephen wished he had listened. Luckily, Happy managed to haul him to a chair before his legs gave out. Another man read from a paper, his voice sharp. Dried blood and dirt stained the side of Tony's face and his shirt. His eyes stared at the camera but Stephen doubted he was cognizant enough to realize it.

"Oh," Pepper groaned, hand over her mouth.

"Jarvis, we can't understand what he's saying. I need you to translate," said Happy.

The video scrolled back and played once more in English: "You did not tell us that the target you paid us to kill was the great Tony Stark. As you can see Obadiah Stane, your deception and lies will cost you dearly. The price to kill Tony Stark has just gone up."

None of them spoke. All three sat with the heaviness of what they had just witnessed. Stephen swallowed back bile.

"A leave of absence, hm?" Stephen whispered.

"Stephen, hey!" Happy grabbed his shoulder and shook him. He came back to himself enough to see Pepper bracing herself against the cracked table. Saffron, again.

"I will find him. And he will suffer," Stephen continued. He become long used to the feeling of disassociation due to frequent astral travel; however, this time it felt different. It felt as if he could float to a place he had never been to before but knew all too intimately.

"I get it. I do. But we need to take this to the authorities. It'll do no good for you to go to jail."

"You assume I'll leave evidence and a body-!"

"Hey!" Happy shook him once more, forcing him to look in his eyes. "We gotta do this by the book."

Stephen struggled to breathe through the rage, even when he knew Happy was right. Tony was more important than Stane—he had to focus on that. Finally, he nodded. "Fine."

"Okay. I'll get the process started. Pretty sure the CIA won't talk to you anymore."

"That agent should have minded his manners."

Happy snorted. "I'll take you and Pepper to LA. We can't give what we know away just yet. You two go about your day as planned. We'll have dinner and I'll update you. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Happy. Truly." Stephen managed to quell his shaking even though the anger still clawed at his throat.

"U-Um," Pepper said, gesturing to her forehead. "You…got an eye…"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I should-"

"Right. Yes. You should cover that up."

Tony hurriedly shoved aside the sheet metal covering Yinsen's body. The relief he felt at seeing the man stir was dashed by the blood dribbling down his chin. No, not after everything.

"Hey, c'mon. We got a plan let's stick to it." Tony wasn't sure the suit could transport someone so grievously injured without doing more harm than good, but he fixed things. He excelled at that, so he should be able to cobble together something.

"This was always the plan," Yinsen wheezed.

Tony heard the words but didn't quite understand their meaning. "What're you talking about? You gotta see your family-"

"My family is dead." The words cut through any protests Tony could have made. For a horrifying moment, he wondered if his weapons were responsible for that as well. "I'm g-going to see them. It's okay—I want this. You have a family of your own to go back to."

Tony swallowed back tears. "Yinsen-"

"Don't waste it. Don't waste your life."

Tony grit his teeth to bite back the sobs. Goddammit! Okay—okay. He stood to leave the cave and enter the sun, only to stop when he noticed a figure standing in the shadows. They made no sound nor movement. Tony had nearly looked over them—the black robes and hood blending into the dark. The shape was feminine and slender, but their facial features were a mystery.

"You-You're real." Tony choked at the sight of a bony hand gesturing to the mouth of the cave and the nearly blinding light. "Hey. I'm not gonna pretend I understand your interest in me, but do you have to take him? He saved my life—I…I can't leave him."

Death cocked her head to the side and Tony got the sense she was, once more, laughing her ass off at him. "You want him to stay that badly? Do you not believe that is selfish?"

"Maybe it is. But I know what's it like to lose a family. I know the feeling of just losing all faith in life's bullshit. I'd have drowned in a bottle of whiskey by now if it wasn't for my friends and the new family I somehow got blessed with. Yinsen deserves that chance more than anyone. Death isn't some reward-"

"Indeed. I merely Am."

Tony knew he should have died, yet here he was. That had to mean something—he'll make it mean something. The cave shook and Tony lost his footing. When he regained his balance and looked back up, the figure was gone.

Tony's heart thudded in his chest as he frantically looked about his surroundings. It was only the sight of Yinsen's crumpled form coming to life with hacking coughs that made his own lungs flare in sympathy that he remembered.

Tony took grim pleasure of seeing his weapons blow sky-high.

The flight capabilities left a lot to be desired, but considering the circumstances he could let it slide. Any landing you walked away from was a success. The slate blue sky stretched before him, ending only when it touched yellow sands in the distance. Tony trudged along the dunes, all but carrying Yinsen's slight weight. He felt the heat radiating through the soles of his boots—it was nearly worse than the rays baking his skin and making it pinch and prickle. Yinsen could only whimper a soft groan every few minutes. Death may not have taken him but he still looked ready to pass at any moment. Thank fuck Tony had started lifting weights again; he was probably running on adrenaline and sheer spite at this point.

But Yinsen had died. It would have stuck if Death hadn't…what? Suddenly become a bleeding heart? He may have talked himself into something he couldn't hope to understand. More importantly, Yinsen was another in a long line of people dead due Tony's weapons and tech. He had to make it right somehow. And, shit, how long was he gone? The cave seemed to be part of another world where day and night hadn't mattered. Did Stephen still hold hope he was alive? Did Rhodey? Pepper, Happy?

The whirring blades of a helicopter breaking through the silence sounded like the wings of an angel to his ears. Which was a weird analogy—probably the looming heat stroke. He watched it touch down on the sand and a figure in camouflage shove open the hatch.

"Rhodey?" He croaked as his friend all but leapt out of the interior. Rhodey pulled him into a tight hug; it hurt, of course, but Tony didn't give a shit. It was the best thing he'd felt in a long time.

"How was the 'Fun-vee'?" Rhodey asked, voice choked. Tony squeezed him tighter.

"An experience, not gonna lie. Negative five thousand out of ten," Tony said.

"Yeah, well, you're riding with me from now on." Rhodey and another airman helped them up and practically carried them to the waiting helicopter. Another soldier assisted him inside. Tony groaned when they jostled his left arm.

"Get me a sling," Rhodey ordered.

"'m fine, Rhodeybear, just take me home. And you make sure this guy gets the best care available. I don't give a shit what it takes—he's the reason I'm walking."

Rhodey patted his good shoulder and arm, as if to convince himself he hadn't suffered the effects of a mirage. "You got it. I'll see to it myself. But we also need to get you cleaned up and looked at. Closest place to do that is in Germany."

Tony glanced at the other soldier, some sort of medical professional, providing emergency care and nodded. Steph would understand. "Then we head to Germany, I guess."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere and you and Stephen will be disgusting together soon enough."

"How long?"

"Tones-"

"How long? I gotta know."

"It's been eight weeks, just about. Tones, we found out some things."

"Eight weeks," Tony murmured. Both too long and, thankfully, not as bad as it could have been. "Where the fuck is Obadiah?"

If Rhodey found the non-sequitur strange he didn't comment. "That's part of what we need to go over with you. By the time we found out about his crimes he vanished. Took a private jet toward Asia and…" Tony nodded and shut his eyes.

"Don't let 'em touch me."

"…I won't."

Tony grew antsy as the hours passed. He become more aware of his aches and pains as his mind slowly accepted that he was safe once more. It seemed that the military had learned its lesson—a ridiculous amount of soldiers escorted them into a base in Germany despite it not being an active war zone. Tony kept a protective arm over his chest, masking the glow of the reactor. Yinsen had been placed on a gurney and wheeled in another direction. Tony's gaze followed him as far as it could go.

"Can't believe the poor bastard even survived all that. Those gun shot wounds to the abdomen should have done 'im in," one of the airman murmured to his colleague. Tony swallowed against the unease that had settled heavy in his gut. Yeah; unbelievable.

Rhodey kept up a steady stream of assurances and chatter. He didn't ask why Tony had a sudden aversion to showers and refused any attempt at medical care once clean and fed. He kept his word and Tony couldn't ask for a better friend. He didn't deserve it, but he had it. Yet not even Rhodey could stop him from jumping up from his chair during another "debriefing" that was totally not an interrogation, honest.

"Okay, I'm done. Fuck you. I want to talk to Stephen."

The agent held up his hands. "Now Mr. Stark, the CIA-"

"I don't give a—! CIA, NBA, MTV, MSNBC—I've told you everything. I'm done. Get me a goddamn phone!"

The agent sighed and muttered under his breath. "God, they're so much alike." 

"So can I call my—Rhodey, does everyone know?"

Rhodey laughed, "O~h yeah, the whole world knows."

"Awesome. I want my husband on the phone."

"Mr. Stark," the agent began.

"Look, I get you're trying to do your job but you are not going to get anything else out of him," Rhodey said. "He's been held captive for weeks, let him talk to his family."

"You know we'll have to monitor the call," sighed Agent who-the-fuck-ever.

Tony snorted and said, "Jokes on you we're kinda into that. Phone. Now."

Tony sent Rhodey a thankful look as the CIA agent went to do just that. "How is he? Is he mad?"

"Tony I promise you he will be the opposite of mad-"

"Because he told me he didn't want me to go and then I nearly get killed not even a year into our marriage," Tony rambled, leg jumping as they waited. His heart rate skyrocketed when someone returned with an obnoxiously big satellite phone that was no doubt bugged to hell.

"Ask him yourself." Rhodey put the phone down on the table in front of him, knowing his dislike of being handed things. Tony grabbed it and brought it up to his ear, listening to the connection being transferred. When it finished, the voice he had wanted to hear for ages filled his ear.

"Tony?" He had been wrong earlier, Stephen sounded like a true angel. Tony had to swallow back the lump in his throat and he covered his eyes with one scraped up hand. He sagged against the metal table, unable to hold himself upright any longer. He didn't bother trying to wipe away the tears.

"Hey, baby. Miss me?" Tony managed to sob out.

Stephen sounded choked up as he replied. "Every day. It's going to be awkward, though."

"How so?"

"I'll have to end things with my new sugar daddy."

Tony broke into near hysterical laughter. It lasted far longer than it should have, but he'd needed it. He wasn't sure what he would have done if Stephen had broken down as well. "You'll find me a forgiving soul—as long as there's a tape."

"Who do you think you married? Of course there's a tape."

"You spoil me, carinyo." Tony sniffled. "Shit. There's so much I wanna say. I imagined this day for so long but now that it's here, I don't know."

"I love you. And you are amazing and so strong. It was hard, at first—but I knew that you would come back because you're you."

It took Tony several minutes before he could answer. The table was wet from his crying and Stephen murmured soft words in his ear. This, more than anything, confirmed that it wasn't a dream. He wasn't dreaming and he no longer felt lost. Obadiah didn't even matter right now—Tony would hunt him down like the rat he was in due time.

"Damn, that's smooth as fuck. You always make me look bad," Tony said.

"You did marry the best."

"That I did—still don't know how I managed it."

Stephen chuckled. "Besides, it's the truth."

"I love you, too." The two of them fell silent for a moment, content in listening to the other breathe. "Sweetheart, I'll be back in a soon-"

"California. Once it got out that Obadiah and some of your board helped arm various insurgent groups around the globe the girls and I moved to the Malibu mansion for security reasons. Happy insisted. I think he was working through the grief."

"So you did take over? I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to warn you about several things."

"Don't be sorry. If it weren't for your father's asshole buddies your instructions would have been followed without my input. Stane slipped through our fingers but he'll be found."

"He will be. Trust me on that."

"I always do. Three of the Board have been implicated and have been placed into detention without bail."

Tony hummed as he considered his options. "How about the company? Our employees shouldn't suffer for the Board's, and my, fuck ups."

"I disagree that you share responsibility for this travesty but I know that won't convince you." Stephen paused. Then his voice dipped lower. "But don't worry—I took care of everything."

Tony licked his bottom lip. "Ooh, let's talk about that. Tell me more."

"Mm, where should I begin? Public opinion is high, despite the rampant homophobia, and according to polling you are more popular than ever. Everything has been prepared for Stark Industries to slide neatly into other markets; I hear Apple is understandably nervous. Two of your most ardent dissenters on the board have been…persuaded…to take a well-needed vacation."

"And then what?" Tony breathed. Rhodey was twitching even from across the room.

"Let's just say General Ross doesn't like me and I don't like him back. They know not to ask me for anything if they want continued access to your technology."

"I wanna marry you again keep going-"

"Our weapons division is completing its outstanding projects but has been effectively frozen. However, the damage was minimal and trends indicate that public trust will continue to climb with the announcement of our new products in the third quarter."

"Don't stop there I swear to God-"

"I have released a press packet detailing the ballistic and impact-resistant technology you've been developing."

"And?"

"And I have some proposals regarding medical devices for you to peruse when you get back. All in all, stocks are rising and you will have plenty of time to recover in peace—I'll make sure of that."

"Phew. Okay, all right." Tony blew out a ragged breath and tugged his hair. "That was great."

"I know."

"You do realize they're monitoring this, right?"

"I was informed. But we're kinda into that."

Tony had no idea it was possible to love someone so much. "Oh darling-"

"This is the weirdest thing you've made me sit through but I can't even be mad due to the circumstances," Rhodey grumbled.

"Oops, forgot Rhodey was here for a second-"

"Hey!"

"We'll pick this up soon."

Stephen chuckled and said, "I'll be waiting. Don't give Rhodey a hard time, but feel free to make the CIA and NSA miserable. They irritate me."

"Consider it another wedding gift, babe. Send everyone my love." Tony blew kisses into the phone and hung up.

"Are you actually going to do that?" Asked Rhodey.

"Honesty and keeping one's promises are integral to a long and healthy marriage. Besides, now that I'm no longer being waterboarded within an inch of my life I'm fucking pissed off." He set the phone down with a satisfying thunk. "I'm really fucking pissed off."

Just a few more hours.

He whispered the mantra under his breath when they finally embarked onto a carrier headed to the US. Yinsen had to stay in Germany, still in a coma. 

Then it became one more hour, then minutes, and then the plane had landed and Rhodey wheeled him out in a wheelchair. Tony ignored the stretcher making its way to him in favor of locking on to the tall, dark figure waiting for him. 

Stephen looked phenomenal. He could have grown a hunchback and lost all but one tooth and he still would have been the best thing Tony had ever seen. Those eyes, the very things that had pulled him in in the first place, were a bright blue to match the sky, albeit reddened from tears. That wouldn't do at all.

"Look at you, babe. Let me objectify you for a second." Tony pointedly dragged his gaze up and down Stephen's form before he bared his teeth in a smile. "Am I going to be seeing any other sugar daddies when we get home?"

"Do you want to?" Stephen's voice made his toes curl and Tony wanted to bury himself against him. In him. Probably forever.

"You spoil me as always. But I'm not up to sharing right now."

"Then don't worry—I kicked him out this morning."

Rhodey shook his head with a laugh and clapped Tony on his uninjured shoulder. "I gotta head back. I'll be seeing you soon, though."

"Of course, sugarplum," said Tony. He accepted the strong bear hug from Happy, who nodded and grunted in a comforting and masculine manner. He grasped Stephen's waiting hand. There were promises and unspoken things in his smile. The hugging and kissing (and everything else) would come later. They wanted intimacy and they wouldn't get it out in the open on an Air Force Base. They had decided in those few seconds—without words, without any doubt.

Pepper, far too used to their shenanigans at this point, didn't even bat an eyelash. "Oh thank God, Tony, I'm so glad you're here!" She hugged him, gentle in contrast to Happy's. "Come on, we need to get to the hospital and-"

"No hospitals," Tony interjected as they settled into the car. Both Stephen and Pepper stared at him. "And where's my Sofia? And Zoe and Jackie? Cough 'em up!"

Stephen stared at him. "I—they're at the mansion. We didn't want to overwhelm you and we planned for you to go straight to the hospital, anyway. They wanted to set up a get-together for later."

"They are the best. But no hospitals."

"Okay, stop—perhaps the stress has gotten to me—are you telling me to my face-?!" Stephen began, voice rising.

"Such a gorgeous face. Ethereal. One that I spent every hour visualizing-"

"Wax poetic about Stephen's features while we're going to the hospital," Pepper snapped.

"I spent months in a cave I'm not going anywhere I don't want to," Tony said, ending the argument.

Pepper bit her lip while Stephen reared back as if slapped. Tony sighed and continued, "I only trust Steph with my care. He can look at me later. Right now I only want two things: an American cheeseburger, and-"

"Not while I'm in the car with you-"

"-a press conference. Ms. Potts you surprise me I must be a terrible influence."

"You are." Pepper ignored his gasp and clutched chest. Stephen crossed his arms with a smile.

"Is that really all you want?"

Tony looked him over. "You're right, make that six-"

"Why set up a press conference so quickly? We can announce your return via press release and have the conference when you're more rested," Pepper asked.

"She asks because Susan in PR wrote a very moving piece," Stephen added.

"Give this Susan a bonus. We can still release it later to keep the momentum going. But I need to get out there. I want to reiterate our new vision and make it clear that the weapons division is staying shut down. More importantly, I want to show that I support Stephen's leadership one hundred and fifty percent and sing his praises."

"On second thought perhaps this press conference has some merit," Stephen said while Tony wriggled his eyebrows. Pepper grumbled.

"I can't stand either of you."

The sky had turned a lovely array of reds and oranges as the day slid into evening. Stephen puttered, for lack of a better term, around their room, listening to his husband's tearful reunion with Jarvis. He set aside the bandages and anti-biotic cream with a smile. The fear that had sat in his chest from the moment he recovered from the magical backlash eased with each passing moment.

The suit jacket had been discarded onto the bed and the black shirt had been partially unbuttoned. Stephen didn't want to lower the mood but he had sworn to safeguard Tony's health and he meant to uphold it.

"Let me see," he said, leaning back against the dresser.

"Hm, see what?" Tony hedged.

"Whatever it is you're hiding."

Tony licked his lips, which would have been distracting, but as he had just come back from two months of torture Stephen wasn't going to do a damn thing until he was satisfied with Tony's condition. "I-"

"Tony," Stephen said, pitching his voice low. "Please. Whatever is wrong we can fix it."

"Fix, huh?" Tony grinned and carefully moved his left arm up to fully unbutton his shirt.

Stephen was not prepared for what he saw.

The glow of Iron Man's ARC reactor was iconic, integral to the operation of the suit. But the exact nature of how it worked wasn't known—made confidential for damn good reason. Yet Stephen, even after everything he had seen, could never have considered that it was inside Tony's chest. Once it was fully exposed Stephen stumbled forward in horror. The doctor in him screamed—the husband in him screamed; shit, the decent human being he had finally become screamed. Several questions raced in his mind before he finally settled on one.

"What the fuck am I looking at?!"

"Funny thing-" There was nothing funny about this. "-when the Ten Rings attacked the convoy, they used my weapons to do it. I got hit with a particularly nasty one that sent shards into my chest." Stephen noted the scarring the backed up Tony's story, but was once more focused on the circle of light over his heart.

"I mean Alanis Morissette couldn't have done better. Anyway, the shards were well on their way to tearing my heart to shreds but I was saved by Yin-by a doctor. Unfortunately, he couldn't get them all out; so, he rigged up a mechanism powered by a car battery to power an electromagnet to keep me going."

Stephen had to screw his eyes shut and take a deep breath. Then another. "Tony. Do you mean to tell me you had open heart surgery in an unsanitary cave surrounded by terrorists with what must have been insufficient anesthesia which resulted in them hooking up your heart to a goddamn car battery?!"

"Huh. That sounds incredibly traumatic once you put it that way-"

"Anthony Stark you should be dead! Between your injuries and the risk of sepsis and the shock and living in a cave with a gaping wound in your chest-!!" Stephen cut himself off and paced in a poor attempt to calm himself down. "And you refused the hospital?? No. No. Put your clothes back on we are leaving right the fuck-"

"No hospitals, Stephen," Tony said, calm in the face of Stephen's freak out.

"Tony you can't be serious—goddammit I'm-!" Stephen was already burying his face in his hands as the first sob bubbled up. Stephen had thought himself prepared for anything but he clearly wasn't.

"Oh no, nonononono, baby don't cry." Tony leaped off the bed to pull him into a hug. "I'm okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Fuck you, douchebag, I'm crying!"

"Jarvis, quick, what do I do?"

"Are you asking an artificial intelligence to advise you on human emotion, Sir?"

"Your sarcasm seems to be doing just fine!"

"Tony your quality of life-" Stephen trailed off.

"I know. I know."

Stephen swallowed back another sob and buried his face in Tony's shoulder. "Who knows how this will impact your heart and lungs long term? Shit, your lifespan?"

"Yeah, I know. But this is how the die was cast, sweetheart."

"Tony, please. We don't know how much shrapnel is left nor their position in your chest. We need scans, bloodwork to see if you've caught some kind of disease—god, that metal isn't even surgical grade-"

"I want you to do it. I only want you to do it," Tony interrupted.

"This is serious! You need to see a cardiologist."

"I thought you were the best."

"I am the best." Stephen scowled at him. "In my field. Although I'm a pretty effective businessman, who knew?"

"I did. You're intimidating. I'm pretty sure it's the cheekbones. Besides, can't you learn?"

"Are you seriously expecting me to just learn an entirely new medical specialty?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

Stephen rolled his eyes. He sighed. "…Fine. Give me a week. I do have a company to run, you know."

"That's my baby," Tony cooed.

"For the last time that 'Daddy' was a one time thing."

"Aw, but I nearly died!"

"Shut up we're going to sleep."

The scans revealed everything that Stephen had feared. The doctor, Yinsen, had done a spectacular job given the circumstances. He had saved Tony and kept him alive. Most people didn't realize that post-surgery was the real challenge, but Yinsen had gone above and beyond. He had given Tony hope and renewed focus. Stephen wished the man a speedy recovery. But there were several shards of metal far too close to Tony's heart that would be impossible to remove with current surgical techniques. Not even he dared make the attempt. And while magic was many things, miraculous in some ways, it wouldn't be enough. Tony's body wouldn't survive.

Fine. Next were the schematics for the improved reactor, not one made from literal scraps (god don't think about it). That was more Tony's realm; though, Stephen could follow along. He memorized every part and location of every piece of wire and made adjustments to the design based on his knowledge of the human body. At this point in time it was all he could do. He had quietly informed Zoe and Jackie of the changes and accommodations that would need to be made; Sofia remained blissfully unaware and it would stay that way.

Stephen felt the bags gaining weight under his eyes but years in the hospital had prepared him. The chill of the lab helped somewhat. He pulled up Tony's file.

"The results are back."

"Talk dirty to me after we play doctor," Tony said, smirking when Stephen huffed. He washed his hands at the sink and approached the medical chair currently holding his husband. Stephen pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a satisfying snap. Tony coughed. "Okay I was joking but I may have discovered something new about myself-"

"Keep being good and I'll let you do it to me in the kitchen."

"I have found a new lease on life and it is glorious."

Stephen's hand was a bit too big to reach fully inside but that's what tools were for. He allowed Tony to handle the reactors while he deftly disconnected the old one and readied the new one for insertion. "Hrm, that's quite a bit of discharge. I need to take a sample-"

"I got other samples."

"Focus, darling." Stephen finished cleaning and set the new reactor in its place. Despite the horrific situation, the glow was gorgeous. He allowed himself to place a lingering kiss on Tony's chest. "What are you going to do with the old one?"

"Eh, toss it?"

"I don't know…maybe we should keep it around. A symbol of what you've survived."

"That's morbid. I love it."

"Now. The results. Jarvis if you would?"

"Of course, Dr. Strange." A hologram of Tony's chest snapped into the space before them. The A.I. helpfully highlighted the shrapnel in question.

"I don't have a medical degree but that doesn't look great."

"No, it doesn't," Stephen drawled. "We'll need to take comparative scans on a frequent basis to start, but it looks like the reactor is doing its job."

"Well, yeah; I built it."

"And you are so talented. The rest of your physical injuries are merely an assortment of bruises that will heal without issue. Again, the real issue is that thing in your chest. Your lung capacity has been compromised and you are now quite vulnerable to pulmonary issues."

"Guess I really need to work on my cardio."

"Couldn't hurt. Your bloodwork, however, does concern me a bit. You're lacking in some nutrients but that's not surprising. The antibiotics and antivirals should clear out anything that snuck its way in. But what I'm worried about are your kidneys."

Tony's brow furrowed as he leaned forward to take a better look. "My kidneys? I mean, I hurt all over so it's possible I took a hit."

"Not like that. I thought it was stress, at first; then I thought it was some sort of infection. But something tells me," Stephen trailed off. "They're being overworked, to put it plainly. In layman's terms they're trying to clean up something that doesn't belong. I need to figure out the cause. But you feel all right?"

"I'm alive which is more than I could hope for," Tony sighed. "My chest hurts constantly and I wonder if it'll last forever."

Stephen wrapped his arms around Tony's waist and looked up at him. "Take all the time you need to adjust. You've earned that."

"No, I haven't."

"I—Tony?" Stephen frowned at the hard look in Tony's eyes.

"I've got some business to take care of."

Before Stephen could ask for clarification, Tony swooped down and pressed a firm kiss on Stephen's lips. Stephen relaxed immediately, let him take control and yank him onto the chair with him. "Tony-"

"I missed you so fucking much. I thought I'd never see you again. I thought I'd die, killed by my own fucking weapons and I'd leave you to deal with everything alone," Tony murmured between kisses. "Thought it was it for me just when I finally started to get my act together. When I finally started to care. Thought that what I've done was too little, too late."

"To-" Stephen let out a strangled gasp when he ground their hips together. Tony tightened his hold on his hip and thrust upward. Stephen really hoped the chair would hold.

"I promise you—I promise things will be better. I'll be better."

Stephen said something but he was uncertain he made any kind of sense. The grinding was desperate and inelegant and felt amazing to two men who had gone without for months. He whined, not even embarrassed, as the heat grew in intensity. Tony's teeth scraped the lobe of his ear and then his throat.

"I'll fix everything."

"Yes—fuck-!" Stephen groaned as he came—it almost took him by surprise. He hissed and shuddered from the tight grip on his hair as Tony chased after his own pleasure. This was his favorite part—Tony liked ensuring his partner had a good time first before he lost it. Tony had figured out Stephen enjoyed it even more if he was rough about it.

Stephen's attention was brought back sharply into the present by Tony's fingers digging into lower back as he rode out his orgasm. "So good. I love watching you," he panted against Stephen's neck.

"You're such a voyeur."

"There are worse things to get off on. You turn a pretty color." Tony's eyes, dark—so dark, took him in.

"Yes, well, I need to take a shower because I can't believe I came in my pants like a teenager." Tony preened, of course he did.

"I still got it."

"Sure. Come on, I can give you a bath." Tony sent him a thankful look.

"Might I suggest you sanitize the area, first?" Jarvis said, causing the both of them to jump.

"Good call—sanitation is important," Tony said with a leer on his face.

Stephen tried to hide his flushed cheeks. "My apologies, Jarvis. That was unbecoming-"

"I could make a joke here but I'll let it slide. Endorphins," Tony chirped.

"Tony. Bathroom, now. Dum-E." Stephen still sighed whenever he said the robot's name. He ignored Tony's smirk. "No, we'll handle clean up, thank you." The bot whirred in disappointment and its arm drooped.

"Aw, you hurt his feelings."

"I'll hurt your feelings. Move."

"By the way, Sir, I received confirmation that the materials you have ordered will be delivered to the mansion in an hour," Jarvis said.

Stephen paused as he ascended the steps to look down at his husband. "Ordered?"

Tony winked and replied, "I think it's about time you see how I escaped."

Chapter Text

"Oh, that's amazing."

"You know, if we were having sex that would have been crippling to my self-esteem," Tony drawled.

"No, no—I'm serious. It truly is an engineering marvel." Stephen had to admit seeing the process of Iron Man coming to life was pretty brilliant. Tony had reconstructed the old schematics that had been the basis for what he called Mark I, and then designed something far more sleek in its stead. He had said he was out of the weapons business, but he was putting his experience to good use in cramming as much artillery as possible into the prototype. Stephen allowed his fingers to touch the holograph and turned the figure in multiple directions. "Now run your plan by me again."

"Only if you don't get mad."

"Now why would I get mad? I am well known for my even temper and sympathetic nature."

"Is this the equivalent of you asking me if your slacks make you look fat? Because I am going to fail the shit out that test."

"Anthony-!"

"I'm going to build a high-tech, revolutionary machine of war and wear it to destroy the weapons Stane sold to murderous dictators and private militia."

Stephen nodded his head as he had expected that. "Okay. And?"

"And I'll be hunting him down like a dog. Not to commit any (more) felonies or anything. I just want to have a little 'talk.'"

"Mm, yes. Well, at the risk of being a gigantic fucking hypocrite-"

"You never cared about that before-"

"I don't suppose you could wait until we know more about the effects of having the ARC reactor in your chest? You know, before you attach it to a mobile tank and fly around the globe at mach speed?"

"I mean, I'm already having nightmares about it suddenly failing and my dropping dead-"

"What the fuck, Tony!"

"-but I can assure you I am mentally sound and trauma-free." Tony pointedly ignored Stephen's slack-jawed stare. "Moving on from that, I am being incredibly careful about this. Jarvis is running various simulations and I haven't been wrong about a math problem since an amusing incident in 1993 where I put a sigma in the wrong place like an amateur. In all fairness that was proooobably from mixing cocaine and some pills I still haven't been able to identify."-

"The longer we're together the more horrified I become and amazed you've lived this long."

"Babe, same. Too late now, at any rate. Not even Death can part us. We are the Sonny and Cher of late stage capitalism."

"They divorced. And Sonny died far before his time."

"Cher wishes she had your cheekbones. Gomez and Morticia, then."

"…How much sleep have you-?"

"I am running off of 5 Hour Energy drinks and I am hearing colors. Your voice looks as gorgeous as it sounds."

"Thank you. Jarvis, if you could keep an eye on this?"

"Of course, Doctor."

Stephen crossed his arms and considered the man before him. He had long noticed that the more outlandish Tony got the worse he hurt; Stephen had thought he had a good handle on the situation (no one spent months in a cave with terrorists and came out in good health), but judging from the jerkiness in Tony's movements and the trembling in his hands, he had failed. Considering his options, Stephen opted for the best.

He hugged him.

Tony's grip around his hip bordered on bruising and the other man's lips ran hot as he pressed them against Stephen's collarbone.

"I'm never taking this for granted. Never again," whispered Tony.

"I know; me, too."

"I want to stay with you in bed so badly. All those weeks in that goddamn cave and that's all I wanted." Tony's laugh cracked halfway through. "They had to come up with an entirely new category of intelligence for me, you know? It wasn't just sheer brain power, it was all the stuff that went with it. The neurological benefits, brain structure…you get it."

And Stephen did. It was what made him so good as a surgeon. It wasn't enough to have the smarts—he went to college and med school with plenty of bright people. But his advantage went into realms that simply couldn't be taught. Couldn't be achieved through practice. The dexterity and fine motor control and the neurological connections that made it possible all had to be there, and interact in ways that they had yet to even understand. It was why the loss of his hands had been so devastating. His theories and methods had been inextricably tied with his in-born ability. There was no separating them. Christine had tried so hard to understand but not even she had managed it completely. He had been his hands—and that was why they had to be taken away to make space for something else.

"And the down side is I can't turn it off. There is no turning it off," Tony continued.

"Mm. I thought Reed Richards was also in the same category-"

"I hear his name on your lips again and you can forget getting another watch for, like, a month."

"And I had recently read some of Dr. Bruce Banner's work-"

"Shush. I'm pouring out my poor, little heart to you and you decide to make me suffer."

"Isn't that why you proposed?"

"Well, yeah. And I'd do it all over again. Still, tell me how smart I am."

"The sheer magnitude of your brilliance leaves me in awe."

"That's the ticket."

Stephen chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Honey, in all seriousness, I'm not great at this sort of thing but I'll do my best to listen whenever you need to. You'll always have my full attention."

"And you'll always have mine. Especially when you-"

"Don't ruin the moment, Gomez."

"Oh thank God," Greene sighed when Tony stepped into the boardroom for the first time in months. Tony watched in amusement as Stephen's eyebrows shot upward and Greene suddenly found the painting on the opposite wall a fascinating portrayal of the human condition.

"Have you been bullying my Board, carinyo?" Asked Tony, wrapping an arm around his husband's waist. Stephen scowled.

"Greene exaggerates—he does that. I merely ensured that everyone remained focused." The look on several board members' faces told a vastly different story.

"Mrs. Stark is quite the taskmaster. I've had drill sergeants more lenient," Donovan laughed. He had been one of Tony's favorites and this cemented it. "Pretty sure Sergeant Rowlings would have dropped on one knee and proposed after that ordeal with Underwood."

"He was mistaken about several things. I suggested he address that," Stephen said with a sniff.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Stephen I am appalled. Merciless tormenting of an older man? I thought that was only for me."

"You're still convalescing I'll see to you soon," Stephen said.

"Ooh, I'll hold you to that. Okay, look alive—I'm only here to give you all an update on the next few months. Have a seat, everyone!" Tony plopped down into his hotrod red leather chair and patted a thigh. "You can sit right here, doll."

"You call me doll again and I'll make my position as Chairman and CEO permanent." Stephen sat primly in the chair to his left.

"It's that sense of humor that made me fall in love with you. Don't you just get a thrill when your spouse threatens you with cold-blooded murder?" Tony asked the room at large as he arranged his papers.

"…No-" began Chandler.

"Isn't Steph a gem?" Tony clapped his hands and said, "I want to say first that I am quite pleased with how things were run in my absence. I caught up with all of Stephen's reports and I think there are sizable profits to be made in the future. Once my doctor here clears me for duty, I'll get right to work on our upcoming line of consumer tech. No offense to Steve Jobs but, well, I'll do better. I've sent the preliminary designs to your email addresses so peruse that at your leisure. We are looking to introduce a tablet for personal use in addition to competing in the smart phone markets.

The real reason I'm here, however, is this." Tony unbuttoned his shirt, exposing the reactor. Shock rippled through the board room. Davids' jaw dropped and he immediately tried to lean over Stephen for a better look. Stephen's lip curled just enough that Tony briefly worried for Davids' future. Tony gave them time to react before raising his hands. It took a while for the room to settle into silence.

"You might have already guessed, and you would be right. This is a miniature version of the ARC reactor currently running my factories. It's how I got my ass out of Afghanistan."

"You built a reactor while kidnapped?" Chandler sputtered.

"Yeah. I had to cannibalize a bunch of missiles to do it, but basically."

Donovan laughed in sheer disbelief. "Incredible. You revolutionized a new source of clean energy from scraps."

"What, like it's hard?"

"Yes, actually. And it's in your chest?"

"This thing is keeping me alive, to be blunt." He didn't go deep into his medical condition, but when he was finished every one of them had realized the gravity of the situation. "And I know it doesn't need to be said but I'll go ahead and put it out there: this doesn't leave the room. If I find out there's been a leak I will be very disappointed in you. My wife, however, will be furious and I won't stop him."

Stephen smiled.

"I know many of you have been around when my father ran things—I am grateful you've trusted me to carry the torch, so to speak. I want to let you know that I do believe that his legacy is important. But, I've come to realize that this is no longer my father's company. All this time I was holding myself back—doing what I assumed he would approved of. Daddy issues aside I've come to realize that that's not a very healthy way to live one's life nor run an international corporation; so, expect more changes down the pipe. Stark Industries is mine and it's time to put that old bastard out to pasture."

"You mean 'rest in peace,' right?"

"Yeah, sure let's go with that."

Stephen looked at him with pride. It was so much better than any drug or shot of hard liquor.

The board wasn't the sole reason for flying back to New York. Tony hadn't stepped one foot in the old Stark Mansion since the funeral. He had a cleaning and landscaping crew keep things tidy, but other than that he had left the property alone. Standing in the foyer brought so many memories, more bad than good, up from the recesses of his mind. Stephen clasped his hand between his and stroked his fingers in soothing patterns.

"Do you ever think about using this place?" Asked Stephen.

"I got a couple of ideas, but for now, it's best to leave it. This way." Tony led him towards the East wing and down the stairs to the lower level. Howard had hosted several stag parties down here, with the billiard tables and accompanying cigar room serving as the centerpiece. Tony had long drained the cabinets of their alcohol, but the sight still made him lick his lips.

They went deeper. The basement was furnished but was never used as any sort of living space. Tony glanced around and froze.

Shit.

"They're gone," he whispered. He strode forward and examined the pile of boxes in the center of the room. At first blush it looked exactly the same, but even while drunk and at the height of grief he wasn't stupid. He'd left little tells to show if anyone had tampered with his parents' things. His mother's was fine, but Howard's-

"What's gone?" Stephen asked.

"The boxes of shit from Howard's lab. These aren't it—someone switched them out."

Stephen startled in surprise and joined him. "Who do you think would be able to do that? Who would even know to take these boxes specifically?" The mansion had been locked down tight; only Tony had the access to every area—and not with the normal lock and key. The cleaning crew were not allowed below a certain point—he'd have been notified. Tony paced, mind picking up and discarding lines of thought in rapid succession.

"There are two off the top of my head: one has dementia and the other is Stane."

"Why would—he's not an engineer nor an inventor. It would be counter-productive for him to sell off Howard Stark's secrets on top of weaponry." Hardware was one thing—giving out the blueprints with helpful notes in the margins was just stupid. Stane would want to keep his buyer's begging for more—not provide them with a Master Key.

"And yet here we are, my father's 'secrets' missing!" Tony tugged at his hair in frustration. Stephen had a point, as he usually did. Why would Stane or Peggy take his father's things? Both were smart—yet neither were scientists and Howard's projects would have been incomprehensible to them. That was just fact. No, something else was going on.

Tony pushed back his ire in the face of this roadblock. This was not optimal, but he'd overcome worse. Tony shook his head and began making his way through the basement, eyes sharp for anything else out of place. Stephen followed on his heels.

The basement was a record of his childhood. Old clothes, old projects, old toys. Tony couldn't help but smile at the sight of his old toy robot shoved in a crate of discarded toys and left forgotten. It was about fourteen inches tall with a simple grey, metal body and cylinder limbs. It had been the inspiration for Mark I. He plucked it out of the box.

"Hey, look. I haven't seen this in ages. I can't believe it's still here." Tony turned it over in his hands.

"Why am I not surprised? It's kinda cute, though." Stephen chuckled. He wrapped long arms around his waist and rested his chin on Tony's shoulder. The last of Tony's anger drained away.

"I loved this thing. One of the few gifts I got from Howard. Of course it came with a lesson: 'Stark men are made of-'" Tony stopped. He stared down at the toy in his hands.

"Tony? Tony, what is it?"

He ran his fingers across the places that held the toy together before a fingernail caught on a spot below the neck. A quick jerk popped the robot open. They stared at the contents. Three vials, an aperture card, and microfilm. Tony gently lifted one of the vials up to the light. The blue liquid swished innocently in the glass container.

"The hell?" Tony whispered.

"That's 16mm microfilm," Stephen noted. 

"And that card is a schematic for something," Tony continued. Aperture cards were once a popular means of record keeping in the engineering field. He'd gone fully digital but SI kept boxes and boxes of old cards locked in a vault. 

"Tony, what is this?"

"I have no idea, but we're gonna need a way to read them. The Aviation Division will have the equipment—we'll take care of that on the way in." 

Stephen pressed a kiss to his temple. Tony leaned against him for a moment before steeling himself. He carefully placed the vial back inside and snapped the toy shut.

They were silent on the way back to the Malibu mansion. Stephen glanced at him from time to time, eyes full of worry. Tony, well, supposed he should be. Between the Ten Rings and Obadiah's betrayal, that would have been bad enough. Now they were faced with a theft that must have occurred decades ago. Tony wouldn't have even caught it if he hadn't broken his self-imposed promise of never stepping foot inside the place ever again.

"Jarvis, it's come to my attention that I haven't been nearly as careful as I should have been," Tony announced as he began clearing off a table so Stephen could set up the microfilm.

"Sir?"

"Instead of his alcoholism I really should have picked up the Old Man's paranoia. We are implementing new security features, effective immediately. Compile a report for me pronto—I want this shit tighter than a Mother Superior's you-know-what. Babe, you got that?"

"It's microfilm, dear, not a rocket engine," Stephen said.

JARVIS was still compiling the terabytes of data necessary to bring his suit to life, so they had time. Tony allowed himself a moment to admire his progress. He had had a breakthrough, after an unfortunate icing incident that Stephen will never find out about, and the gold-titanium alloy looked to be the answer. Stephen, however, had scoffed at the hotrod red—shows what he knew! Tony was just relieved his husband was so supportive instead of being rightfully pissed that he was throwing himself back into danger.

"Jarvis, light 'er up. Let's see what Howard has to say." The hologram sprung to life, revealing the first of several hundred pages. Tony whistled. "Hey, check out that date. This is from World War II!…Hold on, am I seeing things?"

"Not unless I am, too. You didn't tell me your father was instrumental in the creation of the Super Soldier Serum," Stephen breathed as they flipped through the pages. "Project Rebirth?"

"That would be because I had no idea Howard was instrumental in the creation of the Super Soldier Serum. I knew he was part of the Strategic Scientific Reserve; I knew he was friends with Captain America and far too obsessed with locating the man after he disappeared. But this?"

"Those vials—you don't think-"

"I am thinking." Both men looked at the small, glass cylinders as if they contained a nuclear bomb rather than one of the greatest scientific achievements of the modern era. Captain America had been one of a kind, as far as anyone knew. The secrets of the serum had been lost with that scientist's assassination and then Roger's disappearance. That was the story.

But clearly it wasn't the entire picture.

While Tony's mind raced with the implications Stephen moved ahead. "Wait. Wait, do you recognize this?" The next document didn't have much, but Stephen pointed to the insignia stamped at the top. It was a ring of stars surrounding an eagle with spread wings.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division—well I'll be damned."

"More importantly, a Phil Coulson from said organization approached me after our phone call. He wanted to discuss your escape."

Tony cocked an eyebrow. "And why is this the first I'm hearing about it?"

"I thought you had enough on your plate and I could handle it.  I didn't want them bothering you." Stephen had the decency to look uncomfortable as he talked. Tony clicked his tongue.

"Uh huh. Just for that you're getting punished." He ignored Stephen's grumbling and turned his attention back to the text projected in front of them.

They spent the rest of the night perusing the scans. The deeper they went the more Tony felt as if his life had gone spiraling off the deep end. Things had been so simple this time last year. 

"They were all involved," Tony whispered. "Howard, Aunt Peggy, Stane. Fuck, they helped create SHIELD. All this time and none of them said anything. Even after Howard died."

"A car crash, right?" Stephen didn't look as if he believed his words.

"Yeah, babe. Really doubting that car crash story, now. Especially since just a week earlier he finishes that," Tony said, jabbing his finger at the serum.

"God," Stephen sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It was starting to grow long along with the stubble gracing his chin. Tony idly wondered if he could convince the man to keep it. "I'm beginning to understand some things myself." The last part wasn't directed towards Tony. The strangeness of it made him pause, but then he let it go. He had other problems right now.

"We need more information. This is a lot, and a damn good starting point, but it's now decades out of date."

"What do you want to do?" Stephen asked without hesitation.

"Wanna put a hold on playing vigilante so we can masquerade as secret agents instead?"

"You do love your role-play." Stephen hummed and gave a little shrug. "I think I'd make a sexy Bond girl."

Tony smiled. "Sweetheart, you'd be spectacular."

"Agent Coulson, please have a seat," Stephen said, directing him to the chair in front of Tony's desk. He was as Stephen remembered—aggressively nondescript. The expression on his face gave nothing away; he actually seemed pleasant if the minuscule smile was any indication.

"So this is the man you kept secret from me," Tony noted. He was in top form today. The creases of his three-piece were sharp enough to cut and his beard looked to have been shaped up with a ruler. To look at him one wouldn't even know he had spent months in a cave.

"Correction: this is one of the men I've been keeping secret from you," Stephen said with a wink. Tony gasped.

"You are so shameless! Well, don't keep me in suspense: have you been filming your trysts or am I gonna get angry?"

"What do you think?"

"That I'm going to be very entertained when I get home." Tony playfully held up his hands as if composing a shot. "Yeah, you'd look good in HD."

"Mr. Stark," even the man's voice was mild. "As you are no doubt aware, I am with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division-"

"Wow. That's something."

"Yes, we get that a lot."

"Have you considered workshopping something different? Are you taking suggestions-"

"No."

"Had to try! Would you care for something to drink?" Stephen watched in amusement as Tony reached down and held up a bottle of warm amber liquid. "It's probably 5 o'clock somewhere."

"I'm good, Mr. Stark. We're not supposed to drink on the job."

"Sounds terrible. SI has been rated highly in employee satisfaction. Just say the word and I can get you squared away, Agent. So," Tony haphazardly filled up a glass for himself, "not sure why you wanted to talk so bad. Between Homeland Security, the FBI, the CIA, and the NSA I'm pretty talked out. I can't see what else you can learn. And I distinctly remember telling your Johnson to fuck off a while ago."

"Those weren't the exact words used, Mr. Stark."

"They were heavily implied. And I'm saying them now. So…?"

"Just standard procedure, Mr. Stark." Coulson paused and looked at Stephen. "I'm afraid we will need to speak privately."

"Now Phil—can I call you, Phil?"

"I would prefer-"

"Phil, listen. Stephen is my rock, my North Star—he is the sun I follow across the sky. My muse, my peace, my passion. Those long months apart have been excruciating. Also? I'll tell him everything we talked about the moment you leave so it'd be pointless kicking him out."

To his credit Coulson merely sighed and began speaking, "The Ten Rings is a very dangerous organization, Mr. Stark. Their presence in Afghanistan has made an already tumultuous situation even more unstable," Coulson began.

"Yeah. I could tell."

"Our main concern is their fire power, to put it bluntly, and their ability to receive more."

"Homeland Security has already intimated that I let The Ten Rings sample the goods and this entire rigamarole is all theater —especially considering Obadiah Stane was my godfather and had a hand in raising me. Needless to say I'm very worried about the state of our union if they think my rich ass needs to go that far to get easy money. I was stunned and hurt at the accusations."

Coulson blinked. "Are you certain? Judging from the reports you were quite belligerent."

"Stunned. Hurt."

"It is not so far-fetched, Mr. Stark, when the only real answer you gave was building a suit of armor to escape a heavily fortified terrorist cell."

Stephen made no attempt to hide his stare as he watched. What was Phil Coulson's angle? He supposed spooking Tony with theories of terrorist involvement was one way to make the man play ball; that sort of tactic might work for a little while but not for long. What was SHIELD looking for?

"Phil, the only reason you and the alphabet soup brigade refuse to get off my ass is due to lack of evidence. At this point I'm expecting an interrogation from the goddamn YMCA."

"We have searched the area and have found no trace of this…suit."

Tony merely blinked in response, but Stephen knew him well enough to know that that had come as a surprise. He wasn't the only one. "Still waiting for you to get to the point. I have a lot of things to do today. Innuendo included."

"Do you recall conveying any information that has the potential to be used against the United States government and her people?"

"I did not."

"Provided the attack and kidnapping were genuine, did you provide any technology in exchange for your safety?"

Tony's smile was cold. "You keep this up and you'll hurt my feelings. Which, just so you know, is Stephen's job and he tends to get jealous."

"It's a problem," Stephen added. "I'm choosing not to work on it." Tony blew him a kiss and filled up his glass one more time.

"Yes, the reports did also mention Doctor Strange's aggression regarding perceived threats towards your person, real or imagined; the current theory is that it's pathological," Coulson replied with a hint of dryness—the first hint of genuine emotion they got from the man.

"Probably," Stephen hummed. "Please give Agent Everett Ross my regards."

"Mr. Stark, Doctor Strange, I hope you realize that SHIELD is not the enemy. We just want answers."

"You got your answers; the problem is you don't like them," Tony stated. They stared at each other—the moment drawing out uncomfortable and long as both sides assessed their next move.

"If you learn anything new-"

"I'll pass it along." The next bout of silence was more fraught than the last.

"Is that everything, Mr. Stark?" Coulson asked, finally.

Tony smiled. "You tell me, Agent."

Stephen watched the agent leave and allowed the tension to leave his muscles. The more they uncovered the more it became clear that The One Above All had sent him back not only to provide him more time and experience, but also *answers*. He had come into the whole superhero thing late in the game—literally right before Thanos' children attacked. The only information he'd had about The Avengers, about the community of Enhanced, was what had been cleared for public knowledge. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj had been, and still are, isolated; they only concerned themselves with the mystic and supernatural and nothing else.

He'd been ignorant; Stephen *loathed* that.

"You know what really hurt? Phil didn't want any of my organic apple cider." Tony finished off the bottle. "Fi and I slaved over a hot stove and everything. She loves cooking with me—it's precious."

Stephen chuckled. "He doesn't know what he's missing. How'd you get that to smell like alcohol, anyway?"

"I forgot about my stash in here and used one of the bottles. Smell lingered. I really liked it strong, huh?"

"Jarvis?" Stephen asked while Tony went to stand at the massive window, no doubt to ensure the SHIELD agent left the premises.

"Analysis complete, Doctor. It appears our friends left some presents in the system."

Tony whistled. "They have the nerve to bug *me*? Well, I'm kinda impressed at the audacity—and thankful they haven't changed that much from Howard's time. You know what to do: keep an eye on Bert Saxby there and sneak into their servers. Take it slow, J; no need to rush and I want to know everything. It's time to find out who our 'Number 1' is."

"Consider it done, Sir."

"And how goes your investigation, carinyo?"

"Nearly finished. Underwood and Edgefield are singing like birds and Jarvis has been wonderful in gathering the shipping manifests and reconciling inventory. We'll soon know exactly what and where Obadiah shipped SI's property."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Jarvis. 

"I am concerned that he has magical protection as well."

"No dice on his location?"

"None. He wasn't working alone, clearly, but we may be staring down a nasty rabbit hole in the near future."

"Then it's just as well I started our little club. That'd make a good first meeting."

"Do you want to let Coulson know when all of the evidence is compiled? Your father was part of their organization as a founding member."

Tony hummed in thought. "I think I'll reserve judgment for the time being. Let's stick to the rivers and the lakes that we're used to."

"Waterfalls, TLC, from the album CrazySexyCool. Released May, 1995." 

"One of these days I'll stump you."

"Keep thinking that. Your hope is precious."

"Anyway, Agent Ross is working out fine for now. We really should consider going easy on him."

"Tony, who do you think you've married?"

His husband winked in response.

The schematics for the improved Mark III cast the surroundings in blue light. Tony's mind whirred with ideas. His weapons could not remain in the hands of those who would misuse them. The challenge, as always, was constructing the bridge from present to future; he wasn't worried—he was a damn good engineer.

Stephen's reaction had surprised him—or rather, the lack of surprise. He'd taken one look and nodded as if he knew Tony wasn't going to stop there. Granted, Tony rarely stopped when he was fixated on something.

The ache in his chest was manageable now. The pain crested and lulled in a rhythm he had yet to figure out. He idly rubbed his upper sternum. He had to get this thing out of him—the ARC reactor was pretty and a technological marvel, but it was a giant bullseye and weak point he could do without. And he was already ten years older than Stephen; the last thing he needed was more of his life shaved off. But how? There must be something-

"Is this the best you can do?"

The color bled from Tony's face. He hadn't heard that voice since he was a teenager and screaming at the man. His breath came in short gasps as he slowly looked to his left. Howard, in his prime, stood beside the surgical chair dressed in a tan suit. His hands were jammed into his pockets and his slicked back hair shone in the fluorescent light.

"Is this the best you can do, boy?" The phantom asked. "Look at you, coasting on what I built. You're supposed to be smarter than I am—more creative. More powerful. Yet all you've been doing is wasting your life."

"I've been trying," Tony hissed to mask his flinch. Even after all these years the old defensiveness reared his head. "You got a lot of nerve to lecture me, old man."

Howard's smirk grew wider. "At this rate you won't even make it to my age before croaking."

"Go to hell-"

"Already there, son. Already there." Howards eyes flicked down to Tony's chest. "You gonna do something about that or roll over?"

"Working on it. Turns out human biology can only survive so much."

"Then become more than human."

The words drew Tony up short. Howard canted his head to the side as if inspecting something under a microscope. Tony had always loathed that look.

"If the point of failure is human biology, become more. After all, I told you, didn't I? 'Stark men are *made* of iron.'"

Tony stared at him. He thought he saw his breath, like those long stretches of time in the cave. Even now he felt the phantom pains of the knife ripping him open. He never wanted to be that vulnerable again-

"Sir? Sir?" Jarvis' voice made him look away from his father for a moment. "Sir? Are you well?"

"I-" Tony began, only to stop when he saw Howard gone. The lights seemed brighter than ever.

"Sir, may I ask who you were talking to?"

Chapter Text

Tony groaned as he woke up. He had had trouble falling asleep last night given their plans later on today, but waking up shivering at 5 a.m. was goddamn ridiculous.

"Jarvis, are you sure the air isn't on the fritz? This keeps happening," Tony croaked. Stephen's eyes flickered behind his eyelids—still deep in an REM cycle the lucky asshole—and Fi was sprawled atop the covers, but under Cloak, mouth open. It lifted its lapels part way in curiosity before settling down once more.

"It's at your preferred settings, Sir; although, I am picking up unusually low temperatures." Yeah, no fucking kidding.

"Just cut it off, I'll see to it later." Tony shoved off the covers and rolled into a seated position. He buried his toes in the soft rug that spanned underneath the bed and allowed his mind to wander. "What's on the docket, today?"

"Your appointment with Potomac Springs Retirement Home is later on in the morning, provided a favorable evaluation from the attending physician. Doctor Strange will then be in Upstate New York with Doctor Palmer and the young miss for his medical conference. They will depart in the afternoon for an overnight stay at the resort before his talk in the morning," came the prompt response.

"Well then, better get to work." Tony's skin prickled from the lingering chill.

Hours later, he and Stephen stood in entryway of a Washington, D.C. retirement home. It was just as Tony remembered, filled with beige and generic furniture with just enough of "Live Love Laugh" couture that would make even a soccer mom cringe from her minivan. The nurse smiled warmly at him and Stephen when she set down the headset.

"Mr. and Mr. Stark, thank you so much for waiting. She's having a good day today and is happy to see you."

Tony bared his teeth and allowed his eyes to crinkle just-so. Judging from the slight flush it was still as effective before he became an honest man. "Denise, was it? Thank you so much for checking up on her for me. It's been too long and as my husband is a distinguished neurosurgeon I have some hope…" Denise nodded and clucked her teeth in sympathy.

"Of course, Mr. Stark, of course. We must always have hope."

"Indeed. It's a long shot, and I know you normally have strict rules. I am very glad for that, but if our visit can run a little long I would be so appreciative."

She hesitated and tapped her nails on the desktop. "I do understand, Mr. Stark, but there are strict protocols."

"And I absolutely agree there should be. But my husband has been studying the effects and causes of dementia as part of his work at Metro General and—just…it would mean the world."

"Would it run very long?"

"Not at all," Stephen interrupted, voice smooth. "It is our intention that his aunt and godmother be treated with the upmost dignity. From what I can tell your facility truly is top notch. Metro General could learn some things from you all about proper palliative care."

Now she was flushing with pleasure. "Why thank you! We do try our best over here in our own little way."

"Not at all."

"If it's for a good cause…and Mr. Stark is a long time visitor and approved…I don't see the harm."

"Thank you very much. And may I just say you have very good taste in Psalms?" Stephen continued, gesturing to the framed scripture by the phone. "Number 84, correct? I have a preference for number 62 myself. 'My soul waits for God alone. He alone is my rock and my salvation. Trust in Him at all times, O people-"

"-'Power and love belong to God'. Finally, a proper man of faith. Y'all head right on in." Denise's eyes light up. "And stop your teasing, I'm on to you both! Take all the time you need, I'll personally make sure you aren't interrupted."

"Thank you, truly. That eases my mind. You take care of yourself," Tony said as they walked towards the doors.

"God bless, Misters Stark," she said as she buzzed the doors open.

"…Man of faith, huh?" Tony asked the moment they were alone.

"Didn't specify which and in what role. You could say it was divinely inspired."

"Wow. I can't believe you subjected my ears to that awfulness—nearly divorce worthy."

"Damn. And here I am wearing your favorite pair today."

Tony choked and gave him a look that had no business being in a place of rest. "Not the-"

"Yup." Stephen popped the final sound. Tony adjusted his tie.

"If I have to face my elderly aunt with an ere-" Tony cleared his throat and smiled when a nurse with a cart rolled by. "How is it you've gotten worse while I was gone?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all keep doing what you're doing, babe." They made it to the room, finding the door open as well as the windows to let in the early summer air. Tony knocked once on the door frame and entered.

He had had many memories of "Aunt" Peggy. She had been his hero, in a way. Whenever she was around Tony felt braver—didn't feel Howard's continual disappointments as keenly. The dementia had come as a heavy blow and a heavy surprise. And now the blankets that covered her swamped her form and highlighted how birdlike her bones had become. Every time he visited she looked smaller and smaller somehow. Tony supposed that had been part of the reason why he had avoided it for so long. It was hard staring at such a blatant representation of mortality and human frailty.

Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. Tony hadn't ever really feared Death—he'd chased it if he wanted to be honest with himself. But losing his mind? That was true terror.

He set the flowers on the bedside table and strode forward until he stood facing her. He found his spine straightening a bit—Peggy had a way of bringing that out in a man. He respected that.

"Now isn't this a lovely surprise? Hello, dear. And who is this handsome gentleman?" She sounded herself, then. Voice lighter with an underlying trembling quality, but herself.

Tony gestured for his husband to take a seat. "This is Stephen. I managed to trick him into marrying me."

"Nonsense," Stephen said with a smile as he carefully grasped a wrinkled hand. Peggy nodded in greeting. "I'm waiting for him to have an untimely accident. He is surprisingly hard to get rid of."

"Oh I'll never leave and neither will you."

"Now this is a surprise," Peggy croaked. The nurse had been right—today was an exceptionally good day. Her eyes were clearer than usual. "But then, even Howard eventually got himself enraptured."

"Now I hate to bring business into this but best strike while the iron's hot and you're still coherent," interrupted Tony.

Stephen quirked an eyebrow. "Even I'm not so gauche as to harass an elderly woman."

"Oh, I don't mind all that. Better than my poor kids—they get all teary-eyed and can barely speak. They stare at me and see how I used to be. Sharon is taking it the worst." Peggy gave an unfeminine snort and arranged her blankets. "Are you two still arguing?"

"Haven't spoken to Sherrie since 2002 and it's going to stay that way. She knows what she did."

"You two are the most stubborn…Now, you didn't just visit to have me meet your beau."

"Mm. I wanna show you something." Tony dug something out of his pocket and placed it on the cart holding her breakfast. The disc was made of metal and glass and shone in the natural light. "Do you remember Jarvis?"

"Of course I do. Lovely man—shame he rooted for Manchester United but everyone has flaws."

"It was also the name of a project of mine."

Peggy's eyes grew distant, and Tony worried for a moment he pushed too far, but then she nodded. "A…computer?"

"Indeed, ma'am," Jarvis spoke from the device. Peggy startled.

"My word! The things you come up with, Anthony!"

"Jarvis is pretty special. He handles all sorts of things for me. Keeping track of my appointments, reconciling my various expenses, helping Steph rule my company with an iron fist—you know, normal things. He's also pretty handy at, say, interfering with video and audio signals in retirement homes."

Peggy licked her lips. "Is he, now?"

"And he just loves hopping into various kinds of government mainframes and servers. Including the super top secret sort."

Peggy patted the blanket on her legs, but the look on her face cleared away any kind of doubt how she managed to succeed in a field that was hyper-masculine as a feature. "I'm sure Jarvis is quite useful. We could have used something like him."

"Oh he really is. And I bet you all would love that, wouldn't you?"

"If you are asking whether I have regrets, I assure you I have plenty. There are many things I…well, the time for that has long gone, hasn't it? You had better ask what you want—who knows how long I'll be good for it."

"SHIELD. Jarvis is picking his way through the files but there are millions and I thought it'd be more prudent to get some direction. First of all, my parents-"

"Were killed, as I'm certain you've figured out. But I won't tell you more than that."

Tony's jaw clenched. "And why is that?"

"It's too dangerous. I've had to do so many things—some I'm not proud of, many I'd do again even despite my conscience. But keeping you away from him? No, I'll not have that on my head."

Tony filed the small bit of information away and continued, "…I'll find it, eventually. Howard had already left me a present so I got a place to start."

"You've become smarter than me by the time you turned 7 years old—I have no doubt. But I won't be the one to put you in their radar, love. I won't."

Tony leaned back with a sigh and examined the woman before him. The spine still made of steel. Who knows how long she'd have even that?

"What will you tell me? That SHIELD is working for the greater good? Haven't you heard about slippery slopes, Peg?"

"I could have written the book on them, dear boy."

"You took my father's research before his body even went into the ground. I want it."

Peggy's eyes traced across his features. For a moment, she looked sad. Then, she said, "Have your Jarvis search for 'Arno.'"

Tony froze, eyes widening. Stephen glanced between them, unsure, but relaxed at Tony's raised hand. "…Thanks, Peggy." He sighed. "He'll get right on that. One last thing. Our timing isn't exactly coincidental—I've taken the liberty to…acquire…your medical files. Which is a federal offense of some kind and Steph was a little irate-"

"That's a way to look at my reaction." Stephen ignored Tony's playful kiss. "But to continue I am a neurosurgeon and do have some experience in working with the brains of those afflicted with various forms of dementia. The literature is, unfortunately, lacking; however, I noticed something…off with your scans. There are multiple forms and causes for dementia. Alzheimer's is the most well-known but other types include decline from repeated trauma to something that is the equivalent of TDP-43 buildup. It's actually quite fascinating when one looks at the autopsy reports of the elderly who died of cognitive decline and the relationship between hippocampal sclerosis-"

"He's saying your scans show foul play. The protein buildup is easily missed because it is a cause of several types of dementia and cognitive decline and the only way to really study it is from corpses. But even when controlling for all that there's been odd…jumps in the amount. Weird scars. Steph pointed it out to me."

"It is merely a hypothesis. However, the sudden onset and severity combined with your strange-" Stephen side-eyed Tony at the barely muffled snicker. "-bouts of lucidity, even in an area where much is still yet to be understood is…well."

Peggy blinked slowly, then she smiled, slow and coy. "Oh darlings, in my line of work spies rarely make old bones. Do you really think I missed something like that? I've angered a lot of people to get where I am and a quick, dignified death was never in the cards. The only thing I can do now is…reap."

Silence filled the room before her eyes grew hazy and her smile grew bright. "Oh, Howard? Where did you pop up from?"

"Just…just wanted to chat a bit. But I gotta head out—get back to the grindstone, and all that," Tony answered. He clasped his hands together to hide their shaking.

"I'd tell you that you spend too much time at those companies of yours, but that'd be hypocritical, wouldn't it? Give my love to Maria and little Arno."

Tony huffed and nodded. "Yeah…yeah, I will."

Stephen waited until the door shut behind the nurse and turned to his husband. "Arno?"

"An old nickname. Mom was originally going to name me that but somehow it became Anthony, one of Howard's middle names. I still got called Arno by everyone in the family but Howard up until I was a teenager. Just before I went off to M.I.T. I started insisting they call me Tony instead. Arno seemed…childish and 'Tony' sounded more mature. And I figured Howard would approve. You know how it is—you think you know everything at that age."

"Interesting. I did know everything and still do."

Tony scoffed and offered up his left arm for Stephen to hold. "That doesn't surprise me one bit, carinyo. Not even Rhodey knows that, so you'll have to keep it secret." 

"My lips are sealed." As they walked out of the care facility Stephen couldn't help but ask, "Do you forgive her?"

"Hard to say. People are complicated; messy. And I haven't been a saint myself. Besides, even if I wanted to 'punish' her, having your brain turned into a mass of scar tissue is more than anything I could have ever done."

"I see," Stephen murmured.

"Maybe it's because I'm getting older. I am incredibly mature now."

"You're as young as you've ever been." They leaned into each other, barely noticing the awkward swaying in their walk.

Tony laughed. It was short, however, and lasted mere fractions than usual. After a few moments, he murmured, "…I know I've wasted too much time; I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world…"

Stephen's lips twitched upward. "…And fool enough to think that's what I'll find."

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Stephen didn't often question Tony, believe or not, but he knew they were about to step on an emotional and psychological minefield. Between the time it took for JARVIS to stealthily take advantage of Peggy's tip and downloading it onto the Mansion's servers, Tony had swung into borderline hyperactivity. Stephen had expected as much.SHIELD had done good, that was undeniable. It had done plenty of not good; but, considering their enemies were amoral, megalomaniacal, and all-too-willing to step over piles of corpses if need be…well. That would require a degree of contemplation than he was willing to give right now, especially as SHIELD activity had no doubt gotten Howard and Maria Stark killed, Peggy Carter in suspicious cognitive decline, and Tony's company hacked. It was also their own loose set of morals that had SHIELD performing the equivalent of Operation Paperclip; and, well, the chickens had roosted.

In light of what he knew now, the data dump that had brought the agency to an inglorious end in the previous timeline made far more sense. At that time, he had woken up on one of his rare days off to frantic reporting of giant aircraft crashing in the Potomac with who knows how many dead and missing and oh, by the way, there was a secret organization that had given shelter to Nazis? Only they didn't realize that came with another secret society even more fanatical than fucking Nazis? And then that bizarre hearing with The Avengers telling everyone they were above being checked because they were needed—well, no. Now that he thought about it that had been The Black Widow. Tony's PR (he knew his husband well enough to know he would have had several thoughts about the entire travesty) had given the typical "no comment" and "not involved." Not that anybody believed that because of course. Ah, well, with Tony and JARVIS combing through SHIELD archives it would only be a matter of time before they found everything. Stephen knew he needn't worry that that would be handled much better than in the past.

He was all for transparency, but there was such a thing as giving people too much too quickly with context that not only was nonexistent, but totally muddled. Hours upon hours had been spent covering and analyzing the leak and all it had served to do was overwhelm and confuse everyone, incite the political horseshoe that was the far-right AND left, and get people killed. The sudden rash of mysterious deaths the months afterwards made it all worse. Even he had to give up understanding it all. If he could have told Tony about it he wouldn't have been very coherent despite the photographic memory. And then a city in Sokovia floats and crashes as if shit hadn't been crazy enough; and then the Avengers fall apart leaving hundreds of millions of dollars worth of property damage  and quite a few injured and dead in their wake. Messy was far too insufficient a word.

"It's ready, Sir."

"Scan it first, Jarvis," Stephen interrupted Tony just as the other opened his mouth. "I trust you to discern what's particularly…sensitive."

"Steph, really?" Complained Tony.

"Jarvis was kind enough to warn me before he showed me your ransom video—I didn't listen. I'm not making that mistake with you. He has good sense."

"Naturally, Doctor," Jarvis said before going quiet.

"You know I'm okay now, right?" Tony murmured, leaning against Stephen's side and pressing his lips against the shell of his ear.

"Having perfect memory is a curse, sometimes. I still see your face as clearly as in those first moments." Tony answered by squeezing his arms.

"I have finished my analysis. 'Arno' contains several hundred files of Howard Stark's notes regarding his previous and current projects up until his…"

Tony frowned. "Jarvis…"

"I'm afraid, Sir, Peggy Carter possessed incontrovertible evidence of your parents' passing."

Stephen bit his lip while Tony sucked in a sharp breath. It took him a moment to answer. "What sort of evidence?"

"Of the video variety, Sir."

"Jesus fuck—shit. Okay, um, store that and his project notes on the private private server for further review. What else?"

"The project containing the most activity was in relation to the ARC Reactors. According to the notations, they weren't quite finished. I believe this will be most helpful with your recent diagnosis-"

"His recent what??" Stephen whirled in his chair to see Tony staring hard at one of his hot rods.

"…Sir, am I to presume that you have not, in fact, informed your husband of your most recent blood tests?"

"Anthony Edward Stark-!"

"Oh god he broke out the full name-" groaned Tony.

"Did you seriously hide important medical information me??"

"I…didn't want you to worry? And I was on top of it, promise!"

"Does this have to do with the fact that your libido has taken a nose dive these past few weeks? Because if so you haven't been on top of anything; me, included!"

"Holy shit, Steph. I knew you were mean (and I enjoy it), but-"

"Anthony, please. I wore lingerie to a goddamn old folks' home why do you think I even bothered?"

"And now I'm strangely touched-"

"You won't be touched by any Strange for a long, long time if you don't tell me the truth!"

"Sir, I must admit I may be experiencing the feeling of 'discomfort,'" Jarvis interjected. Tony beamed.

"Look at you, you marvel of human genius and potential! Buy yourself something, you have earned it!…And something expensive for Steph, too, before they find my body washed up on the beach."

Stephen was still glaring at Tony as he said, "Congratulations, Jarvis, on this impressive milestone. I'm happy to have played a part. But my urge to shout at Tony is rising."

Tony grumbled something suspicious under his breath before he sighed. "Okay, so when you said there was something up with my kidneys I had Jarvis start a new protocol where he monitored my blood samples and compile the results."

"I'm somewhat mollified by this proactive approach. Continue."

"And, as expected, you were right. Not only was I suffering from  chronic renal damage, but it was…compounding…during the connections with the suit."

"Do you mean the same suit I wanted you to test extensively? To ensure there were no side effects caused by the high energy usage? On a mechanism that literally keeps you alive?"

"Carinyo, love; my heart still beats because of you, not this cold, impersonal bit of science."

Stephen pursed his lips and tried to shove down the warmth growing in his chest and the tightening in his lower belly. Tony's look turned smug. Stephen threw up his hands.

"Goddammit I hate that that works-"

"Love ya, babe! But, yeah. It's the Palladium."

"Do you have any idea what heavy metals do on the kidneys??"

"I did a bit of research-"

"Palladium is non-biodegradable and lasts a very, very long time. The kidneys will keep recycling your toxic blood until they fail entirely. I would put my money on Acute Tubular Necrosis, which is a condition where the tubules filtering your blood die and rot and at that point nothing can be done to reverse the damage. On top of that it will be a slow painful death filled with gastrointestinal issues, mood swings and behavioral issues, chronic pain, brain fog and other neurological defects, fatigue, depression, liver issues (and your liver is already in trouble), high blood pressure which probably caused the impotency-"

"I would have preferred we not talk about that last part can we get back to the cell rot?"

"-and then the poison will have spread through your soft tissues and possibly collected in your bone marrow. Even if the problem is resolved quickly that will have some long term effects. Your immune system could have been shot, for starters." Stephen rubbed his hands over his face. "Thank god it was caught. Tony, left for too long your kidneys would have been permanently compromised and that's the last thing you need, quite frankly. It is a marvel Jarvis managed to catch it, considering how unreliable testing is at the current time."

"I can't take all the credit—Sir's circumstances are unique and the element was an obvious starting point," Jarvis said.

"Nonsense. Design a shiny new supercomputer for yourself and make Tony build it."

"I'll be sure to do so, Doctor."

Tony said, "So, hey, while I'm thrilled you aren't yelling at me (anymore), you seem calm about my impending demise. If I don't find a solution I'm…"

"I know you will." And that wasn't because he had known Tony in the future. "All you've done since we've met is astound me and beat the odds. I'll worry about keeping your body in as good a shape as possible. You do what you do best."

Tony swallowed and cleared his throat. "Oh darling, now we really need to strike while the iron is 'hot'-"

"Focus, dear. Especially as it could have effects on your sperm."

"Huh. I should wear a warning. Who knew I was so toxic-"

"Britney Spears, 2003, In the Zone. Won a Grammy. It's as if you aren't even trying anymore. Now. Jarvis, be sure to mark Howard's files on the improved ARC reactor."

"If you think teasing me is going to slow me down do I have news for you-"

"Sir, before you get too excited, there is another video in the file. It appears to have been a digitized version of an old film reel. It's your father."

"Oh, no. I'm in a pretty good mood right now and feeling very inspired so I'm going to avoid that can of worms like the maladjusted individual I am. Let's go over his numbers instead."

Stephen could only shrug at one of JARVIS's cameras. He left his human father to die alone, after all, and hasn't even seen his immortal one for millennia—he wasn't in a position to lecture. As Tony pulled up a digital scan from one of Howard's journals (SHIELD no doubt had kept the physical copies somewhere), something unexpected occurred.

JARVIS completely and utterly disobeyed his creator.

A screen popped up on the holo-table, showing a film reel of Howard Stark, greyed but carrying a charisma that Tony must have inherited. "I'm Howard Stark, and everything you'll ever need for the future can be found right here-" Stephen blinked rapidly as he watched the man on screen go over his lines with varying degrees of success before a large display of some sort of complex. The technicolor betrayed the true age of the reel despite some enhancement that occurred when it was archived. Tony, on the other hand, had frozen; his eyes remained on the scan he was examining.

"J, what the hell is that?"

"I believe it prudent for you to watch, Sir."

The next time Tony spoke it held an undercurrent of anger. "J, I thought I was pretty clear. I don't want to hear anything Howard has to say."

"It's very important, Sir."

"This is your last warning, I'm serious."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sir."

"You have picked a hell of a time to live out your Hal-2000 fantasies but-!"

"Tony." Howard Stark addressing the camera drew Tony up short. Stephen also found himself transfixed. "You're too young to understand this right now, so I…thought I'd put it on film for you." The suit jacket had vanished and his tie had loosened. He gestured to the model behind him—Stephen now recognized it as the old Stark Expo.

"I built this for you. And someday you'll realize that it represents a whole lot more than just people's inventions." The shot panned across the fake trees and bodies of water—across miniature buildings. "It represents my life's work. This is the key to the future. I'm limited by the technology of my time; but, one day you'll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world."

Howard paused, and Tony stopped breathing along with him. Not even the mansion falling down around his ears could have made him turn away. The stern, domineering figure found in various photographs and documentaries had become slumped against the table. The lamplight masked the true time of day, but it must have been late.

"What is, and always will be, my greatest creation… …is you." The film ended.

Tony stared at the now white screen but Stephen doubted he saw it. He swallowed—he blinked in rapid succession but it must have been futile enough for him to squeeze his eyes shut and leave them closed. When he bent forward to cover his eyes with a large, calloused hand all Stephen could do was hold him close.

"It's all right, Tony. Everything will be all right."

"What is, and always will be, my greatest creation… …is you."

Howard's voice echoed through the lab as Tony flipped through the digital journals, staring almost sightlessly at the familiar handwriting and drawings. Stephen had teleported, reluctantly, to New York with the girls in tow. Jackie and Zoe would enjoy a holiday in Paris while Sofia would join her father and Christine at a luxury resort in the Adirondacks.

His notes lay unfinished—indeed, the 70s would have had nothing even close for Howard to test his theories. He had gone as far as he could and trusted Tony to go ever further. Further, perhaps, than humanity could dream of.

"What is, and always will be, my greatest creation… …is you."

Tony had never wanted a drink so badly in his life. But the Diet Coke would have to do. The ice clinked in the glass as he went over the formulae. Technically sound, of course they were, but as Howard said there was something missing. Tony felt it, too, in his gut. He switched to the screen holding the layout for the Stark Expo. They had the actual model in storage somewhere. Maybe in LA. It would be a pain to dig it out but that was the best place to look. The fear that had pulsated in the back of his mind had dissipated. When JARVIS had first shown him the results he had been…well, not terrified, but a feeling of doom had settled over his shoulders. The thing keeping him alive was slowly killing him. There was a poem in there, somewhere. No wonder Death had been laughing at him the entire time. She had known.

A beep and then Jarvis spoke, "Sir? You wanted me to alert you if there had been any more inconsistencies within SHIELD's current mission profiles."

Grateful for the distraction, Tony rubbed his eyes and straightened up with a crack in his spine. That had been another thing. Something was (somehow more rotten) within the State of SHIELD, but Tony couldn't quite understand what it was. Some files and mission parameters didn't quite…work. Tony didn't have the whole picture and had only discovered the agency recently, so he had little to go off of; however, something tinged at the edge of his consciousness and he had learned to listen to it.

"There's nothing overtly different about it—I was concerned due to the coordinates and date."

"Oh? Well don't keep me in suspense. Pull 'er up, J."

A map of the contiguous United States appeared before JARVIS zeroed in on a mountainous region in Upstate New York. Tony's brows furrowed and he squinted. "Wait a minute—those are the coordinates?"

"I'm not mistaken. It's only a brief sentence-"

"That's an order. Coordinates, date, time—that's an order for something. J, call Steph, now."

"Calling."

Tony paced as they waited for the call to connect. Every second that passed his heart rate began to tick upward. Before Tony lost it Christine's cheerful voice answered.

"Sorry, Tony! Stephen had to turn off the music before you found out about his love for 'I Want It That Way."

"We are no longer friends, Palmer! You can walk to the-!"

"Stephen. I need you to portal. Now," Tony interrupted, voice clipped. 

Stephen didn't answer for a moment before he answered, "I'm driving-"

"Then pull over and do it! Now!"

"What's-" Stephen's voice cracked and faded.

"Jarvis? Up the signal!" Tony snapped.

"It's not on our end, Sir. The Doctor is in a mountainous region with tunnels. Connectivity would be poor at best-"

"No fucking shit that's what I would do if—! Fuck, get the suit ready and keep trying them!"

Never had seconds seemed so long. It was all he could do to stay still as the titanium alloy pieces came together.

"Come on…comeoncomeoncomeon-" This was too slow. Once again his best wasn't good enough.

"What is, and always will be, my greatest creation… …is you."

"I've got them, Sir."

"Steph??" Tony cried.

"Sorry, there was a tunnel. We're on a mountain road there's nowhere to pull over. Give me a moment to let this motorcyclist pass and we'll stop."

"A motorcyclist?" Jarvis asked as the suit finally, finally, came online. 

"What is it, J?" Tony was flying out and up from his garage in a roar of acceleration. He twisted so hard mid-air he nearly wrenched his back before oriented himself eastward and shot towards New York. The resulting sonic boom must have been window rattling but Tony was past caring. At his current speeds it would be less than half an hour if he didn't give a shit about how his body handled the g-forces.

Human biology—point of failure.

"Sir, your parents-"

"I swear to God you had better not tell me what I think you are!"

"It was a motorcyclist who-"

There was a loud pop (tire, perhaps) and Christine shrieked. Broken glass.

The crunch of metal.

Chapter Text

Stephen had grown lax.

It had been a gradual thing as time passed. Tony's abduction had come and gone, and he had more answers and knowledge and power than ever before. The once constant feeling of ever-so-slight wrongness was settling into contentment. He had been lonely, before. Even when he was flying high in his surgical career; even as he found new purpose in the Mystic Arts. But now there was…Happiness.

Stephen had downgraded his sports car to something more sensible and comfortable. The trauma from his accident had abated. He had gotten used to cars once more with Happy and Tony in the driver's seat, but had gradually begun to go on his own. The trips had become longer and longer until, finally, he hadn't minded when Christine asked him to take over driving while she rested from an extra shift in the ER. It had been all hands on deck, apparently. More importantly, the resort that would hold the talks looked spectacular, and it was high time he and Christine had a weekend trip with full spa treatment. He wasn't as vain as Tony could be but he wanted to get a head start on a proper skincare regimen. And if he was honest with himself he had missed his work. The opportunity for him and Christine to share their research was too good to let pass. Sofia bounced in her seat in the back, watching the scenery fly by her window.

"-tell me why?" sang Christine.

"Ain't nothin' but a hear~ta~ache-" Cloak, now as a fashionable jacket, tapped the rhythm against his chest.

"Te~ll me why~?"

"Ain't nothin' but a mi~sta~ke—tell me why?"

"I never wanna hear you say~"

"I. Want. It. That-"

The ringing of his cell interrupted their singing and he jolted. "Who is it?" He may have gotten more comfortable driving but he never took his eyes off the road, never went above the speed limit, and always kept his hands at a 10-2 position.

Christine peered at the screen. "It's Tony."

"Tony? Shit, turn off the music!"

"Aww, are we ashamed of our devotion to the Backstreet Boys?" Christine teased but she did as he asked. "AJ would be so disappointed. You do realize you have a type?"

"Hush you and answer the phone."

"If it's 'phone sex,'" She mouthed the last words so Sofia couldn't hear them. "I'm disowning you both."

"He knows we're driving right now, go on."

"Okay, okay…Sorry, Tony! Stephen had to turn off the music before you found out about his love for 'I Want It That Way.'"

Stephen's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. They exited a curve and the shadows lengthened from the trees lining the steep slopes. He shouted, "We are no longer friends, Palmer! You can walk to the-!"

"Steph… I…ed you to por… Now," Tony's voice crackled. Christine frowned and began to twist the cell in various directions.

"Bad signal," she said. "I think he said, 'portal?'"

"Yeah, I think so? Tony, my hands are a little occupied. I'm driving," Stephen began only for his husband to cut him off.

"Then…and…t! Now!"

"What's-" The sky around them vanished as they entered a tunnel. The orange lighting cast eerie glows within the interior. Sofia strained to see what they were doing in the front seat.

"And it's gone," Christine sighed. "He sounded weird, something up?"

"Not that I'm aware of. We'll try again when we get out. You want to hear your dad, don't you?" Stephen directed his question to Sofia. She beamed and nodded her head so fast her hair fell across her face. The sudden roar of a motorcycle engine made his ears ring. Christine scrunched her nose in displeasure as she looked behind them.

"Ugh, figures. There've been two groups of bikers so far and it's only been an half an hour." 

"Since when do you not like bikers?"

"I've seen one too many skin grafts."

"Huh. You know I used to ride around the backwoods."

"Proves my point, country boy."

"Excuse you," Stephen huffed. He glanced at the rearview but the bright light from the motorcycle headlight almost blinded him. He couldn't see shit. "Asshole."

They cleared the tunnel and Christine set about finding the best angle to increase the bars. Stephen was glad Stark Industries was coming out with its own offering. He may be fucking Tony already but he would have promised all kinds of obscenities to get a cell with decent coverage.

"Can't you magic up something?" She complained.

"For the last time it doesn't work that way AND I'm not your personal Swiss Army knife-"

"Ooh, we're connecting."

"Steph??" Tony now sounded frantic and that was enough for him to begin taking his foot off the pedal. He glanced at his surroundings. Sheer drop past a guardrail to the left and a wall of rock to the right. Unease made him glance at the rearview again. The motorcycle engine was almost distracting. He finally took one hand off the steering wheel to reach towards his pocket. He had a habit of not wearing his sling ring when not on "sorcerer" business; it had been out of necessity before, when his knuckles would swell and ache if he forgot to take it off.

He answered, "Sorry, there was a tunnel. We're on a mountain road there's nowhere to pull over. Give me a moment to let this motorcyclist pass and we'll stop." Doing so right in the middle of the road wasn't great but it would have to do. Sofia whining made him pull his gaze from the bike's headlight to glance at his daughter's face in the rearview. Her eyes had dilated to nearly pitch and her fangs had elongated. "Darling-?"

A loud pop and he lost control. Christine screamed and Stephen flashed back to that moment—to the car crash that ruined his body, his mind, everything. Brought him so low that all he could do was climb up. Stephen saw a flash of yellow from a road sign before they smashed into the guardrail and were airborne. Cloak writhed but for some reason it didn't transform. Stephen's hands formed shapes he didn't even know he knew.

The sling ring made opening gateways possible for those without the inborn ability. Well, they made it so the user wouldn't kill themselves with the attempt. Stephen had never done it as a human-

Christine. Sofia.

He pulled out everything he could muster. He could only make the portal back onto the road. Thousands of miles to California was out of the question. Physics kept the car moving but they hadn't fallen far, so the impact wasn't deadly when they crashed into treeline. Stephen's arms fell like lead. His diaphragm struggled to contract. Still alive, but his body wasn't moving. He pulled his gaze from the car's sunroof to look down. A metal pole pierced the Cloak and his torso.

Well. Shit. That was unfortunate.

His breaths were reedy and thin and made more difficult by the thick blood gushing down his chin and neck. Christine's groan filled him with relief. She was the most fragile of them by far. She had a cut on her head but her seatbelt had done its job.

"Ste—oh my god, Stephen. Nononono-" Christine managed to unbuckle herself with shaky movements.

"Sofia," Stephen gasped, barely.

"I-I-um." He heard her moving about and carefully talk to his keening daughter. Stephen rolled his head to the side when his door was yanked off its hinges. He blinked, slow and dazed.

That…wasn't he the Winter Soldier? Why the fuck would…?

The gun held at ready revealed what was responsible for his tires blowing out. He stared up at the man, fingers twitching and spasming. Stephen brushed against the man's mind with his own in an attempt to incapacitate him; he recoiled psychically.

"What's…wrong…with your head…?" That made the assassin pause, only briefly, before he directed his gaze to the screaming Christine. Right, Stephen looked to be as good as gone at this point.

Sofia let out an inhuman wail and a black mass slammed into the Winter Soldier, sending him flying down the road and skidding across pavement.

"Sofia…" Stephen gasped. Her enraged howls drowned out his words as she ripped open the other door and scrambled out. She did best at night or wrapped in darkness. The timing wasn't optimal for her, but she was past all reason. The Soldier was up on his feet in moments none worse for the wear. That was right—a super soldier...but it was hard to think.

"Stay with me, Stephen," Christine ordered through her tears. He struggled to grasp his magic. When it fell through his metaphysical fingers for the fifth time he knew, then, something was wrong.

Well, more wrong than the metal pole that had somehow managed to pierce through his shields and into him. How? It shouldn't have been able to—Stephen struggled to extend his senses again and, indeed, there was a trace of…something. A chill began to creep up his limbs. Familiar. But the memories-

The Soldier fended off Sofia's blows as she attacked with rabid intensity. Stephen's mind blanked out—then came back into focus when the Winter Soldier picked himself up from being thrown through a tree. The dead expression on his face made it all the more wrong. Christine was speaking but—

—came back into focus with the Soldier on one knee and Sofia's black ichor wrapped around his torso.

Sofia's teeth crunching into the Soldier's arm made Stephen hiss in alarm. She was inexperienced and too enraged to realize that it left her wide open. She was crying as she gnawed on the metal wrist. It crunched under the pressure of her jaws. A normal human would have long lost the limb. The handgun pointed at her temple made Stephen choke as she didn't seem to neither notice nor care. They were unsure of how durable she was—it wasn't as if they were going to put her through a stress test to find out. He tried his magic again but the cold—he couldn't break through the ice. He'd felt that before but-

Just when he thought he was going to watch his daughter get shot in the head the Soldier…stopped. He watched her mangle his metal limb as he kneeled there. The finger uncurled, then moved from the trigger entirely and he lowered the weapon.

He didn't shoot her. Come to think he hadn't done anything to her at all—only defended against her blows. What…was it a set of morals? But the man's mind wasn't right—scarred like Peggy Carter's in a way. Instead, all the assassin did was grasp Sofia's dress straps and toss her away. A knife blade took care of the tendrils.

Stephen choked when he saw Christine run up behind him and get a solid hit in with a tire iron. When had she even moved? She hit his torso again only to be shoved down with a light push on the Soldier's part. Maybe he wouldn't harm a child but an adult was no doubt different. That theory proved true when he raised the hand gun. Stephen couldn't move—all he could do was fade into cold—

The sound of a boom and a mechanical roar filled the air.

Thank fuck for advanced technology and the thing powering his heart. Without those he would have dropped from cardiac arrest at the mach speed he'd been going.

"Status update, Jarvis." The scans picked up the destroyed steel wire cable guard rail and crashed car. Christine and Sofia were both sprawled on the pavement but Stephen-

"Dr. Christine Palmer's and the young miss's vitals are normal. The Doctor's…" He didn't finish but Tony didn't care—only saw red as deep as the paint job on Mach III. The assassin twisted and fired a few shots. The bullets pinged off the armor and Tony didn't even slow. The Soldier threw the gun away when it became clear it was insufficient and widened his stance just moments before Tony rammed into him.

Tony threw him onto the ground and it was satisfying watching bones shatter. Still alive. If given a chance the super soldier would eventually heal back to normal.

If given the chance.

The repulsor tech on his palms were, technically, a means of flight stabilization; but, Tony hadn't shied away from programming in a more concentrated beam of energy for offensive purposes. This wasn't magic—now they were in the realms of cold, hard science and this fucker wasn't going to get back up without a head.

"Tony…"

Tony's throat and chest were tight as he stared down at the man that had taken away everything-

"Tony."

Doom had been one thing; Tony had actually never killed a man directly no matter what Death and so many others had labelled him. But he could find it in him to do it now by God-

"Sir, the Doctor is calling for you."

It was only for that reason that he stopped. Tony hesitated looking over because he didn't know if he could keep it together if he saw-

"Leave h-him…be, Anthony. Come…here." It didn't even sound like him. The pitch was too high and he had to gasp every few syllables. But Tony couldn't disobey.

He staggered to the car, legs still shaky from the g-forces despite his well crafted calculations and customized alloy. Stephen was supposed to be…why was he bleeding so much? This wasn't right.

The bleached bone white complexion wasn't right—the chill of it wasn't right.

"Hey, baby. Let's…let's take a look at you," Tony couldn't keep his focus on the beam of metal even if he tried. He'd vomit if he did. The Cloak could only wriggle and it wrapped around his wrist. Jarvis displayed the rapidly falling vitals. "Come on, Steph. Gonna need you to focus—do your magic thing."

"Can't…" came the sigh.

"I don't wanna hear that from you." Tony eyed the metal currently pinning Stephen in place and considered his options. None were optimal. "Get it together, Doc. Try for me."

"Can't…the cold…" Stephen's head lolled against his palm and fucking shit Tony was going to die. He was going to die right with him. Tony's thumb rubbed mindless patterns against the other's cheekbone. Sofia was wailing.

"T-Tony?" Christine limped up behind him. "It's…the shock must-"

"With all due respect the only thing I want to hear from you are solutions, Dr. Palmer." Tony kept his eyes on Stephen's fluttering lashes.

Christine's silence was pointed but she continued. "He can't be moved without medical services standing by—there could be spinal injuries if he didn't bleed out in seconds. Keep him still and aware."

"Can't be moved…" Tony spotted the cracked screen of the iPhone at Stephen's feet. "Get his phone, it's right here. Passcode is 0222. Get Wong on the phone and have him meet us here."

Christine took the cell and held it up to her ear. "Got it."

"And keep Sofia occupied!" Tony called before returning his attention back to Stephen. "Hey, there, you hear that? We just gotta keep you focused. Lucky us—running my mouth is a specialty."

"God…don't I…know it."

"Excuse you. I'm a gem. Think you can stay with us a bit longer?" Tony wasn't going to forget the cloying scent of blood.

"Y-You mean…can I…sit around with s-something large…stuck in me? Easy work."

Tony knew he must have sounded hysterical but it was all he had. He blinked back tears. "That's what I thought, you magnificent creature."

"Tony…that man-"

"Fuck him. Don't waste your energy on him."

"-something's wrong…with him."

"And I'll make it permanent. I didn't take any oath."

Stephen's lips cracked into a smile as his irises turned royal blue, then black. "Still…I don't want you to…"

"Hey, hey. Let's talk about about something more cheery. You are my fire, after all. Maybe even my one desire."

Stephen managed a full blown bloody grin in response. "I really do love…" Then it faded into surprise as he gazed at something in the distance. "…y-?" Stephen seized and gurgled and his eyes rolled back.

"Steph, what? Steph? Stephen?? Hey!! Hey!! Fuck—don't you fucking dare-!!"

"Sir, his vitals have-"

"I don't give a fuck what they've done! Stephen??" The Cloak's grip loosened and it, too, went still. He slammed his fist against the car frame, making a sizable dent but didn't turn at the now familiar sound of a portal opening.

"Wong, oh thank goodness! Stephen's-"

Tony actually shoved back with a snarl when Wong's heavy hands tried to move him. But the man was as solid as the mountain they stood on; he merely redirected Tony's wild blows with golden orange mandalas before he hurt them both.

"That's enough, Tony!" Wong grabbed his shoulder and Tony was seized by intense exhaustion. "That's enough."

Tony was actually thankful when sleep pulled him under.

His mouth tasted like the effects of a terrible hangover and his head was full of cotton. He lay on a bed roll under a light blanket. Tony stared at the thick beams criss-crossing the ceiling before glancing down at the weight on his arm. Sofia was curled tight against him. The pieces of his suit lay even further beyond that—carefully arranged in their proper configuration. Tony reached over to snag the headset. He settled the ear piece before tapping it.

"Jarvis?" Fuck his mouth tasted foul.

"Sir, thank goodness. Are you all right? Mr. Wong assured me you would be fine in due time-"

"Speaking of, what time is it?"

"In local time it is 2:30, early afternoon. Nepal is 10 hours and-"

"That's all I need." He picked up a gauntlet and took one more moment to look at the still napping Sofia. With a silent promise he exited the room into stone walkway. Tony hadn't been shown the entirety of Kamar-Taj, but he did know where the courtyard was located. And, from there, the dungeons. He ignored the occasional glance and outright gawking.

"You two seem to find yourselves in the most interesting circumstances," Death appearing ought to have surprised him but he was too tired to care.

"I'm not even going to bother with pleasantries-"

"Do you ever, Anthony Stark?"

"But bring him back. Now."

"Are you ordering me around, mortal? You have some gall." The warning in her tone made him stop and he stared at the holes in her skull. The space behind him was pitch black. An abyss that stared back. "But I like you, so I'll let that lapse pass. This is a strange time."

Tony exhaled a gust of air as he relaxed. "That right there? That's why no one likes you." He reached the lone sakura tree. The Ancient One sat underneath it once more—this time waiting for him. Wong stood at her side, hands behind his back. If he was affected, he wasn't showing it. Then again, Tony had lost about a day so who knows what happened.

"Of course, I couldn't grant your request even if I felt inclined," continued Death. Tony froze and stared at her until Wong's pointed cough gained his attention.

"It is good to see you awake, Anthony." The Ancient One's calm exterior nearly made Tony lose his. He had to bite back the vitriol that tried to spew from his lips. It wasn't her doing. Nor was it Wong's. He had the true culprit to attend to.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I don't know what spell work that was but don't do it again."

Wong nodded, "I apologize—I won't unless asked. If it helps I…felt I had little other recourse."

"Maybe. So. Where is the fucker?"

"And what do you plan on doing if we tell you? What do you hope to accomplish?" Asked The Ancient One.

"Don't let this gauntlet and my murderous rage fool you. I just want to have a cup of tea and chat. Ask about the weather, his health, his hobbies...such as the long list of assassinations that include my parents and husband."

"Stark-" Wong began.

"Dungeons. Thought so. Excuse me." Tony stalked past them.

"Stark…Tony. There are things you should know-"

"Oh, I agree. There are a shit ton of things I should know; so I'm going to go find out."

He had once been perturbed at how deep into the earth the stairs had gone, but now some part of him found it comforting. It was a sadistic part he hadn't even known existed until…

Until.

The first two cells were empty, but the third one was the charm. The man sat curled up against the back wall. The shine from the torches, as well as the energy from the rings binding him, were the only sources of light. Still, there was a ghastly quality to him that made Tony's teeth itch.

"I know you heard me coming. You could at least have the decency to look me in the face," Tony said.

To Tony's surprise that did make him stir and lift his gaze. The greasy hair fell about the assassin's face—his dark eyed stare bore into Tony's own. The moment stretched in silence.

"…Open the door, Ms. O'Connor." Tony affixed the gauntlet to his forearm.

"And if I do, Anthony?" She still, even after all this, managed to look unruffled. Tony didn't know whether to envy her or hate her a bit.

"Talk. Like I said."

The Ancient One bowed her head for a brief moment. "Indeed you have. But you may not get the answers you want, I'm afraid."

"Why not?" Tony ground out.

"His mind has been shattered several times. Repeated, extensive trauma is the cause I suspect. Your Jarvis has helpfully supplied what you had found from that…organization you were investigating."

"Yeah, we were a little rough given the small amount of time I had while I was flying to New York—I'll probably be getting a visit from them soon, speaking of. So, what? Your psychics got nothing?"

"We are not certain of the cause. We specialize in the mystical, after all, and this appears to have been technological as it lacks the finesse of mental magics. I have never come across such a thing before hand."

"You know what would be great? If we had someone who was an expert on neurology—someone with experience who could provide more insight." This time the silence was choking. "Open the goddamn cell."

Wong sighed and nodded. It creaked open with a gesture and Tony was flinging the door open the next second and stalking inside. To Tony's credit he did have the intention to interrogate the man, but then his vision clouded and his armored fist connected with the other's jaw with a sickening crack.

"Sir, your blood pressure has elevated to dangerous levels," Jarvis's dry report was enough to get Tony to pace a bit and breathe through the emotions raging under his skin.

"Do you recognize me?" Tony asked as he stalked back and forth in the cell.

"…Yes," croaked the assassin. Shit, there really was something to being enhanced if the man's jaw survived that.

"From where?"

"Mission…objective…"

"Do you mean the same one that ended with my husband bleeding out on a fucking piece of metal?" The next blow caused blood to splatter. Tony felt possessed, disconnected from his skin but he also couldn't stop.

"I-"

"Who ordered the hit? That much I couldn't get—they were smart enough to keep that information off the servers and mainframes I have access to. Definitely at a separate site in a confidential location. 

Now I know it's not SHIELD. But it came from the inside. Something foul is going on and I intend on ripping it out if need be. Believe me, I'm smarter than all of you and it will be found. Give me names and locations and I might not lose my temper."

"I-" The next blow nearly sent the assassin onto his side and Tony's fist was throbbing even with the protection.

"Tony, that's enough!" Wong grabbed his arm.

"I'm just getting started!"

"If Stephen saw you like this-!"

"Okay then, let's ask him! Let's ask Stephen what he fucking thinks—oh, that's right, we can't!" Tony roared.

Wong's nostrils flared but he broke first, gaze lowering to the side.

"I'm…sorry…" The weak gurgle made Tony turn to stare down at the assassin. He was bruising quite well but it pissed Tony off even more that that would fade before the day was out. "Oh god—there was a little girl. Is she—is she okay? I didn't hurt her, did I? Like my sister…I…had a sister?"

"Tony…that man-"

"Fuck him. Don't waste your energy on him."

"-something's wrong…with him."

"Who are you?" Tony finally croaked.

"I don't know…I don't know."

The afternoon sun framed the stupas of Kamar-Taj as Tony climbed up the last of the steps. He needed more intel.

"Where'd you put…the wreckage? I know you people have been cleaning up after yourselves for centuries, so where?"

The Ancient One nodded. "We would be happy to show you…but I thought you would want to see Stephen, first? We have not discerned the cause of his coma but it appears to be more along our specialty."

Tony stared at her. A gust of wind picked up a small swirl of dust between them. Wong looked somewhat chagrined.

"You…didn't know-"

"Fucking LEAD with that, you assholes!!"

Tony came to find out that the thing about coma patients? They still looked…dead. Stephen's skin paled as to appear bloodless and not even his chest moved to take a breath. Cloak was laid on top of him, gently tucked. It didn't move, either. Christine had been curled up on a cushion in the room, cleaned up and dressed in some of Kamar-Taj's finest cotton robes. A cup of tea steamed, untouched, on the low table beside her. She had dark bags under her eyes and a stitched up cut on her brow.

"It's my fault," she said in greeting. Tony placed a hand on her shoulder. "I was supposed to be driving, b-but I was coming off a double and I didn't trust myself. He seemed okay. If only h-he had his hands free-"

"Shh, stop. You know good and well it's not your fault."

"He could have had his hands free t-to—I don't know! And I couldn't even stop that man—he was like some sort of monster-"

"Don't tell me you tried to stop him?"

"I hit him with a tire iron."

"…Respect, Palmer. Love to see that sort of initiative, but I'm more happy you're safe. Steph would be, too."

She grunted. "Yeah, well."

"And I'm sorry I was-"

"No, it's okay. I don't blame you at all. What's…what's going to happen? The Ancient One did some magic on him but it didn't look good."

Tony glanced over at Stephen's body again. Shit, it was so hard to look at him. Then, somehow, he knew. "His spirit's gone."

"Um, what?"

"Spirit. It's the mind plus Will—the consciousness. When unfettered by the bonds of the gross form, a skilled practitioner can move between dimensions."

Now she looked alarmed. "Wait, so, he's like a vampire-??"

"No, they're soulless, but keep their spirits, hence why they're technically dead, but capable of reason. The soul is an eternal…thing that can't be described by human tongue. The spirit is the collection of experiences in one's current life as well as impressions left over from past incarnations.

Essentially, Stephen's soul is still there, but the OS is-"

"Missing. I think I understand. Wow. Did you study here, too?"

"Actually I have no idea where that came from." They stared at each other. "I'll worry about it later. Christine, can you keep looking after him, for me? I need to get to the bottom of this. I got a lead from our would-be-assassin's motorcycle. His handlers had a tracker. I traced the location to Eastern Europe so I need to check it out and make sure we have no other surprises."

Christine's spine straightened, the guilt melting away. She nodded. "Kick all their asses."

"Oh, I will." Tony paused long enough to place a kiss on Stephen's forehead. Cold. "They'll wish they went after me, instead."

Petrenko had been having a nice day up until their Asset had gone dark.

Records showed he had been en-route and had engaged at the exact place and exact time—as per usual. Petrenko had considered sending one of the others but they tended to be…unstable. Why send a hammer when a precision tool was all that was needed? But then the tracker had vanished from the coordinates without a trace and now everyone was scrambling for answers before their superiors became…annoyed.

No one came back from those sorts of performance reviews.

"Sir?"

"What?" He snapped, going over the logs for the fifth time.

"Sir, we have incoming. It's coming in fast—very fast."

"Then shoot it down!"

"We are trying, but it's much smaller than a normal aircraft and more maneuverable. Nothing is hitting—I swear it's predicting our shots."

Of all the- "Pull it up on screen." Sweat began to drip down his temple. This was a well hidden base—off the grid, as the Americans would put it. Tucked within thick forests and difficult, mountainous terrain; that, on top of their, well, SHIELD's, cloaking tech-

Petrenko had no idea what he was looking at, at first. The red blur was indeed flying circles around their bullets and drones, shooting them down from the sky.

"I think it's…man-shaped?" One of the technicians observed.

"And it's heading straight for this tower! Don't just sit there, initiate defense protocols-!" Too late. One of the thing's shots collided with the tower, making it tremble beneath their feet and setting fire to the western side. The woman by him screamed as she barely avoided defenestration, but the concussive blast from the terminal blowing up in her face…well. That was not an optimal way to go.

"This fire power…is it one of SHIELD's?" He asked. Hydra soldiers were scattering below as the armored suit set about destroying their base at an unprecedented rate. The assault had only begun minutes ago and they were already compromised!

"No, nothing's coming up!"

"Is it even manned? I want answers!"

"Sir, we have none!"

Petrenko threw himself onto the ground as what should have been bulletproof glass shattered around them. He covered his head as the metal man floated into what was left of the command tower. It landed with a thud and looked around.

"That's the stuff," the voice was distorted and metallic, but the accent and language were clearly American English; male, it would seem. An American innovation? But Hydra's moles would have warned them before it even began development. It walked to a console and ripped open the casing to peer inside. "Told you it was a good thing that I attached this~" It sang, it actually fucking sang as it lifted its left hand and pulled out a cable from the underarm.

"Noted, Sir."

What? British English? A handler, perhaps. The man in the suit connected it to the main drives. Petrenko relaxed a bit.
"That's useless. The information is heavily encrypted, you will never be able to-"

"Decryption complete, Sir," the voice said. Well, damn.

"Thanks, J. Initiate download."

"Initiating."

The armored suit continued humming, waiting as terabytes of Hydra data was being stolen before Petrenko's very eyes. He would never be able to live with this shame. One of the men had crawled forward and lifted a handgun. Petrenko winced when the suit idly lifted an arm and a blast of…something…sent the poor man flying into, and through, the weakened far wall. That was…also a non-optimal way to go.

"You are my fire. The one desire," it continued to sing. How was this real? Was he sleeping? None of them dared move lest they drew its insanity down upon their heads. "Believe when I say, 'I want it that way.' But we are two worlds apart. Can't reach to your heart…when you say, 'That I want it want that way.'" 

Petrenko's hands trembled as he tried his comms. Dead. It was all destroyed. He had served Hydra gladly for a decade but never had he been so shaken.

"No matter the distance, I want you to know, that deep down inside of me~you are…my fire, the one desire~you are~. Don't wanna hear you-." The suit then turned to look at the rest of them in expectation. What?

Finally, one of the newer recruits tentatively piped up, "Ain't…nothing…but a heartache?"

The suit waved its hand.

They glanced at each other before Koval joined, "Ain't nothing but a mistake."

"Don't wanna hear you say~!"

The woman, Anna, and Koval. "I never wanna hear you say~"

"Oh, yeah~"

"'I want it that way.'"

"Tell me why."

"Ain't nothing but a heartache~. Ain't nothing but a mistake~ Tell me why. I never wanna-"

"Never wanna hear you say~"

"'I want it that way!'"

Their singing trailed off. Petrenko cleared his throat and licked his lips. "'Cause I~want it tha~t way?"

"…You know, I forgot how good that song was. Oh, we done?" The cable retracted and it flexed its hand. "Excellent. My goodness, you bastards are in all sorts of things, aren't you?"

"You may have struck a powerful blow today, Metal Man, but know that even when you chop off one head-"

"Yeah, okay, you got five minutes before this entire base self-destructs." It lifted off the ground with a low roar. Petrenko and the rest of them paled. They would never make it out of the blast radius, much less escape the grounds. They wouldn't even have enough time to warn the other strongholds. This was to be their tomb. The most they could hope for was swift vengeance.

The thing continued, "Yeah. You'd need at least ten if your cardio was decent. But as the seconds tick down I want you to know what it feels like: the pain of racing against the inevitable. But, hey, hope springs eternal. If I were you? I'd start running."

"Sir, Wong is contacting you," Jarvis said.

"Patch him through." A pause. "Wong! My third favorite sorcerer! What you got for me?"

"We figured it out. Show me your location and I'll open a gateway."

Tony's heart skipped. "Will do."

"And was Jarvis recording the whole time?"

"Uh, yeah. That's a feature."

"He may have caught something."

"Landing now and sending."

"Thank you."

Right. Finally.

Stephen hadn't moved when Tony returned. It shouldn't have disappointed him but somehow…

"Anthony. This is Kaecilius. He is one of my brightest students and an expert in what we are about to tell you," The Ancient One began.

Tony nodded at the tall, stern man. He wore the red robes of a Master and a wicked looking knife rested at his hip. He only nodded in return and spoke. "I have an interest in what could be called the chthonic dimensions."

"I'm sorry, the what?" Tony bent to lift Sofia onto his hip. She latched on so hard he winced from the strength.

"We categorize the various realms we come across for organizational purposes. Chthonic refers to the infernal, the places what could be called the underworld. They operate at slower frequencies than our current dimension and typically are found…lower, in the hierarchy."

Tony and Christine looked at each other in horror. "I mean…he could be kind of an ass but Hell is a bit-"

"Oh, no, no. Well, there are various Hells, naturally-"

"Naturally??"

"But it only means how fast, or slow, the dimensions vibrate in relation to others. It took some doing but we believe he was taken to one of them."

"Wait, hold on, you said 'taken.'" Christine interrupted.

"Indeed. The answer lay in his injury. We examined the vehicle and the…metal sign post. All energies leave traces and this was exactly the case. Master Strange's shields were strong enough to remain on the car even though he is technically no longer present. What happened should be impossible—except…I believe the expression in English is…Trojan Horse?"

"Something snuck its way in?" Asked Tony.

Kaecilius nodded. "Precisely. I couldn't say when, but it was expertly done. Slow, insidious, feeding off of him when he was at his weakest. And when the opportunity presented itself…well." He gestured to Stephen's still form.

Tony allowed the words to sink in before speaking. "Jarvis, how often did you record unusually low temperatures in our bedroom?"

"At least 20 times, Sir. More often in recent weeks."

"Did you catch anything on any of the mansion's feeds?"

"Negative, Sir. I would have informed you immediately."

"Asleep…yes, yes that would make sense. Honestly, he really should have taken more care for someone who astral travels as much as he does-"

"Kaecilius, don't make me ruin the mood by assaulting you," Tony interrupted with a bright grin. He only received an amused glance in return.

"But…ah, it all makes sense now, but we should get confirmation. I was told that computer of yours makes recordings?"

Tony grit his teeth but said nothing more. He set the headset down between them and Jarvis promptly projected Stephen's last moments. Tony clenched his fist but set about rubbing Sofia's back. She whined and tugged at his shirt and pointed.

"Huh? What is it?" 

"Replay the last moments, if you would. Slowly," Kaecilius ordered. Sofia whined once more and pointed at her ears. "Ah, so it hears something as well."

"You call her an 'it' again and-!!" Tony only stopped his movement forward when Christine placed a hand on his arm.

"She, then."

"Sir?" Asked Jarvis.

"…Do it. Cut out our voices and see what you can do with the audio. Our human ears aren't cutting it."

The slowed down footage was even worse. Stephen looked mostly gone. His mouth moved and then…a whisper. The sound waves moved so slow it was no wonder they didn't hear it. But it had a sort of rhythm to it. It crested and fell and crested-

"Something's talking," Wong hummed, scratching his chin and leaning forward. They watched as Stephen's eyes rolled back and-

"Jesus Christ." Christine covered her eyes. Jarvis froze the image where Stephen's eyeballs had turned cool grey and a bizarre letter burned on the flesh.

"This is quite bad," said The Ancient One.

"Obviously that is really fucking bad but how fucked are we?" Tony asked, voice cracking.

"A Lord of Fear. He who rules the deepest depths of the Dream Dimension. The origin of the darkest impulses and debasements of humanity. He who has all beings who sleep within his reach as the Leviathan of Midnight," Kaecilius breathed.

"Are you a fan? Do you want me to get you an autograph before I take him out?"

Kaecilius snorted. "Have you not been listening? You can't 'take out' Nightmare and you especially can't do it while he is in his realm. As the name implies it is the collective place where all humans tap into when they sleep. Jung was quite extensive—a little dry but not all that wrong considering his lack of mystical training. Simply put? Master Strange might currently be wishing for a hell."

"Yeah, well, I haven't given it a go. How do we get to where Nightmare is? You guys must have something."

"Nothing that would help you. His realm is an offshoot of the Dream Dimension, accessed by sleeping and that would be of little use to you. He has even attacked a few times over the millennia in his hunger to merge our dimension and his. We are not going to risk that for anyone," Kaecilius retorted. "As a matter of fact, Master Strange himself poses a risk. His body is wide open for who knows what. You may have to consider euthani-" Kaecilius choked when Sofia wrapped a tendril of ichor around his throat and lifted him in the air. She bared her fangs in a hiss, tongue lashing about.

"Oh. No. Fi… …Stop," Tony drawled.

"Enough!" The burst of magic from The Ancient One made them stagger. Kaecilius dropped with a gasp. Wong steadied him. "That would be the case, but…Stephen left behind an important part of him, didn't he?" She nodded in Sofia's direction, who blinked and canted her head in confusion.

"The blood ritual?" Wong asked in surprise. Then it gradually faded as understanding bloomed across his face. "That…could work. A gateway with little risk-"

"Little. Not none," Kaecilius rasped.

"But small enough to try."

Tony, for the first time, felt hope. "Okay, that's something. Can we count on your help?"

"Sorcerers, due to the nature of our work, would be vulnerable in such a place. Our Spirits have a more tenuous grasp on our physical form in order to channel dimensional energies. You will find willing volunteers, however..."

Tony cursed under his breath. Then an idea crossed his mind. "Prep what you need, Ms. O'Connor. I'm getting some people."

"Good. Again." Elsa motioned for Shiro to repeat his attack. Adam stood to the side, as placid as a statue. Shiro nodded and began to move forward when a portal opened just to the right of them.

"Fuckin' hell, I told you text before—Stark?" Elsa dropped her guard.

Tony waved. "Hey, gotta mission for you. Oh, kid, you're here, too…nice. Didn't know you liked them older."

Shiro sputtered in horror as Elsa rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Stark?"

"I want you to join me on a field trip to a hell dimension."

"…I am regretting every choice I have made in my life," Shiro whispered.

Blade swung the katana, whipping the blood off the edge before sheathing it. He idly counted the bodies. Ten, on the low side but the night was young. He turned to grab the accelerant to start the not-so-exciting part of hunting, the cleanup of evidence, when a golden circle appeared.

"Mr. Daywalker, I need you for something." Stark of all people stepped out onto the freshly cut grass. However, instead of Strange it was a stocky man with shaved head and a glower that was pretty respectable. Tony then made a face. "That's disgusting, by the way."

"You have your job, I have mine. Where's the wifey?"

"Stuck in a realm of nightmares with little hope of escape. You in?"

Blade blinked behind his dark shades, then he bared his fangs in a smile. "You came at the right time. I was gettin' bored."

"I aim to please."

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

The Winter Soldier looked up into Stark's eyes, surprise making him speechless.

Tony Stark continued. "During World War 2 you were on a mission with Steve Rogers, codename Captain America, in the Austrian Alps when you went missing, presumed dead. Obviously, it didn't take."

"I'm…" The images flashed before his eyes. Yet, the words felt true. "I'm James Barnes."

"What followed is decades of pretty stomach churning levels of human experimentation, brain washing, and torture. Now, I still don't like you, but I'm not without reason."

"You should hate me."

"Not gonna lie, I kinda do. But that'll probably change. What I'm actually here for is to ask you how far are you willing to go to make up for what you've done?"

The Winter—no, James paused. Then he whispered. "I would do anything."

"Stephen will probably frown on me taking advantage of a guilt-ridden prisoner of war, and a large part of me agrees. But," Tony's smile was cold. "He's not here, and you're going to help me bring him back."

"…Understood."

"Then let's get this done."

Tony clapped his hands and addressed the room. "Everyone. If I could have your attention, please? I know the canapés are to die for, but…well, they certainly won't be the things trying to kill you before the night is out."

"Did you have to say that?" Zoe yelped.

"Uh…kinda? I mean, I tend to start making glib remarks under times of stress. You have already been given all the information we currently have. Essentially, due to the type of connection Sofia has with Stephen, this will give us the ability to temporarily access a dimension of, well, nightmares. It is ruled by something called a Lord of Fear which, aside from being a potential kick ass name for a metal album, you can probably guess the type of thing we're gonna be up against. You are all adults and can decide for yourselves if the risk is worth it—and believe me, the risk is high. But I'm going, and I hope you all will do the same." Tony paused. "Well, me and James over there are going because he doesn't have a choice, but the rest of you I like."

"We knew what we were agreeing to when you first approached, Mr. Stark. I will not abandon Dr. Strange now," Shiro said.

"Quite. I don't care what you say, I plan on doing everything I can," added Jackie. Zoe nodded.

"You know I'm always good for it, Stark," Elsa called from the back.

"Behave, you. Still married." Tony looked at Blade, who shrugged.

"Here for a good time, not a long time. Besides, like you said if we let this fester that could have some nasty ramifications on our own realm. I prefer preventative measures."

"What he said. Now rest up while Ms. O'Connor preps the ritual. She's the only one who can do it so you have a bit of time. Any other items before we dismiss?"

Shiro actually raised his hand. It was so precious Tony didn't have the heart to mock him for it. "Mr. Stark, is it possible that we can come up with a more…appropriate name?"

"What? So that's a no on the Superfriends?" Tony got a myriad of grimaces and blank stares in return. 

James leaned towards Elsa and whispered, "I don't understand the reference?" She only shook her head in response.

"Fine, fine. I wanted something new, anyway. We are now the Stark Six," Tony said.

"The Stark what?"

"You have got to be shitting-"

"Um, I don't-"

"Hey, hey! Whose idea was it to put a team together and is using his own money to do it?" Silence. "And who was it that helped you all out of the goodness of his heart?" More silence. "And who's responsible for this delightful meal?"

"The cooks," Wong said.

"Well, okay, but that other stuff was all me. It works out. Elsa, Blade, Shiro, Jackie, Zoe, Jamie. Six inglorious bastards. I actually feel even more powerful than before. This is way better than getting drunk off high-shelf whiskey."

James leaned over again. "Is this really okay?" Elsa clicked her tongue.

They jumped when Sofia let out a shrill whistle and hopped up and down in a fit of pique. She jabbed her finger at Tony.

"Whoa there, young lady. I'll not have that language directed at my person," Tony lectured. Sofia crossed her arms and glared. "I'm not bringing you to a horrific nightmare realm, Fi. You can keep Mr. Wong company." Sofia hissed. "Wow. You are so grounded."

Wong cleared his throat. "That was the other thing. As the tether, she will have to accompany you to the other side, I'm afraid. We tried to think of a safer way but we don't have the means nor the time."

Sofia turned a smug grin to Tony, looking like Stephen at his most infuriating. Tony sighed.

"Fine, okay. The Stark Seven."

Chapter Text

Donna hummed as she tugged him along the well-worn path to the lake on the edge of their property. It had been Strange land for as long as anyone remembered (Eugene hadn't taken it well when Stephen pointed out one Thanksgiving that said land was probably stolen by their Hungarian ancestors who had gone by Seltsam before a census change). It was an unspoken rule that everyone in town had permission to use it when the heat got oppressive during summer; it was why Donna was dragging him along to meet her friends there that hot July afternoon. Just as well—the heat had done nothing for Eugene's and Stephen's terrible tempers. No one had been happy at Stephen appearing on their doorstep—only the collective love for Donna made it possible.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and you can't stop me," Stephen heard himself saying. He shook his head. It felt odd—full of cotton.

Donna's brown hair swung in her ponytail. "I know, I know. Just this one last swim! I'm so good I even got a job as a lifeguard at the Y."

"Then why am I here, exactly?" Stephen laughed.

"I just want you here, that's all." Donna leaned into him briefly. "And, I'm finishing up my studies at UNO."

University of Nebraska Omaha…wait, that couldn't be-

"Already? Time flies."

Donna poked him with a laugh. "Well, that's what happens when you're a hotshot surgeon in New York. But I loaded up on summer courses to graduate a little early."

"Of course; you're my sister, after all."

"Don't get all big headed. But, um, I was also thinking if your offer was still open? I mean, it's been a couple of years-"

"You have a room all ready for you. Just say the word."

She beamed and pumped her fist. "Now I get to meet my namesake—finally!"

"Sorry, I didn't want to subject Sofia to…him." Was this right? This feels…

"I'm not gonna cramp your style, am I?" Donna's smile faded briefly from insecurity. "I mean—you're all a big deal and dating a frickin' billionaire and-"

"Donna, I'll always have time for you. I promise."

"As long as you promise." Their pinkies curled briefly around each other as they turned the last bend. Donna caught sight of Jinni and waved. "I'm gonna jump right in!"

"I'll pass."

"Boo! But fine—you get to hold my stuff." This was wrong.

"Warm up, first."

"I know what I'm doing, Stephie!"

This was wrong.

"Jinni's waiting for me."

He should stop her.

"After this we can plan my great debut in New York City."

She was…

"See you in a bit~!"

Donna.

Despite the season Stephen watched his breath from a cloud before his face. He felt rooted to the spot as he watched her splash into the lake for the last time. His hands and feet throbbed from the chill. The trees around them lost their leaves and ice formed around the edges of the water. Donna played without care, tanned and freckled and forever trapped in summer.

"I was surprised to see that this was what you dreamed about." The man's boots crunched on the frozen grass and Stephen felt his presence at his side. Stephen couldn't turn his head—only watch as Donna's expression twisted and disappear beneath the surface.

"It was an aneurysm. No one could have done anything."

"That is what you tell yourself, and yet I see your heart Stephen Strange…you know that isn't true. Stephen—such a boring, common name." The man's skin was as pale as the snow around them—it made the black of his iris all the more prominent. He patted Stephen's cheek and pressed a thumb against his lower lip. "The universe has rules: every action you commit has an equal effect. It's beautiful, in a way. It is not the hand of a higher being—no moral ambiguity. You sow your seeds—and you reap what grows. That is all. And it saw fit to trap you in a family where all you would know is suffering and loss-"

"Are you finished? You'll put me back to sleep."

The man smiled. Stephen looked down to see the ice encasing his legs and creep upward. "That is the plan, my dear. That is definitely the plan. Get comfortable. I will keep you suspended in this dream until time itself ceases to be."

Kaecilius was the last person Tony wanted to see in Stephen's room. Yet the man had entered some minutes ago and watched them in a way that was…too creepy for words to be honest. Despite his insistence that Stephen be put down like a sickly dog, Kaecilius also watched him with a focus that went beyond mere hunger. It was curiosity mixed with respect mixed with some sort envy that Tony had long recognized. He'd been the subject of such looks for years: admiration and hatred for his brilliance came in equal measure.

"Is there something you wanted?" Tony leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, making his displeasure clear.

"I've been…thinking. Ever since Master Strange had appeared at Kamar-Taj things have shifted. Slow, almost imperceptibly, but shifted they have. I have studied the chthonic realms for years, yet not even I have gotten so close. So it begs the question: Why Master Strange?" Tony's skin prickled as Kaecilius continued his examination, twisting his head this way and that. "What is it about Master Strange…?"

"Get the fuck out. And that's me asking nicely."

Kaecilius smiled. "You should watch your language. You have a…daughter, do you not? I, too, was once a father. A husband. I, too, sat where you are now—over a spouse's broken body. Say you are successful. His injuries cannot be ignored. His spine alone was shattered, from what his doctor friend had told The Ancient One-"

"You have ten seconds-"

"He will never be the same-"

"Five."

Kaecilius held up his hands. "I shall pray for your success, Mr. Stark."

He left, and the room seemed even colder.

"Tony, where have you been?? You haven't been returning our calls!" Being the target of Pepper's ire was a tale as old as time, so Tony appreciated the concern for what it was and smiled in return. Hers, Rhodey's, and Happy's faces looked back at his from the video call.

"I know, I know, guys. I promised I would try to stay in contact more often considering recent circumstances, but we got a situation. Steph was…there was an accident."

"An accident?? Tones, you gotta give us more than that," protested Rhodey.

"I haven't been very honest with you guys. I've been looking more into SHIELD and I found something big. Like, world-altering, Illuminati big. Anyway, I must have been careless because they sent an assassin after Steph and he's…" Tony trailed off. His friends now stared at him in horror.

"No…oh, no. Poor Stephen. Tony, are you okay? I can be there in a couple hours," Pepper began.

"Hm? Oh, he's still alive. His spirit is just trapped in a realm of nightmares that are probably beyond human imagination."

"…I hate how I'm not even phased anymore," Rhodey sighed.

"Whoa, wait. I'm your bodyguard I should have been informed! What exactly is going on over there?" Happy said.

"This is a bit above your pay grade, Hap. There isn't anything you can do. I wouldn't even be able to go into said realm of nightmares that are probably beyond human imagination if it weren't for the suit-"

"What suit?? Tony-!"

"Oh, that's right I didn't tell you that either. Ignore that part. But, anyway, the real reason I'm calling is because I'm not sure how long I'm gonna be gone. So, Pep, you're in charge! Congratulations!"

Pepper stared at him in shock. "Wait, what-?"

"Giving you access to my boo's calendar. Ooh, there's a meeting early tomorrow that looks pretty important. Anyway! I'm off to Orpheus this shit."

"…Don't you know how that story ends?" Happy sputtered. Then he jabbed at his camera. "And I've been meaning to ask, who the hell is that guy??" James startled at being the center of attention and hesitantly raised his non-metal hand. He stood awkwardly by a heavy cart full of tools.

"Oh, this asshole? He's the assassin. It's a long story," Tony said, waving him off. "And the story's Greek, right? Those always end well."

"WHAT-" Rhodey screeched.

"See you guys, soon! Or, you know, I die. Or, you know, I end up being trapped in a realm of nightmares until the end of time. Wow, that sounds incredibly traumatizing. Pepper, find me a therapist. I need to set a good example for Fi." Sofia waved.

"Oh, hello, sweetheart," Pepper greeted distractedly. Rhodey's right eye had taken to twitching, which was something new and he should probably have that looked at. "Anthony Edward Stark-!"

"Not nearly as sexy when you do it, Pep, sorry. Mind's made up. Love you guys…seriously." Tony cut the feed and sighed so deeply he felt it in his soul. He sagged into his chair and rubbed a hand across his face.

"Was doing it that way okay?" James asked. Tony snorted and rolled his head to the side until the super soldier was in his line of sight. 

"If this goes tit's up I don't want the last time we speak to be me having a breakdown." James didn't reply, but Tony hadn't expected him to. He continued, "Now, shut up and sit down. Hold out your arm." James hurried to obey, placing his right arm between them. They both stared down at it. Finally, James spoke.

"You meant my mechanical arm, didn't you?"

"I mean I could take a stab at it but I'm not that sort of doctor. You kinda took out the medical one." James swallowed and silently switched his arms. Tony sighed and shoved a pair of goggles down over his eyes. "Flex your wrist. Good. Internal rotation…okay. External…okay. Now the phalanges…right. Well, frankly I'm shocked by your kill count because they gave you a piece of garbage. Stay still while I fix you up."

"…Why?"

"Why what?" Tony grunted as he pried open the damaged casing, noting the bite marks. Sofia had the jaw strength of a fucking Great White.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You're more useful with two working arms…is the answer you're expecting, I bet."

"Well, yeah."

"But the truth is fuck if I know. A lot of things are going down and I don't know anymore. I'm just flying by the seat of my pants—and a very expensive, weaponized suit of armor."

"It's just…" James trailed off and looked frustrated. Difficulty with vocabulary was a common issue with cognitive impairment. Tony remembered the scans of the man's brain and knew the only reason he was as coherent as he was was due to the super serum Hydra had managed to develop. But given the amount of failures—the graveyards' worth amount of failures—Tony had to wonder if his father's hypothesis that the serum's efficacy was also determined by genetics had some weight. Why Rogers out of all the poor bastards? Why Barnes? There could be others but the odds were in nobody's favor. Rogers was lucky to vanish when he did. Once the war was done the government would have been salivating at uncovering the secrets in his flesh.

The stability of the formula had been the main issue, according to Howard's notes. Before his demise at the hands of the man sitting right before Tony's eyes, Howard had often come tantalizingly close. Close enough that he left vials of the serum and the schematic for the machine that would inject them behind. Even now, as the witching hour (apparently that was actually a thing) drew close, Tony…considered. It could give him the boost he needed to survive taking the reactor out of his chest. Give him his life back.

But something in him told him to…wait. It wasn't him. It was Howard's idea of him, of the Stark Legacy, which had always been the problem.

"What if I forget myself again?" James eventually asked.

"You got a couple of people able and willing to take your head off. Blade and Elsa have been informed. You decide to reprise your role as Manchurian Candidate, and, well, we've come to the conclusion that it would be a mercy."

James nodded. "It would."

"But I don't…like that sort of thing. So I got good news for you. According to the records you are controlled by a series of codewords. Those weren't logged; looking back I could have blown that up with the base. If that were the case, silly me—that sure is some egg on my face." James stared at him. "But in all seriousness they were smart enough to make that information even more difficult to obtain. Now, there's a series that activates you, a series that sends you on whatever dirty job they want you to do, and then, deactivation. My thinking is we actually got lucky. You were activated and you technically accomplished your objective. Now the next step would be the series of words to either initiate your return or await further instructions, but-"

"I…didn't get that."

"Nope. There's a protocol where you report in regarding your mission status but you suffered a pretty nasty blow to the head and were incapacitated. You weren't meant to go so long without instructions, Soldier, and you certainly weren't supposed to have your memory jogged; nor were you supposed to forego your usual, loving brainwashing treatment before going back on ice. The healing factor in the super serum did the rest."

"Then…I'm okay?"

"For now—I can't promise you anything in the long-term. This is all theory but my theories tend to be correct about 98% of the time. And it's about time something went right this year. Raise your elbow."

"Are you all prepared?" The Ancient One asked. Dozens of candles flickered along the walls, casting eerie shadows about the room. Stephen's body, acting as anchor, lay at a specific point on the painted floor. Sofia, as the tether, was to act as a makeshift homing signal. The closer they got to Stephen's Spirit the brighter the sigils on her arms and legs would glow…in theory. Tony didn't ask about the red substance they used to paint said runes and he wasn't going to.

"I mean we can't exactly put this off, can we?" Tony said.

"It would be inadvisable, true."
 
"Then, fuck it. Let's dive into the abyss. Okay, folks. Normally this would be the part where I say some kind of rousing speech but I got nothin'. What I do have is a buddy system-"

"No. Next," Elsa drawled.

"Geez, fine. Try not to get gruesomely murdered by a hell beast, then."

Blade smirked. "Speak for yourself. You're the only un-enhanced person here."

"Joke's on you—I'm enhanced where it counts. Steph can affirm." He ignored the groans and sighs. "Anyway. We have our objective. If we can do it without alerting the primordial, eldritch abomination then all the better. But knowing our luck we'll literally fall on top of him, so…yeah; focus on grabbing Stephen and getting the fuck out. Now all of you are cute, but don't be cute or self-sacrificing or whatever. I haven't gotten the insurance plans worked out, yet."

"I thought Americans were good at motivational speaking? I've seen Independence Day five times and that was inspiring," Shiro muttered to Jackie, who shrugged in confusion.

"What about Independence Day? Is that another reference?" James asked.

"You should watch it. Aliens invaded the Earth and the President flew a fighter jet against them."

"Aliens invaded Earth-??"

Tony held up his hands and shouted, "Okay, okay! Look. There's a lot to unpack there but we're short on time so I'll just throw open the suitcase-"

"What suitcase? I'm sorry, is that a 'slang'?"

"It is a metaphor! I learned about it on a site called 'Urban Dictionary'-" Shiro began.

"Why don't we get started? The Witching Hour is at hand." The Ancient One glided to the center of the elaborate sigil.

"We are so fucked," Elsa sighed as Blade grimaced in agreement. The Ancient One's slender hands proceeded to form shapes so complicated Tony wondered if sorcerer's ever got arthritis. He really should get that insurance thing figured out. The hands of the clock aligned and a bell rang through the sudden silence. Sofia clambered on Tony's armored shoulder and wrapped an arm about his neck as best she could. Tony distractedly patted her back, eyes on Stephen's still form. He had no idea how his life had gone so off the rails within the span of a year, but he didn't regret a thing.

He would never regret a single thing.

They fell into darkness.

When James came to he was in a hallway. He rolled onto his feet and held his gun at the ready. It took moments to confirm with his eyes what his ears already knew—he was alone. He quickly checked his weapons—all accounted for—and began to advance at a moderate pace across uneven stone. It was too much like what he recalled of Hydra's many installations. The longer he was conscious the more fragmented images would flit across his mind's eye. Decades, apparently, condensed into flashes and sounds. Sometimes it made him jumpy. Elsa told him about something called PTSD—sounded a lot like the Shell Shock James had seen from the men lucky enough to come back from the trenches…what he remembered of the trenches.

He peeked around a corner then twisted around it with his gun at ready. Clear, so he continued.

But James' shock didn't much come from shells—he half wished they did because that would be easier than to accept the horrors he had gone through. Had done to others. Was it worse that he didn't even remember much of it? Howard Stark had been his friend. He'd been funny and charismatic and Tony was a lot like him—James didn't want to believe he'd do that to a friend and a helpless woman. Didn't want to believe the amount of blood he'd had on his hands—but then, his hands had been stained long before The Winter Soldier came to be. Maybe it was something rotten in him?

Another hallway. Clear.

No. It'd do no good to think that way. But now he had the time and the clarity and his mind would go to dark places. The veterans back home used to speak in low tones of old friends who couldn't—fit anymore. Did James fit anywhere?

As he made his way through the mazes of halls James slowly came to recognize the place. But he couldn't quite place the time. Was it during the 'Before'? Where he was a Howling Commando? Was it during the 'Winter'? Part of him fretted that Hydra had somehow taken him back but he knew that was impossible. Not even he could dream up the craziness of the past few hours: magic and dream dimensions and a little girl capable of chewing through metal. He passed a room filled with medical beds and rows of equipment. The needles of absurd length made him twitch. It sparked a familiarity but James had no choice but to let it go.

James climbed another set of stairs and entered a large room filled with monitors and consoles. His boots made not a single sound as he eyed his surroundings. It was only when the sound another pair of boots running towards him that he came to attention. He whirled around and held up his rifle. The (what the fuck was he even looking at?) thing held up its hands. It wore a uniform fashioned after the Stars and Stripes and carried a large shield on its back. It stirred up something in the recesses of his mind but James couldn't focus on that when it was in the grasp of a creature with melting skin.

"Bucky! Finally!"

What? "What?"

"I thought I'd never find you. C'mon, the rest of the men are-"

This was bizarre and that was saying something considering his life. "What men? Who are you supposed to be?"

The thing's smile fell and James masked a wince at the way the jaw took several seconds to settle. "Bucky…Buck? Are you all right? Don't you remember?"

"Uh…Who's Bucky?" Should he…should he shoot it? But well-worn lessons of only firing once you were damn sure of your target stayed his trigger finger. For now.

"It's me, Steve. I came here to rescue you."

"Steve?" That name had been in the files Howard's son—Tony showed him. Captain America. They'd been long-time friends. That caused a mess of feelings.

"Let's focus on getting out of here first; then we can get you some help."

"Okay, that's enough. Stop whatever game you're playing." James lifted his rifle and pointed it right between the holes where a pair of eyes should have been.

"Whoa, Buck-"

"And stop calling me that. Tell me where the others are and you'll get to live."

"I don't know-"

"My memory's not the best but I'm pretty sure Steve Rogers' skin wasn't falling off."

The expression shuttered as the act finally, fucking finally, ended. "You can see me."

"You are literally right in front of me—of course I can see you. Tell me where the others are. Now."

"Pathetic human! I will teach you some respect!" It raised its hand. Neither spoke for a few seconds before James cleared his throat.

"So…what are you doing, exactly?"

It looked at its bony fingers in shock. "I am a demon of a Lord of Fear, how are you doing this?"

"Listen, buddy, angst on your own time."

"Perhaps some kind of magical protection?" It hummed. "A shame. I was going to offer you a chance to get your life back. A man out of his time and the cause of so much chaos. Surrender, and you will know peace. You need not remain in such a confusing, alienating world. One snap of my fingers and you can be back in the past where you truly belong."

James curled his finger about the trigger. "You really think I'm that pathetic?"

"…Excuse me?"

"Was what happened to me fair? No. Did I deserve it? No. But the past is just that—past. And, yeah. Some part of me will always long for missed time but I also got a chance to make a new life for myself. I'm real fucking lucky in that sense—a lot people don't get that much. It'll be hard but I'll do what it takes. Now you're just insulting me."

"Are you certain? Everything and everyone you knew is dead-"

"That's how life is. People die; places change. It ain't my place to mess with that—all I can do is what's in my control. And, sure, maybe I thought about taking the permanent route out-" James was surprised when he admitted it out loud. It made the thoughts real. But he barreled on. "-and I don't think anyone would really blame me. But then what? I'd told Howard's son I'd do anything to make up for what I'd done—at the very least, I gotta stick around long enough to do that. Now answer my question."

"How admirable. And say you accomplish such a mission? What will you do then, Bucky? Hm? Why put yourself through all that pain? Go back—regain your life-"

"Enough. There's doing what's best for yourself and then there's being a selfish asshole who abandons the people who need you. I ain't going back. Besides, I got no use for some fake, idealized past that only exists in fantasy. In reality? It fucking sucked back then, too. War, food shortages, hatred, diseases with no cure…that shit's still around but at least in this time I got decent indoor plumbing and Wi-Fi."

It turned its face towards him once more. It looked unsettled. "I see now why my tricks don't work, Bucky Barnes. What's wrong with your head?"

"Heard that before. And don't call me Bucky."

The sound of a single shot rang through the halls.

The blood of the newly killed beast burned. It covered her once blonde locks—staining them red. The hot, viscous fluid seeped onto her scalp and she wanted to scrape it off with her knife. Tears ran down her cheeks as she futilely tried to scrub the blood off with red finger tips. Ulysses watched with unsympathetic eyes.

"Be glad it was just your hair."

Elsa grit her teeth and picked up the dagger. She raised it to her hairline. If she shaved her head it'd be fine. It would take years to grow back, but—only Ulysses' voice stopped her short.

"No. Leave it as a lesson—you were too slow." The shame made the pain more acute, somehow. A roar in the distance brought her back into focus.

"Tell you what—you do a better job on that one and I'll let you erase the evidence of your failure," Ulysses said. Elsa could barely breathe past the lump in her chest. But hope—that fucking hope she could never quite squash—made her grip the handle tight and shift into a low stance. The monster that emerged from the brush was one she couldn't identify despite hours studying Ulysses' bestiaries. Humanoid, bulky limbed. She'd taken down bigger.

With that thought, and her father's eyes heavy on her back she lunged forward. The monster stumbled but regained its footing quick. It alternatively dodged and blocked her blows. Her frustration grew as nothing landed. Desperation and hope made her clumsy as she overreached and she braced herself for the attack that would surely come. Instead, it locked her into a grapple.

"…a!"

She dropped her weight then kicked up to bring it off balance. It stubbornly hung on, but her next kick over her head connected with its jaw and that finally did it.

"-uck! —sa!" She raised her weapon to plunge it into the monster's chest when it tackled her onto the ground. "Elsa!"

It spoke? It knew her name?

"It's—es! James!"

James?

"Ni—mare!"

It all came back. The form flickered and became distinctly human. Elsa cursed under her breath.

"Bloody hell. Can I borrow that?" She nodded towards the gun in its shoulder holster.

"Be my guest."

"Thanks, handsome." She was thumbing off the safety and shooting the thing that wore her father's visage right in the blood colored shard in its chest. So satisfying. The scene changed from the thick trees of a jungle to a dark sky. Crystals floated by in place of clouds—screaming faces writhed under the surface in place of water vapor. "Goodness. Hope I don't end up in one of those."

"Agreed," grunted James.

"Mmm. You know, you're a right looker but I don't suppose you mind getting off me?"

James' horrified stare sent Elsa into a fit of laughter.

Zoe tried to hide the whimpers as her family stared at her in ill-disguised horror. The marks of dark magic could never be erased, however, nor mistaken. Her face was proof of her monstrous actions.

"Maman," she begged. But her mother only shook her head and backed away. She hid behind her husband who looked down at Zoe with such disappointment she would have preferred a knife to the heart.

"After all of the work I've done. After petitioning our honored ancestor…this is the thanks I get," he breathed. He held up a hand to stop Zoe from speaking. "I knew you were hopeless. I had accepted a child of mine would be found lacking…but to be so stupid? To ignore the hours of teaching-"

"I-I just wanted to-"

"Pathetic. An undead creature should be put back into the ground."

"No—Papa, I-"

Her father sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. She had taken after him, once. Now she couldn't even walk down the street with a strong glamour. He unsheathed his knife, the one he used when preparing animal ingredients, and tossed it onto the ground before her.

"Just…at the very least cleanse our family line of the shame. Thank god my brother and his family can carry on LeVeau's legacy."

Zoe sniffled as she stared at the knife. The bone handle had worn smooth long ago. Before she reached for it a hand settled on her shoulder. Zoe jumped and it took a bit for her eyes to make out what touched her. The bright red hair relaxed her.

"M-Miss-?"

"It's fine now. Don't go doing things that cannot be undone."

Zoe swallowed and anger made her hands clench into fists. The ground opened up underneath—whoever had the audacity to masquerade as her parents—and snakes crawled up to wrap around their limbs and sink venomous fangs into their flesh. Zoe ignored the screams and drew her thumb across her neck, sending them into the ground. The screams and hissing faded.

"Nice bit of spell work." Elsa sounded approving.

"I just remembered I'm deathly afraid of snakes," commented James.

"Lovely. There, you see? Progress!"

"I don't care for that sort of progress."

"Are the others okay?" Zoe clambered to her feet.

"We don't know. Lucky for us this nonsense doesn't work on Handsome, here, so I suspect the others are facing the same issues."

"We should help, then," Zoe said, nodding. Her glamour magic didn't work in this realm, but she was tired of the shame. And Elsa and James didn't seem to bat an eye at her changed appearance.

"Ladies first." James brought his rifle back to rest.

Elsa winked. "And a gentleman. You're making me all a-flutter."

Zoe bit her lip at James's sputtering.

"Eric?" Elsa whispered. Blade cocked his head to the side, showing he heard. He stood over a woman trying to breathe through a bloody throat. Water dripped down from a rusty pipe in the old alley way. Blood also gushed from between her thighs. She was reaching for them.

"That's your mother?" Zoe whispered.

"Mm. Once, yes." Blade stood like a statue.

"…You don't…one of us can do it for you," James began.

"That's mighty sweet of you." Blade smoothly raised his sword. "But unnecessary."

It didn't take long for Jackie to overcome her 'uncle.' The sight of him had made her so enraged she hadn't really clocked it was all in her head until the demon's head was rolling by her feet. Disappointment that it wasn't him warred with her relief that none of the past year had been a dream. She had gotten free and had a new family. But when she came across Shiro's nightmare it was like stepping into hell.

Everything was on fire. Screaming from the desperate and dying made her eardrums rattle.

"Shiro!" She called. "Shiro, it's not real! You haven't hurt anyone, I promise!" Jackie wished she had the nerve to test on how real the fire was. It was illusion, but the heat and the way her lungs filled with smoke could not be ignored. Thank goodness she didn't need to breathe.

Jackie had never been to Japan—she had no idea where to even to begin looking. In one of the many apartment buildings? The shops hidden along the side streets?

"Jackie! Jackie, is that you?" She turned in a nearly full circle before she found the one who called her.

"Zoe! Oh, thank heavens!"

"Is this Shiro's?" Elsa said with some horror. "It's huge—it absolutely dwarfs ours! He seemed so…"

"Cheerful? Yeah…but you know what they say about still waters?" Blade grimaced as a lick of flame got too close to his face.

"What should we do?" Asked Jackie.

"What do you know about him?" James turned to the others.

"I'm beginning to think fuck all," Elsa said. "Stark's the one that brought him on, but who knows where he—wait. Wait, wait, wait."

"Miss Bloodstone?" Jackie asked.

"Dearie, I told you Elsa's just fine. More importantly, we'll need to find a temple. The biggest one. He can't be too far."

James nodded. "What are you thinking?"

"He said, before his family split from the main line, that his clan was responsible for guarding an ancient artifact and they've been doing it before Japan was even Japan. Add to the fact that they're in charge of a billion dollar conglomerate-"

"They'll be filthy rich," Blade finished. "Can't hurt. But we should hurry before we find out just how real these nightmares are. I'm feeling a little toasty."

Jackie nodded. "I'll run ahead."

"Wait, we should-"

Stick together, but time wasn't on their side. Jackie had been practicing her speed as much as she could—enough that she felt confident she could keep from hurting herself. The area, like Elsa had noticed, seemed to scale with the actual city of Hiroshima. She had no idea his fears ran so deep. He seemed hesitant, sometimes, and withdrew occasionally, but…Jackie had failed him—she should have noticed. They all should have. She zipped up a building's face. Jackie played leap frog with the crumbling and compromised rooftop. She paused on a ledge and gasped in success. A large temple compound with lay tucked behind a high wall and green trees.

The only place that wasn't in flames.

Noting the direction, Jackie leaped off the ledge and dashed back to where she left the others. She ignored the burns she had gotten in her efforts.

"I found him!"

"Good." Elsa jabbed a finger at her. "Don't do that again."

Jackie nodded. "I understand."

The grounds were even more picturesque up close once they passed through the gate. The oppressive heat and sounds of disaster had vanished into an equally oppressive silence.

"Somehow this is worse than the fire," Zoe whispered as if loathe to break the peace. Jackie found her fingers curling between Zoe's. That was certainly true.

"Let's get a move on," Blade murmured, coat swirling about his feet. A giant, bright red Torii gate marked their entrance into sacred space. The wooden building ahead looked dark, but Jackie could make out the form sitting straight-backed before a giant statue of a peaceful looking woman with her hands pressed in prayer. What had Shiro said—ah, the Tori-oi-Kannon. Blood dripped down her closed eyes and stone clothing, finally splattering onto the closed box situated before the lotus she stood on.

"I don't want to leave," Shiro whispered as he watched his family's deity cry over the very thing they were supposed to protect. Jackie had once thought it impressive; the history the Yashida must have at their fingertips. But, now, she saw it for the prison that it was. Shiro didn't even know what it was they had bled and died for over the centuries—he may never know, as the box was to remain closed.

Kannon continued to cry.

"You know this isn't real," James said.

"I know. But I never realized…how much of a relief that is. I can't hurt anyone here." He bowed his head. "Do you know what's it like to be so afraid every waking moment? All it would take is a single slip and everything would go up in flames…like Hiroshima."

"Kid," breathed Elsa.

"I'm trying so hard. I can't get too excited, too happy, too sad…I can't even lose my temper. Can you imagine? A range of emotions lost to you."

"We would never let you-" Zoe started.

"You have no control over that. My father—we loved him so much. So much!" Shiro laughed and tugged his hair. "I was in elementary school—different even then. I had already destroyed countless floor cushions and futon and clothes. Money we didn't have to spare. That was bad enough. I tried so hard but sometimes it was beyond me—beyond my father. He could do little things, but nothing like me. He could do enough to contain me, even when it burned him. But one time I was just sick of it. Sick of wearing old clothes and the bullies and I just…I lost my temper. I lost my temper exactly once. It got out of my control—it was going to destroy my school and people and other students were still there. My father did what he had to do. He took it into himself.

He went up in flames."

No one had anything to say to that.

"He was a good man. The best. And my temper turned him into something unrecognizable. He lasted two hours in the burn ward—in agony. So, if I haven't made it abundantly clear: I'm not leaving."

Jackie let her hand fall from Zoe's and walked forward. She settled beside Shiro and leaned against him. He remained still. "My father was amazing as well. And I watched him die, too. He died trying to protect me—just like yours did for you."

Shiro sniffled.

"We can't make you come with us. Truly. But I like to think…even though the past hurts and it feels impossible sometimes, that we can't let it chain us down. Otherwise, we'll be stuck in it. Reliving it as everyone and everything passes by. Until even our bodies succumb to age. Stuck until we make the choice to move forward. Your father loved you very much—and I'm certain he still does, wherever virtuous souls go when it is their time. Mine wouldn't want me to remain in the old ruins of Falsworth Manor—do you really think yours would want you frozen like this?" She gestured about her. At the silence—at the lack of people. At the weeping bodhisattva whose ears could hear the suffering of all. Shiro slumped forward until his face touched his knees.

"No," he sobbed. "No he wouldn't."

"I'm worried," Jackie whispered. Shiro looked pale and hadn't spoken, but he accepted her shoulder to lean on.

"Agreed. We haven't seen Stark and Sofia in a while," Elsa rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Jackie grimaced at the sound. "And this place has no rhyme nor reason to it."

"Do you suppose…as it is a dream realm after all, we can just…dream him up?" Asked James.

"It can't be that simple," Blade said—but he also didn't outright dismiss the suggestion.

"I never did ask how you found me," Elsa began.

James could only shrug. "Whatever is going on here doesn't work on me. I wanted to find the rest of you, so…I did."

Elsa smiled. "Ooh, and you got to me first. I'm onto you." Jackie cleared her throat to draw attention away from James' stuttering. He'd yet to realize she'd stop once he stopped reacting, poor thing.

"We should try it," she said.

"I swear if this comes down to the power of friendship no one tell Stark. We'd never hear the end of it," Blade announced.

They nodded and made the solemn vow.

It would seem James' suggestion bore fruit. As a shout drew their attention.

"About bloody time," Elsa grumbled. "He would be the most annoying."

"I thought you liked him?" Zoe asked.

"Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"…Right."

Jackie sighed with relief when she saw Stark holding Stephen upright. He was…wet, for some reason, and shivering, but Sofia was lit up like a little Christmas light at their feet. He murmured something to Tony and sent them a pained smile.

Tony smiled himself and placed a hand over Stephen's heart. And fired.

"This is exactly why I wanted to instate a buddy system." Tony, minding the metal of his suit, held Sofia with care as they made their way across the, well, nightmare-ish landscape. Tony paused on an outcropping. "J?" JARVIS remained silent—the connection had cut the second his eyes had refocused and only he and Sofia stood amongst the dunes.

It wasn't lost on Tony that he had been transported into a desert. Nightmare had quite the sense of humor. Pieces of metal were scattered about his feet—like the remnants of a phoenix egg. Even now he believed that he really should have died. Yinsen intimated it; Stephen said it outright.

Death confirmed, in her own way, that he had.

But there have been millions of people who have undergone near Death experiences—then and now and more will come in the future. Why was his sorry ass still walking? Especially now that he was on yet another time limit.

Tony knew where he had to go. The camp, unlike last time, was pristine. Stark Industries' property lay stacked as they were when he was first dragged here. Sofia held up an arm. It glowed.

"Yeah, I got ya." Tony inhaled and then plunged into the darkness.

Even now he remembered the layout. His eyes immediately locked on Yinsen's body—bleeding from several wounds to the gut. Tony flinched back when the man's head twisted and his neck cracked as the human range was far more limited. Yinsen's bloodshot eyes were wide and bulging behind his glasses and he bared bloodied teeth.

"You're a man with a lot of blood on your hands, Stark. You didn't give a shit, did you? Your heart was shattered so fuck it all. You were in pain so everyone had to suffer like the selfish child you are. This world is broken anyway so just hand out Death like candy. You know I'm right—deep down you just wanted to break it all. You have a lot of gall acting as if you're so much better than Obadiah when the only difference is you got that good ol' American approval. But Stark genius has been erasing people from this earth for decades; dear old' dad had you mocking up firearms since single digits no amount of PR is going to change that keep play acting, MERCHANT-"

Tony grit his teeth and turned away. He tried his best to ignore Yinsen's howling laughter behind him. Sofia crooned in worry but Tony could only press onward. Tony staggered past the cave that still held the tub of water—they hadn't dared go with the more brutal methods as that would prevent him from doing what they wanted.

The metal door was all that stood between him and his goal. "Wanna do the honors?" He asked. Sofia saluted and kicked the door off its hinges. Tony nodded. "Atta girl."

Yinsen smiled at him from his cot, neck still twisted like a grotesque owl. "Hello, Stark. Are you still trying? I've been keeping him warm for you. Smear that blood from your hands all over him, make him even prettier-"

Tony snarled. "Enough!" Yinsen chittered and vanished.

Stephen had been encased in ice. Tony breathed and glanced at Sofia. Her sigils brightened up the room like bonfire. "Hey, baby. Let's…let's get you out of here."

Tony dialed down the power to his hands and carefully cracked the ice around his husband. When Stephen's head was free he took a deep breath and coughed.

"Oh, thank fuck. Okay. Just a bit longer. Then we can get out and put all of this behind us and I really hope Pepper found a therapist because I have seen some things, babe-"

"How…can you still…be talking?" Stephen mumbled, lashes fluttering. Tony laughed and worked his way down Stephen's body in a way that was definitely not his usual procedure and far less fun. He helped Stephen up into a sitting position. Stephen squinted at him.

"You're really here…"

"Can't believe you actually thought I was going to sit around and let you get kidnapped on my watch."

"I underestimated…you," Stephen leaned heavily against him. Sofia touched Stephen's leg, brows furrowed. "I know, darling. I'm a little cold but I'll be back to it soon."

"You are so grounded, by the way. Not even the kinky grounded, but actual grounded…okay, maybe we can add in the kinky grounded. You twisted my arm and I can't refuse you."

Stephen huffed in laugher. "I can't believe I missed that."

"Of course you did. So, after the kinky grounding, I'm thinking about what we should do."

"We should get away from it all," Stephen hummed as they finally exited the cave.

"You mean Escape? Then I got a list: get some piña coladas, get caught in the rain…don't eat much health food and get some champagne…"

Stephen blinked at him. "I…sure. If you say so. Oh, there are the others." Indeed, the gang was all here. Perfect.

Tony smiled. "Babe? One more thing?" Tony lifted rested his hand against the other's chest and fired a straight shot through the heart. Stephen's eyes widened in shock and fell to his knees.

"Stark??" Tony turned to see the team staring at him.

"Yo. Looks like my buddy system wasn't a terrible idea after all," Tony greeted.

"I'm going to assume you had a reason to do that?" James nodded at Stephen's crumpled form at their feet.

"Easy. Piña coladas."

"…You do that on purpose."

"Absolutely."

"Such a stupid thing?" The body at his feet shifted and jerked as the giggles bubbled up. "A silly drink?" Sofia hissed and kicked sand at him. Atta girl.

"No. It's Escape (The Piña Colada Song). Came out in 1979. Stephen would have come out his coma just to slap me for such an easy layup."

"…I can't read you. That one's brain has been turned to mush-"

"That's a little unnecessary," James mumbled.

"-so it's understandable, but yours? A brain as powerful as yours-"

"Flatterer."

"Can you tell me more about him? Nightmare?" Tony watched as The Ancient One slowly walked around the ritual room. It was the most heavily warded area in Kamar-Taj and only the most dangerous of rituals were attempted within its walls.

"A demon so powerful I would not dare face him, to be frank. Every sentient being in the universe sleeps at some point—and they dream. And so Nightmare will always be—will always have power—will never die. For some reason he enjoys human minds in particular; he feeds off psychic energy. This is why Wong and myself dare not accompany you. Should you fall…we have the others to think about."

"A demon that eats psychic energy? Kamar-Taj would be the hen house where the fox could gorge itself."

"Precisely."

"…Dreams, huh?"

As The Ancient One finished and the other's gathered, Tony's mind raced. He couldn't boast super strength nor speed nor durability nor magic.

But he was real fucking smart.

"Hey, Death? I'm gonna need a big favor."

"I'm incredibly charming, so I asked help-"

"-from a being that doesn't dream. Then I suppose it's time to drop the game." The desert faded.

"Not that I doubted you-" Elsa started.

"Uh huh. Sure," Tony retorted.

"But how'd you even think to test him?"

"Fi wasn't reacting to him like she should have. It was a decent copy, but not right. She figured it out before I did."

"Okay, fine. But I thought she was supposed to glow when Stephen was close."

Tony nodded. "Exactly."

And a throne room came into being. Said throne was made of twisted, screaming souls and it, as well as its dais, occupied much of the space. Nightmare himself was a supernaturally tall being with his skin taking on a greenish hue. His black hair moved with a life of its own in tendrils not unlike the ones Sofia used. He lounged with his legs sprawled before him; one long finger tapped the arm of his seat in a random rhythm. But that wasn't what Tony was focused on.

Stephen was, indeed, encased in ice; but, this was a solid block that Tony doubted they'd break through nearly as easily as before. As before, he appeared to be asleep.

"It's been a few centuries so I thought I would liven up the place. What do you think?" Nightmare purred. Tony shrugged.

"I mean, I can appreciate the aesthetic of your newest piece but that doesn't belong to you. I'm giving you a chance to let him go peacefully. I never learned to share—only child, you see."

"Well, then we are at an impasse."

"Hardly. You could literally let him go right now."

"Do your best, mortals."

Tony looked back at his team. "Remember what I said earlier? Still applies."

"…Understood, Mr. Stark." Shiro's flames shot towards the Lord of Fear, making the first volley.

They had never worked together as a full group before, which was a risk Tony was up to taking. But each knew their strengths well and had an idea of their teammates' capabilities. That seemed to be enough. But the Demon met them with glee—he shrugged off some blows and deftly avoided others'.

"I have been fighting and doing battle before your species had fully developed. Come now—make it interesting!" Nightmare mocked.

"Yeah, I know. Keep it up, guys so I can get a clear shot! I only got the one!" Tony shouted as he added more power to the ARC reactor. It was, at the moment, a one time use holy-shit-I'm-gonna-die-and-need-a-Hail-Mary sort of thing as it used up a large percentage of power. Current calculations put him at bare minimum operative levels following a single blast so he had to make it count.

It was torment—Stephen was so close but the dragon was like a god. Tony missed JARVIS. Now, definitely, as he had to aim the beam himself without the aid of an advanced computer system. But he had to wait. Nightmare laughed at the futility of Jackie's blows. Shiro had gotten tied up fighting flying creatures with wings made of bones.

Almost…

James had ditched his rifle long ago and went in with Elsa and Blade to engage in closer quarters. Nightmare handled all three of them despite their enhanced bodies and experience.

Finally. Tony fired.

"Are you actually going to stand here and watch this over and over?" Death unwrapped a cherry lollipop and popped it between her teeth. Stephen still stood at the waters edge. He knew—of course he did. But the scene was so addicting. Donna was so bright, so-

"So your spouse brought me down here as a favor. Normally, I can't access this realm without a host so I thought it was as a nice chance to sightsee. I chose really well with that one."

That made Stephen turn. "Tony is-"

"All of your little friends are here. Desperately trying to reach you. But you're here allowing yourself to waste away."

"I don't have the strength. Nightmare made sure of that."

"Mm, I saw. Haven't you tired of this, yet?"

"What?"

"This human nonsense. As long as there are beings who dream Nightmare will exist. They signed their death warrants as soon as they crossed over. Of course I can't get to them here so that will be a very terrible fate, wouldn't it?"

Stephen shut his eyes but he couldn't deny the truth of her words. The Spirit was one thing. But their very souls were out of Death's reach here. Unending torment at Nightmare's hands.

"Do it."

Death smiled. "Hmm? Be specific."

"I can't do it myself. I need you to cut away my humanity."

Death summoned her scythe with a bright smile. "It's about time!" She laughed and laughed.

"You fools have entered the belly of the beast and failed to realize it—thought you would actually stand a chance! I am a Lord of Fear, The Ruler of the Subconscious, The Midnight Leviathan! I AM-" Nightmare choked. Spindly fingers rose to his neck, shaking as he struggled to take in a breath. 

Tony wheezed and finally managed to focus enough to raise himself onto his knees. "Yeah, about that. I wasn't aiming for you." A single hand, bound in white fabric was wrapped around his throat. Nightmare struggled, but it wouldn't be moved—not, until, it threw him like a piece of garbage.

"Steph?" Tony panted. But…that wasn't right. Whoever it was wore his face, but the movements and countenance was as alien as a creature that lurked in the deep depths of the ocean.

"YOU! I HAD YOU!" Nightmare roared. The air shook from his rage. The man huffed and twirled the scythe in his hands with well-practiced dexterity.

"Is this what you wanted?" The voice, soft, still caused Tony's teeth to rattle. In his periphery his more enhanced teammates and Sofia cringed at just that. "Did you want my acknowledgment that badly? Poor thing."

"AGAMOTTO-"

The man's face twisted in a mocking smile before a golden mask, not unlike Mach III's, formed over his face. A streak of white cut through the black hair at his temples, and a heavy chain and lock hung from his neck, framed by a cloak of rich fur. His limbs down to his fingers were bound in bandages. "I congratulate you, Nightmare. You have gotten my attention."

Nightmare roared and his shape twisted and grew. Larger, larger— his skin stretched like a balloon just on the verge of popping. His neck and body elongated into a snake-like figure. A true Leviathan.

"I think we should move?" Shiro said.

"That may be a good idea—whoever can't fly or jump to the next platform get a buddy!" Sofia scrambled onto his shoulders and he grabbed James and Elsa by their arms. Shiro was already carrying Blade to safety, followed by Zoe and Jackie. "And to think you guys mocked my buddy system."

"No one likes a gloater, Stark," Elsa snorted.

"Then we are going to have an interesting relationship, Red. Luckily I'm into that."

The Midnight Levithan's bulk, somehow, shot from the ground and careened towards Stephen. Stephen raised his hand and Tony wished the man would hurry up.

"I am the Midnight Leviathan!" Nightmare was practically on top of the other god.

A short huff of laughter. "Then I shall be the sun. Seven Suns Of Cinnibus." The sky opened and light and heat filled the cavern with so much energy Tony nearly went blind from it. It was Sofia's shrieking that brought him back to reality.

"Zoe! Shield!"

"It's too strong—no, wait!" Rather than fight the power of the Suns she opened up the earth and covered them. Blade and Jackie collapsed with relief while Sofia rubbed at her eyes. Shit, they may be fine in normal sunlight but that was beyond. Even the stone glowed from the force.

Nightmare's screams eventually stopped. The stone turned dark. Zoe waited for several seconds before opening a hole to peek out. "We're clear," she announced.

"Holy shit," James groaned.

Holy, indeed.

Stephen, Agamotto, looked down upon them as if they were nothing. And to a god, maybe they were. With a wave of his hand every pain and ache Tony felt vanished, causing him to straighten in surprise. Judging from the others' faces he wasn't the only one.

"I shall open a gateway to your home dimension as thanks for your efforts."

"Whoa, hold on, stop. And where the fuck are you going to go?"

"To where I belong—the Cosmos."

Ha ha. Fuck no. Tony flew up to him and opened his face plate. How many times had he compared Stephen's eyes to the sky? But now there were truly stars in his gaze and a distance Tony didn't even know how to reconcile. Tony grabbed Agamotto's wrist in a tight grip. Agamotto's gaze dropped to his hand before returning to meet his own.

"You want to go to space so bad? I will develop the tech and take you there myself. But you're not leaving."

"Mortal. You have some gall."

"Your ex-girlfriend says the same. It's my most endearing quality."

"I could shatter you."

"But you won't." The silence between them stretched about as long as the sudden gulf Tony felt. There had always been something between them, from the very first second. Now there was nothing but the substance that made up the void between the stars.

"Before," Agamotto began, "I had to lose my hands to create the space for reconnecting to the Mystic Arts. Now, I gave up my humanity, a trapping that was never truly mine to wear, to save your lives. This is who I have always been; yet, you would condemn me to inhabiting a gross form?"

"That sounds incredibly selfish when you put it that way—YES. Yes, you son of a bitch! I came down here with the intention of bringing you back and I'm not leaving until I've dragged you out."

"Orpheus was destined to lose his Eurydice."

"Orpheus was a punk. I'm Tony Stark. And are you so sure? Are you really so sure that you and Stephen are so different?"

Agamotto…paused. That starry gaze traveled over each of their faces. Sofia whined. Tony's heart was about to burst out of his chest but he refused, refused to let go.

"Have you forgotten why you became human in the first place?"

"…I have not."

"So you think you can just fuck off to wherever? Sorry to break it to you, but those vows are rock solid—unlike whatever weird thing you and Death got going on."

"If you would cease speaking of her-"

"Ex. Knew it." Agamotto scowled at him. Then he pried his arm away with ease and turned his back on them; on Tony. He raised his scythe. 

"I grow tired of you."

Fury clouded his gaze. "You. Fucking. Promised. Have you forgotten? That you chose me and would keep choosing me. And sure, okay. Humans probably look like a bunch of squishy, dirty bugs to you who kill each other over shit that doesn't even exist! Fine! But you're not that much better! So you know what? I take it back—Stephen is so much better than you it's not even a contest. Maybe your 'gross form' doesn't have your knowledge or power or magic; but I'd take his courage and humor and capacity for love over your condescending bullshit any day of the week! You've learned fuck all from what I can tell!" Agamotto had yet to look at him. "And by the way? I don't know if you're aware, asshole, but when humans put a ring on it, that's it. No take-backs."

Agamotto's shoulders remained stiff. Then, softly, "…Single Ladies."

It took a moment for him to comprehend what he just heard. Then Tony let out a bark of laughter, thick with disbelief and tears.

"I Am…Sasha Fierce. Released October 2008—thankfully weeks after the wedding." Agamotto shook his head. "I have much more to learn. You are an interesting human, Anthony Stark." The scythe came down and a rip in space-time opened.

Wong and Christine prepared to sit vigil over their friend. The Ancient One had settled into meditation, serene as ever. Kaecilius took up the spot by the door. If you had asked Wong beforehand, he would have argued that Kaecilius, albeit a taciturn and somewhat bitter man, was above reproach. Recently, however, doubt crept into Wong's mind. It had no real basis, but it covered all of their interactions like a cloud. That was enough for Wong to vow to keep an eye on his fellow master. Perhaps unnecessary, yet-

"How long do you think it will take?" Christine asked. Wong shook his head.

"Time is, and has always been, relative. The difference between realms is impossible to measure." The hand of the clock had just struck 12:01 when the sudden appearance of a dimensional rip startled them all into standing. Christine screamed while Wong immediately brought up his shields. Kaecilius, however, sank to his knees at the sight of a bright energy flowing from the opening like a wave of tears. The shape coalesced into something vaguely humanoid, but the sheer power in such close proximity made it almost impossible to breathe.

"Amazing…this is the answer…" Kaecilius cried. "I am finally in the presence of a God!"

It paused over Stephen's prone form then, with something like a sigh, it sank into the other's body. Stephen's energetic body lit up like a beacon—the Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna sparked like live wire. Wong couldn't bear to keep his gaze on him as Stephen's body arched to nearly contortionist levels and spasmed as it struggled to contain the power. His screams filled the room.

Then nothing.

Stephen jolted into a sitting position with a gasp. His third eye looked about wildly before it closed and faded. He groaned and his spine crackled sickeningly as it reformed. He flexed his hands and rolled his neck.

The Cloak shifted then sprang to life with an eager twirl.

"Stephen?" Breathed Christine.

"…Yeah."

Kaecilius shook his head. "No, you are so much more-!"

"That is enough. He is who he chooses to be. I'm sure you will keep this to yourself?" The Ancient One's eyes narrowed at him.

"…Of course. Of course. I was…stunned and overwhelmed."

Stephen swung his legs off the bed. "I feel like I've slept for a week."

"Stephen, several of your vertebrae—how are you even-?" Christine stuttered.

"Oh, that's what that was. Fill me in on the dirty details later." Stephen walked to the tear and reached through. He smiled a moment later and leaned back. A metal arm followed by the rest of Stark's armor clunked into the rapidly filling space. "Hey."

Stark beamed like the sun. "Hey. You really got an intense gaze there, Blue Eyes."

"You know," Tony started from his place on the sofa, head on Stephen's lap and wanting to be nowhere else.

"Hm?" Sighed Elsa. Boxes of Chinese lay scattered about the table. They made a sizable dent but were too tired to finish. Sofia yawned and patted Tony's cheek in near slumber.

"We should call ourselves the Midnight Sons—since we defeated the Midnight Leviathan and all."

"For the last fucking—huh." She paused, and looked around at the others. No one had outright rejected it; even Blade looked to be considering it.

"That's…not bad," Jackie admitted.

"It's growing on me," added Blade. Shiro looked enthused.

"Oh, I see! It's because we bring light to the darkness."

"I really like it! Let's go design something—like a logo," Zoe said. The three youngest members all but raced off to do so, chatting along the way.

Stephen paused in twirling Tony's bangs between his fingers. "You didn't mean it that way, did you?"

"No, actually; I meant s-o-n not s-u-n…but, hey. His version is more inclusive and they look so happy, I don't have the heart to correct them."

"Not only that, but I seem to recall you promising to take me to the stars." Stephen leaned forward so their gazes could meet. Tony smiled and tugged at a strand of newly white hair.

"And I will. I'll take you wherever you wish to go."

"You're a hard man to pin down, Mr. Stark."

Tony was the only one left at the office, save for some scientists with a terrible work life balance down in the labs and the cleaning staff. New York City, however, remained as busy as ever—rows of headlights moved far down below his window. Tony admired the nearly completed Stark Tower in the distance before answering.

"Oh? Well that's certainly the pot calling the kettle bla-," Tony turned and paused when his eyes finally settled on his visitor. The stone cold glare from the narrowed, er, eye, could have given Wong a run for his money.

Tony cleared his throat. "This is awkward let's move past that. Have a seat, Director."

The man nodded and walked forward to do so. "So you know who I am."

"Yup. It took a lot of elbow grease but it wasn't that difficult. Kudos on your top-notch security, by the way."

"Clearly not the case."

"Well, it wasn't very elegant, I admit. Still. If I had known all I needed to do was tear apart SHIELD's servers to get you to come out of the shadows, I'd have done it ages ago. How's Phil? You know, he kinda grew on me."

Director Fury settled onto the leather chair on the other side of the desk. "Is that so?"

"Don't tell him I said that, you. I'm shy. Drink?" Tony poured himself another glass of cider. The ice clinked in the near silence of the room.

"I'll pass."

"I understand. I hate being handed things, myself. So I'm going to assume you came to see me personally because I've gotten a little…what's the word?"

"You don't know what you're dealing with, Stark," Fury cautioned.

"Unruly. Dangerous, maybe. Now, I don't care for victim-blaming, but seeing as you people did a little tinkering on my property…well, you were asking for it. That person you planted has been subsequently fired, by the way, and on the hook for corporate espionage. I hope you people got a damn good set of lawyers. Mine have gotten a little bored since I settled down and Jones looked to be especially eager. She's getting a fat bonus." Tony faced Fury directly from his own seat. "And to continue on that vein Jarvis has reported multiple attempted breaches. Now, he may just be a series of zeroes and ones to you lot but I consider him to be family. If you keep bothering my family I'll retaliate—and I guarantee I'll be far more successful and far less inclined for mercy."

"…Noted. But again I must caution you, Stark. This world you're trying to enter isn't a kind one; and while it might be fun to swat at hornet's nests the results might not be to your liking. Howard Stark kept you unaware for a reason."

"You know, I don't even disagree with you. But here's the thing—the fact that you've deigned to come down from up on high means I got your het up enough for you to see just how difficult I can make things for you. The problem is, and I'm sure your techs have found out by now, you don't know what I have. The only reason you know I was even there was because I let you know. You don't even know how deep I may or may not have gone. Every time one your people sent an interoffice email or transfers via hard drives was another entry point. Now, don't think I don't give credit where credit should be due—you were right to schedule a complete migration and wipe and that may do it. Or it might not. Man, we'll just have to see for ourselves, won't we?"

Fury leaned back in his seat. His good eye roamed across Tony's face. "Then you know what we do."

"I know what you say you do—hell, I believe you actually believe in what you do."

"Your father believed in the same."

"My father, Devil rest his ornery soul, was a paranoid alcoholic so traumatized from early childhood poverty and anti-Russian sentiment that he grew up to be a controlling, obsessive, emotionally absent man so hopped up on his brand of toxic masculinity that he worshipped an icon of American nationalism and neglected his only child in the process. This, of course, left said child with a barrage of psychological issues. That report you have on me was surprisingly detailed. This is why I quit therapy the first time, by the way. Some people are only in it for the money."

"Goes to show how little you can trust anyone."

"Which brings us closer to why you're actually here. How much can Tony Stark be trusted? Obadiah Stane turned out to be a bad bet—how much influence did he have on Tony Stark? Am I warm?"

"Eh, pretty warm."

"I mean, I already know because I have your texts to Maria Hill pulled up. You should sleep more, Director."

Fury's poker face was a thing to be admired.

"I get it," Tony continued. "I was the exact same. But marriage changes a man. Leave the phone at its charging station and set a firm bedtime and, oh, I can't believe I've lived any other way. I'm sleeping like a baby. When I'm not doing other things. That was innuendo, by the way."

"I'm aware, Stark."

"Let me ease your fears, Director. We are both very busy men. My father provided SHIELD with his time, technology, and resources freely. I respect that. That shit's yours. But while you're using said tech keep in mind it was my father's and I'm well aware of how it works. On top of that? I'm much smarter than he ever was. Your teams of scientists and techs are boring me to tears. And your head scientist Hernandez does good work but his math got a little sloppy in regards to Howard's iteration of repulsor tech. Tell him to tighten up."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll let them know to do better. I can't abide slackers."

"Same. You know, I actually sort of blame myself for this snafu. I've been slacking off myself these past few years. Partying, drinking, drugs…man, I was something else. But this past year has showed me just how lazy I've gotten. Physically; mentally."

"Is that a threat? In addition to the others you've given during our conversation."

"Oh, no, no. That's a promise. You'll find me very focused in the future, Director. Deadly focused."

They stared at each other over the metaphorical chess board between them. Fury moved. "…Self-improvement is important."

"So important. By the way?" Tony slid a thumb drive across the desk. Fury eyed it. "Seriously? I'm already reading your emails just take it."

"What's on it?"

"You got a very bad infestation, Director. Take a look and you'll see I am the least of your worries." Fury nodded. He turned the drive over in his fingers and the usb seemed to vanish into thin air. "Holy shit you have got to show me that trick. My little girl would love that."

"This has been enlightening, Stark."

"Happy to be of service."

"But I wonder if your father would approve. You must know we're not the enemy."

"You're not my friends, either. Besides, my father had a lot of faults. I'm a little jealous, though."

"Oh?"

"Even though Howard worked his way up to become a millionaire, I find this story to be even better: it's one of an Alabama sharecropper scraping together every last cent to his name to send his eldest to the esteemed Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia. Healthy family dynamics-so inspiring. That son was very lucky."

Finally, a twitch. Tony leaned his chin on his clasped hands. "Keep my father's name out of your mouth, and I'll keep yours out of mine."

Chapter Text

"This is KSN and we are live at Ace Hardware where employees say that they saw the, well, still unidentified flying object first hand-"

"-our sources say that this, 'unidentified flying object,' for lack of a better term-"

His co-anchor laughed and nodded at the sheer disbelief on her colleague's face, "Right? And it has taken the entire nation by storm-"

"I mean, what are we looking at here?" Martin Bashir said to his guest, arms raised. "We have what is, basically, a UFO that no one can account for, and the best the United States Government can give is that it was a 'training exercise gone awry.' Really? Who is going to believe such nonsense-"

"I'm tellin' you, man! I saw that shit and it was some kind of alien-"

"An alien—do you hear this? Naw, man, that wasn't no-"

"It was! May the good Lord strike me down if I'm lyin'-"

"Take that mess outside before you get us all killed!" The family broke down into hysterical laughter."

"New reports have come out and it is something that must be seen to be believed. The unidentified flying object is now thought to be in the shape of an android. That's right—a flying metal man-"

"Photos posted online have been confirmed to be authentic and provide us with the best view so far, and folks? I must say it is incredible-"

"Many now believe the metal android, now dubbed 'Iron Man' to have come from California-"

"-and that was President Ellis," Dana Bash of CNN began, eyebrows raised, "mere days after the incident that is the source of growing alarm across the nation. But some say that his speech is more than a day late and several dollars short-"

"Who, or what, is this 'Iron Man'?"

"Who is 'Iron Man'? That is the question everyone is asking these days-"

"Should we be worried? Is this thing good or dangerous-?"

"Who is Iron Man?"

Stephen sipped at his tea as he made his way down the familiar halls of Metro-General. He had one patient file open in his hand with three more, thick with papers and notes, tucked under his arm with the ease of years' long practice. By the time he arrived at his usual floor, he had already been bombarded by multiple greetings and smiles. Stephen did his best to return them because it was…new. He had been missed despite his surliness and tendency for sarcasm when it definitely wasn't warranted nor appropriate. Somehow he had, dare he say it, become liked.

It was weird. Not even the interns cried, anymore.

Just when he thought he was going to have to confront his feelings, Nic West scowling at the sight of him as he took his usual place by Christine sent much needed relief through him.

"God, why are you back?" The other man looked as if someone had told him Santa wasn't real. Stephen had to admit that someone would have been him this time last year. Growth and self-development—who would have thought?

"Nic, you flirt. I missed you, too." Stephen settled back with a smirk. "But not in front of the others—if my husband finds out it'll be awkward."

"Oh, yes. How could I forget," Nic drawled.

"You should get that checked. I can open up a spot—just for you."

"Spare me. It's bad enough I have to see your face." Nic's brows furrowed. "And what the hell happened to your hair?" He motioned to the streaks of white that covered his temples.

"The past few months have been so stressful, Nic. First my dearest husband-"

"Victim," Nic grunted.

"-went missing. And then I had to run a multi-billion dollar company despite my heartbreak. You know how soft and delicate I am." Stephen ignored Christine's not-so-discreet cough.

"Yeah, whatever-" Anything else he was going to say was interrupted by Dr. Fuller standing and beginning the meeting.

Despite his long absence it hadn't taken much to get back into the swing of things. Rotations were assigned, nurses were consulted, and patient files were updated. Through it all, however, Nic kept…looking at him. Which was, sigh, strange given their mutual dislike. He and Nic may have buried the hatchet in the past but that was gone, now. Stephen wondered if he should try once more. Granted, he'd been too busy for it, but he could try. Nic wasn't a bad man.

When the meeting adjourned, Stephen held back and waited for the others to trickle out. Christine briefly raised an eyebrow when he gestured for her to go ahead.

"So, Nic. I was joking but if you want to confess I must tell you it's far too late. Unless you came into a stupid amount of money—in which case I can be convinced."

Nic made face. "How the hell did you become worse?" Stephen raised his brows and clicked his tongue.

"Worse? That assumes I, at some point, have stopped being the best."

"Oh, here we go."

"Nic, I get it. You put in your hours, too. Worked yourself to the bone in medical school and residency and doing all the steps. Late nights. Blood, sweat, tears. Meanwhile, a genius jumps ahead in line by virtue of hard work and inborn talent and rubs it in your face…repeatedly."

"I was going to say asshole."

"Fair enough. I am. But I'm a handsome asshole and the Director's favorite." Stephen lifted his cup in Dr. Fuller's direction. The Medical Director did the same with his and pointed at Stephen with a smile.

"Don't tell him I told you but his backswing is garbage," Stephen muttered.

"Enough, Strange. I know."

Stephen stopped his teasing to parse over Nic's words. "Know what? Is this about when Tony visited? Look, what we do in my office is our business-"

"What? No! God, stop. You better have disinfected everything you touched."

"Don't be so insulting, Nic. This is a hospital. A place of healing."

"That didn't stop you from—ugh! Now I'm thinking about it."

"We're an attractive pair. Understandable."

Nic glared and him and gritted out, "I mean, I know."

Stephen stared at him.

Nic sighed and wriggled his fingers. Stephen glanced around to see if anyone else was bearing witness to Nic taking leave of his senses.

"I…if you do need to see someone, in all seriousness, I can make room and do a private consultation-"

"No, Strange." Nic all but jabbed his fingers at Stephen, curling them into clumsy mudras—ah.

Well. Shit.

"I think I see, now. Apologies, I thought you were having an episode of some kind."

"I want answers and you're going to give them to me."

"I don't take orders well, Nicodemus West," Stephen's voice dropped barely above a whisper and he straightened up to his full height.

Nic swallowed but jutted his chin out in stubbornness. "I…I haven't been able to understand what happened since that night. When things got weird. You gotta—I just need to understand."

Stephen sighed and nodded.

"Nic, the both of us are up to our eyeballs in patients, but I'm free next Thursday. I will be at the cafe across the street after our shifts. If you decide to come, you'll get what you want. However."

"Yeah?" Nic asked.

"Consider carefully if you really think you can handle it."

"Sugarplum! What brings you to New York? Still seeing Ms. Ronnie I bet, you sly dog." Tony all but threw his paperwork to the side. Thank fuck—he was glad things have settled but he had not missed this part of the job. Taking over as CEO again was a real drag, even if his Board was far too pleased with the change.

Tony should have Stephen drop by for kicks, sometime—Greene was getting uppity.

Rhodey, decked out in his uniform, adornments and all, only huffed in response as he took the seat before Tony's desk. He  hitched up his trousers to cross his legs. Damn; whenever Rhodey took that pose he tended to mean business. Tony's eyes flickered towards the slim briefcase by his friend's feet before twisting his lips in a grin.

"Tones." Rhodey greeted. "Just came up this way from DC and visiting my mother."

"And how is Mama Rhodes? Haven't taken Fi to see her yet—she still mad?"

Rhodey laughed. "Listen, man, you're getting a pass because of the kidnapping but you're pushing your luck. Consider that your warning."

"Noted. I'll call her. So what's the word, baby bird?"

"Baby bird—? Whatever. Anyway, had an emergency meeting and they wanted my expertise. Seems that they finally got some new information on that bogey that sent the country in a panic a few weeks back."

Tony blinked. "Oh? That's good news. I know they were investigating that—worried that it was some foreign weapon."

"Mmhmm. Had the National Guard scrambling for weeks. Problem was it moved too fast and was far too…*small*-" Tony felt his right eye twitch. Rhodey smiled before continuing, "-to get a real good visual on it—blurry pictures on social media notwithstanding. At least, until now. Fortunately, the amateur photographer was a vet and needed little prompting to keep what she had classified. Reason it took so long was she wasn't sure who to reach out to at first."

Tony hummed and tapped his pen against the wood grain of his desk. After Nightmare, he and Stephen and the girls had retreated to their own, little bubble. By the time they came out it was chaos across various news channels as shooting across the country at high speed in a metal suit was, apparently, conspicuous as fuck. Oops. Tony had opted for a wait and see approach. Although noisy, those who happened to catch sight of him only managed glimpses, and even that had been tenuous as no one could agree on what the fuck they saw. When the usual suspects (China and Russia to start) denied any involvement, the current theory had settled on aliens. Stephen had laughed for days.

Rhodey watched him before nodding and reaching down to pick up his briefcase and opened it. He took out a couple of photos, about legal size, and tossed them on the desk between them. It showed a view of the Adirondacks in early summer. No doubt the photographer had been taking advantage of the lovely weather; and, therefore, had managed to catch Mark III when he had slowed down enough to assess and engage. It was fortunate that the angle prevented the photographer from seeing what Tony had been looking at—the road had been hidden—but that was it. Unlike what was going around Twitter and the Reddit forums, this was a high definition shot.

Man, Tony thought, I am so fucking cool.

"Would you look at that marvel of technology and genius? Whoever designed that is truly a master of their craft and possesses a mind few can match. I'm stunned."

Rhodey snorted and shook his head. "See, here's the thing. Before your bullshit video call-"

"Wow. I was so torn up and emotional and that's how you describe it-"

"-you mentioned something about a…suit."

"Did I? I was referring to my newest Tom Ford."

"Oh? So you dove into the depths of a nightmare realm—and I can't believe those words came out of my mouth."

"I feel you. Half the time Steph can't believe what I do with mine-"

"AND." Rhodey sent him an unimpressed glare. He was getting more like Mama Rhodes by the year."You say you did it in a designer three piece? Not in some sort of high-tech protective suit of armor?"

"Sour patch, that's exactly what I'm saying. I was dressed to kill." Tony smiled at Rhodey's eye roll.

"Yeah, well, you know, I kinda like the hotrod red, but that's not my sort of thing."

"You need to relax more. Take Ronnie and her girls out to see a movie. Riri's in remission, right? Celebrate!"

They stared at each other before dissolving into snickers. Rhodey shook his head and gathered up the pictures. "I don't know what I thought was going to happen when I came here."

"You know me all too well. Don't tell Steph that, he gets jealous." Tony paused, then said, "Do you really wanna know?"

"Not right now. The less I know the better, but Tones—you should watch yourself. There aren't many, if any, people besides you on this planet that can pull off that type of hardware. I know that. The brass know that. And General Ross already hates your guts."

"Funny you should say that, I don't much care for him, either. He better be glad Stephen's more vicious than I am; otherwise, I might take exception to how he badgered my poor, defenseless husband while I was indisposed."

"Are we talking about the same Stephen?" Rhodey scoffed.

"My baby's so delicate. He was so upset at Ross's bullying-"

"I thought the CIA and FBI refuse to speak to him anymore unless supervised."

"Oh. Only those two? He needs to step up his game."

"This is what I get for associating with you two freaks-"

"Love you, too, sugarplum! Now when are you stopping by for dinner? Sofia misses her Mario Kart buddy."

Rhodey groaned and said, "Destroyed by a six year old. Between her and Riri I won't have any self-esteem left."

Tony entered Stephen's now very crowded penthouse (the tower would be finished in a few months and not a moment too soon) to the familiar smell of his mother's signature dish. Stephen was at the stove in his (non-sexy) apron, but Tony knew the other man was well aware of him.

"Ooh, so, what bad news are you going to tell me?" Tony asked.

"Who said anything about that? Maybe I wanted to do something nice for my loving husband." They stared at each other.

"…You really said that with a straight face. The nerve of you."

"There is nothing straight about me or this marriage."

"Touché! Well, out with it."

"One of my coworkers figured out my extracurricular activities," Stephen admitted, turning back to the dish simmering on the stove.

"Which extracurricular? If it's the one I like how much do I need to pay them off?" Tony hummed and scratched his chin. "But I thought I erased the security feed to your office and saved the footage for future enjoyment?"

"No, Arno, the other—wait. What did you save?"

"SO ANYWAY, I'm guessing you mean your magic thing?"

Stephen canted his head to the side and said, "I assumed so. Thinking on it he didn't say outright—and he wiggled his fingers."

"Then he was definitely talking about the fun extracurricular," Tony joked, smacking Stephen on the hip as he passed. Stephen scowled after him but was ignored in favor of plucking the sparkling white grape juice from the fridge. Forget scotch, that was like liquid cocaine and Tony would know. "And, hey, don't worry. Yours truly also has some news to share. According to Rhodey the government has pictures of Mark III in action, so it's only a matter of time someone comes knocking at our door."

"Lovely. How do you want to handle this? You're still working on Howard's discovery, are you not?"

Tony sighed and scratched the area around the reactor out of habit. Agamotto had done him a questionable favor when he healed them up—he reset the clock, so to speak, but that hadn't solved the root of the problem. It figured that out of all the deities he could have married he went with the asshole (and he wouldn't change a thing!). By the time Tony was leaving their bedroom, tugging on an old Black Sabbath shirt as he did so, Jackie and Zoe were setting the table while Stephen floated over the dishes of food. Tony snagged his tablet from the couch and looked around.

"Where's my little Fi-Fi?"

Zoe looked embarrassed as she answered. "Um, Dr. Stephen put her in time out with Cloak."

"She decided that paper wasn't good enough for her paints and that the ceiling was better. Cloak assisted," Stephen gestured up. Tony followed his gaze to see what appeared to be the grass of an open field with crude figures of the Midnight Suns underneath seven bright red circles. It took Tony a minute to realize they were supposed to be suns.

"…Huh. I demand you release my precious Fi she is innocent," Tony argued.

"She'll be out in three minutes."

"I cannot believe you have such disrespect for the arts. Look at that composition. You would have hanged Michelangelo for his work on the Sistine Chapel, you heathen."

"He was commissioned for that. Your daughter wasn't."

Tony scoffed and turned to Jackie. "You see this? When she's being a free thinker suddenly she's my daughter. The hypocrisy. Don't think I haven't forgotten a certain someone leveled a department store-"

"That was a demon exorcism that went awry-!"

"And I had to pay for the damages done at Kamar-Taj—that's right, I have your mom on speed dial and she told me everything."

Stephen gaped, but rallied quickly. "Well I have Pepper on my speed dial and I think I should tell her whose fault it was that those expense reports went missing."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try and stop me."

"Um," Jackie piped up, glancing between them with a look of resignation. "Can we eat, now?"

"Oh thank goodness we eat on this table," Zoe mumbled.

"You're way too late for that, ZZ Top." Tony ignored her shriek of dismay to further examine the damage. "Aw, and she even drew Jamie…crying over his missing arm, though. Should we be worried about that? She seems to have a thing for dismemberment."

"I wouldn't be that concerned. She's sticking to acceptable targets," said Stephen with a shrug.

"True enough. Speaking of tormenting older men-"

"Ah, yes. My other, favorite pastime."

"And you are so good at it. But anyway I got a text from Red, today. The banshee hunt went down with no problems."

"Oh, good. Her lead panned out."

"Sure did. A~nd? She is having the time of her life putting our thawed out comrade through his paces."

"Is that ethical? Considering he's a POW and a torture victim with a laundry list of traumas we may never be able to uncover?" Stephen asked. 

"I mean, probably not. She reminds me of you, though. Bet you a hundred the wedding will be next spring."

"I am nothing like Elsa—she's far too crude. And it'll be a fall wedding."

"Easy money." Tony turned back to his tablet and whistled as he flipped through the scanned pages. It would be the umpteenth time he would go through Howard's notes, but that nagging feeling had yet to abate. It wasn't only that he very much wanted to live, but if he had to stomach down any more of those green smoothies he was going to revolt. It was weird enough that Shiro loved the stuff—apparently it was very similar to the aojiru they drank in Japan.

"Tony, I told you, no working at the dinner table," Stephen called. Tony sighed, true enough, and lowered his tablet. The shift in positioning caused the picture orientation to change—a new feature he was still on the fence about—in his peripheral.

He froze.

Tony jerked the tablet back up and twisted the scan around. It was the beginning designs of the Stark Expo complex, drawn up by Howard around 1972 from the notes along the margins. Tony allowed his eyes to unfocus and take in the whole picture—take in the top down view. Holy shit.

"I," he announced, "am an idiot."

Stephen glanced at Zoe and Jackie before responding, "Are you expecting me to disagree, or…?"

"Enough of your teasing, you. Portal me to the Malibu lab." Tony ran back to their room and haphazardly gathered up all the notes and printouts he had made. He was so fucking—Howard had all but pointed it out to him! His father was many things but poetic was certainly not one. He was the type to say what he meant point blank whether you liked it or not. Tony had assumed it was the idea of Stark Expo—or maybe even the serum; Howard's rare display of sentimentality had reinforced it. But what if he was being 100% percent literal like he had always been?

Tony ran back out to, thankfully, the now familiar sight of a golden portal. His lab lay just beyond.

"Tony, did you…?" Stephen trailed off, but he looked hopeful.

"I don't know how long I'll be don't wait up!" Tony dashed through the portal, then doubled back to give Stephen a kiss. "Love you say bye to Fi for me!" Then he was back in Malibu. He had to get to LA, first—he had a display model to pick up.

"I guess we'll see him in about a week," Zoe was saying as the portal closed.

"Sir, are you aware you aren't wearing any shoes?"

General Thaddeus Ross has had a long and decorated career. He had sacrificed everything in service to his country and would do so again and again with pride. With honor, just as his forefathers had done all the way back to even before the American Revolution. A letter from General Washington himself had been carefully preserved and lay in the Smithsonian for all to see—penned to his ancestor in acknowledgment of his valor. Ross would not, could not, let this stain remain.

The United States government, for decades, had been trying to recreate the lightning strike that had resulted in Captain America. Research had reached a lull up until September 11th—then, the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project became all the more necessary. They had known that the serum combined with a machine built by Howard Stark had been the only form of success. Howard, fool that he was, wasted decades of his time looking for the science experiment—Ross couldn't complain too much as he made up for it ten fold with advanced weaponry. America's dominance was assured; although, in the back of Ross's mind, he knew there was always the chance of their enemies discovering a Howard or Tony Stark of their own. It was only by luck of geography that the Starks were American citizens. That could change—and they had to be ready.

Initially, Ross was somewhat content with the Stark scion's output. He despised the man's lack of discipline—Howard should have enrolled the boy in West Point, that would have straightened him out—but he proved to be just as inventive as his father so Ross let it be. He had other things to worry about, such as Banner's gross stupidity in experimenting on himself. Ross wasn't an egghead but even he knew better than to shit where you eat. The utter fool. It had taken quite a bit of talking and calling in favors and deleting evidence to come back from that, and to keep Betty out of trouble on top of it. Not that his daughter appreciated his efforts—especially as the project was so top secret not even members of Congress had the clearance to access it. The only good thing that came out of that mess was his daughter finally coming to her senses about Banner, just as he'd warned her.

Shame she refused to see the Green Beret he'd tried to set her up with.

But then Tony Stark had to go get himself kidnapped. And married to a man—openly! Ross had no problems with it of course, but Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been policy for a reason and quite a fair compromise he thought. But sure enough, Stark's husband was unreasonable and shut down the main source for the United States Army's fire power. Typical of their lot—overly dramatic and a complete lack of spine.

Well, if you wanted something done right.

It hadn't been hard to get the approval to up the manhunt on Banner soon after that. His good friend Joe came through as always. His fellow countrymen were beginning to sweat at the loss of Stark weaponry—Stane's treasonous actions (Ross will take care of him, next—traitors should be hanged like the dogs they were) made them all the more willing to do whatever it took to get Banner back into their grasp. Within Banner's skin and blood lay the potential key to the next evolution of soldier. The Strategic Operations Command Center was primed and ready to apprehend the creature.

But Ross learned well from his mistakes and picked up on Banner's habits. The man liked it warm—less stressful than having to deal with extreme climates, with a population density where he could be lost in the crowd. The ethnic and racial diversity should be high enough that he could pass as a local with little issue. And it had to be a country with corrupt border security and law enforcement that would be willing to take a payment to look the other way and ignore the lack of visa. With those criteria in mind? It hadn't been that difficult—time consuming and tedious, but not impossible. 

He had studied military strategy at his father's knee—read and re-read the philosophies of the great military leaders of yore. He wasn't so prideful to deny that he had let his emotions get the best of him, before. Now? All he need do was make use of the gigantic military budget to apply constant, unending pressure. 

Europe was out of the running almost immediately—it didn't quite fit and the cost of living prohibitive in most countries. Traveling overseas, in general, without the correct documentation nor connections in this day and age? Unlikely. Banner was too poor even if his accounts hadn't been frozen, and no one was going to risk federal prison for the man. It couldn't be so remote that Banner was unable to access the resources he needed for his little cure. He had stuttered out that much before running like a coward. Ross had no reason to believe that had changed. Frankly, as they narrowed it down and tightened the noose Ross was almost disappointed. Keep up the pressure, and watch. Like a spider waiting for prey to trip its web.

They hit gold in Rio. Constant stress would make anyone short tempered. A few calls to the various Presidents south of the border and they gladly added their forces to the hunt. Ross didn't tell them the exact nature of the situation, of course, but none of them wanted a dangerous American running around within their borders. Nicaragua was keen on it—honestly, the grudges some people kept. President Reagan did what he had to do. As of right now they were driving the man northward. Eventually he would be back on American soil. Then? Some good could still come out of this mess.

And if Ross could get a little payback after Banner's negligence and idiocy put his little girl in the hospital? Well. One should enjoy one's job, after all.

"What was the name of that special-ops specialist, again? The one on loan from SOCOM?" Ross asked as he climbed into the humvee.

"Emil Blonsky, sir." A straight-backed sergeant replied with acceptable precision.

"Right, right. Call him up. He may be just what I need."

"Sir!"

God Bless America.

Chapter Text

A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. It made a line along his nose and across his upper lip—leaving a salty aftertaste after he wiped it away; still, his eyes didn't veer from the computer screen. Bruce remembered a time when he had access to cutting edge technology and software and equipment at his fingertips. The computers at Culver would have been done with the calculations in moments—it was partially why his attempts at making a cure had fallen through so often. Bruce would like to think he wouldn't become so out of touch to forget how privileged it was to have working equipment. His old schools barely had cooling. But he had gotten arrogant. He'd forgotten. He had pushed it all down down down and blocked it out and pretended his childhood hadn't been a shit-show.

God, what a fool he'd been. And now the anger he'd worked so hard to shove down had turned him into a literal monster. Now everyone could see him as he truly was—no different than his father.

Bruce held his breath when the CPU stuttered, threatened to give up under the weight of the tasks he was forcing it through, but it came through. Red. Failure. Bruce shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. It took everything in him not to slam the laptop shut. He grit his teeth but made certain to be slow and careful as he entered a few commands into the prompt.

> Calculations complete. No go.

Mr. Blue, whoever he was, had been a life saver. Not just another brilliant mind to bounce ideas off of, but his companionship had kept Bruce sane somedays. But even between the two of them he was running out of ideas—running out of avenues to try. 

The beeping from his computer shook him from his light doze.

"Damn," Bruce cursed softly and risked poking his head above the desk he was hiding under. Nothing. Okay. He couldn't afford to fall asleep here and get discovered by a worker.

>> I was afraid of that. Don't tell me where you are now, but how soon can you get here?

Bruce bit his lip and typed: > Risky. I'm being chased.

>> Living with the Green man? Even riskier.

Well, that was an unfortunate point. Every time he thought he'd have a chance to breathe it was taken away from him. It was only due to Mr. Blue's assurance of the security of their connection (and desperate hope) that he even continued.

> You're right. This isn't working. No resources.

>> Then you need to get somewhere that has them. Find a way to get to NYC.

Bruce sighed and dropped his chin in defeat. A few moments later he was gingerly pressing the keys to reply.

> I'm gonna try one more place, first.

The benefits with working at one of the world's leading research hospitals as an equally prestigious doctor was no one really questioned him on his comings and goings. All he had to do was look busy and doors opened for him. Christine, moral and upright citizen that she was, usually opted to underplay her accomplishments and forego any privileges. Stephen figured he should do the same, but old habits and all that. Even worse was that he was a terrible influence; which was how they found themselves down in the morgue, staring down at a relatively fresh corpse. Unlike Jackie, this was a mauling designed to kill.

Christine sighed and said, "This cannot be ethical. I cannot believe I let you talk me into delaying this poor man being released to his grieving family-"

"Don't worry," Stephen muttered as he flipped through the folder in his grasp. "I'll take full responsibility."

"Spare me. At this point you could stab a man on Fuller's desk and he would offer to pay for a replacement and dispose of the body."

"Now you're being ridiculous. Tony would take care of that—all our esteemed medical director need do is provide an alibi."

"…I can't stand you-"

"Moving on, dear; this man was discovered in Queens, correct?" Stephen glanced over the name. "Benjamin Parker, hm?"

Christine's next sigh was world weary and probably a sign of burgeoning nihilism. Yet, she answered. "Right. A late night jogger found him."

"Jogging. Revolting."

"Unlike the exposed cervical vertebrae."

"Please. If you've seen one you've seen them all."

"…And what are you even reading?"

"The police report. It's pathetic, by the way. I knew NYPD was corrupt at best but-"

"HOW did you get that?? Did you hack their database or something?"

"Hacking into unauthorized places is my husband's wheelhouse, not mine."

"I thought Tony was busy with a project?"

"Oh, he is. He let me borrow Jarvis. Honestly, with all the money the mayor keeps handing over you would think their security wouldn't be so pathetic."

Christine stared at him then back at the corpse. "Okay. So, why did you drag me down here?"

"It's always best to get a second opinion."

"Oh? Your rat theory isn't good enough?"

"You laugh but when they reach the size of a small terrier you'll regret minimizing my concerns."

"God you're weird."

"Not only that, but you're in Emergency way more often than I am. New York is home to millions and with even more places to hide. I need you to keep an eye out. Anything out of place, anything-"

"Strange?"

"…I will absolutely fight you don't think I'll let your cute dimples stop me."

"Meet you out back at 3 o'clock." Christine's smirk had massively improved—Stephen proudly credited himself for that. "And is that any way to talk to someone?"

"I say it out of love, of course. Don't tell my husband."

"Ooh, will he be jealous?" Christine teased.

"Hardly. He'd ask for a threesome," Stephen sighed, already imagining it and the headaches it would bring. "If not that then he'd be batting his big, brown eyes and begging for a show. He has multiple kinks."

Christine coughed and fell silent. Smart of her.

"So why don't we keep our trysts a secret so my husband doesn't over-excite himself? Now, will you keep an eye out for me?" His friend rallied and tapped her chin in thought.

"Dinners. Multiple. A new handbag and a box of those chocolates I like."

"Done and done." They smiled at each other. "But now who's engaging in questionable behavior? That sounded like extortion."

"Yes, well, if I'm going to do something anyway I may as well get something out of it."

"I am a terrible influence. You're doing amazing, by the way—keep it up." Christine regarded him for a long moment before speaking.

"Thinking on it, how did you even find out about this? Like you said, you've been out of ER and we get a lot of patients coming through here for all kinds of things. What made you notice this one?"

"That was the other issue." With a gloved hand Stephen reached over and lifted the poor man's upper lip. Rigor mortis made it somewhat difficult, but the lack of blood made the letters easy to see.

STEPHEN. 

"It's a good thing our staff is so thorough," Stephen murmured as Christine turned wide eyes in his direction. "A very good thing."

Sofia liked Sofia's name. It sounded soft—was said sweetly. Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. If they had a name before Sofia they didn't remember. But it didn't matter now.

They liked painting the best. The bright colors were so different than the never-ending dark and gray from before. Before the jar—that human had been nice, though. Much nicer than that broken one, Kulan. Mother was better. Sofia had called Mother "Maker" before because he had made Sofia a host of their very own they didn't have to share—to keep forever! None of Sofia's kin could boast that! The host was everything; life was meaningless without one. But now she had one to experience things for herself. It was like a reward after suffering for so long. But Father had told Sofia all about human families and how they worked and it had become clear. Sofia and Mother had been tied together. Mother gave his magic and nutrients. Then they came from his body in a wave of blood. The process was much faster than a human fetus, but Sofia understood.

The clothes thing they still didn't get—Sofia didn't get cold or need protection, but needs must.

Mother. Mother.

Mother smiled at them as if they had called them vocally. Mother always responded even though Sofia didn't communicate like humans did. Humans with their strange languages. Mother hadn't said anything before he placed them on his hip and opened a gateway to Kamar-Taj, but Sofia felt him like always. When he was hurt it was agonizing. Sofia was still mad at Metal Arm even though Mother wasn't. Sometimes Sofia wanted to bite his new arm but Father told them not to because he put a surprise in it—just in case Metal Arm tried to hurt Mother again. Father was so smart! And that was a good thing because Mother was too nice. Now, though, Mother had a furrow in his brow as he had his meeting. 

Sofia paused in their painting to look at it with a critical eye. Sometimes images would come and they had to make sense of them. This was as strange as the rest. At first it was darkness with other squirming masses—their siblings—with flashes of red that shot through like lightning. That was from eons ago, when Sofia's Creator (different than Mother; Creator was cold) made them from the Abyss. Now, though, the pictures were different.

Wings. Big. Falling. Rage. Whispers. Sometimes Sofia couldn't sleep because of whispering.

Sofia grunted in displeasure. That wasn't right, either. Before they reached for another parchment to try again another of Mother's friends approached. Humans came in so many amazing colors and shapes; this one's skin was even darker than Sofia's but his hair was short and curly. He and Mother bared their teeth in a way that humans did when they were supposed to be friendly, but unlike Mother's heart, his felt wrong. Sofia grumbled and scrambled to their feet. Mother was too nice how was Sofia supposed to protect him when kept getting into trouble?

Sofia wrapped their arms around Mother's leg and made the appropriate human expression to show her displeasure. The tall man then smiled down at her and spoke. But Sofia saw through his words. He didn't like Mother, but why? Mother was good. When they first connected Sofia had been drunk from the difference between Mother and Kulan. Mad Kulan. Greedy Kulan. Enraged Kulan. This human was mad but his face held a smile.

Mother patted Sofia's head and then lifted her up. Sofia wanted to hiss but Mother and Father and ZZ and even Ji scolded them when they did. Sofia didn't like that rule. They laid their cheek on Mother's shoulder and kept watch. What was that human planning? Sofia's dreams could be forgotten for now.

One reason Bruce had shied away from returning to Virginia was the temptation. Delivering pizza wasn't exactly something he had ever seen himself doing, but Stan had really saved his ass. It was an easy job to keep off the books—getting away with being paid in cash under the table was another bonus.

Yet, the temptation made his gut clench. She was so close. There was no way he could allow them to meet; yet, he couldn't stop himself from looking her up. Still at Culver—still as beautiful. Still kind and warm and filled with genius inspiration, no doubt. With another man. Well, it was only a matter of time. Of course it hurt to stay away, but once they figured out his gigantic green problem things could—could they even go back to the way they were? It was pure luck he hadn't killed her outright; it was only thanks to the neurosurgeons at Metro-General in NYC that she had made a full recovery from the damage he'd caused. God, she probably hated him. Maybe she'd let him beg for forgiveness. If he could just manage that he'd accept whatever punishment came his way.

First, however, he had a cure to synthesize.

Sneaking past security was all too easy this point, and he remembered the layout of the university well. It hadn't changed in the relatively short time he had been gone. He knew how to avoid the cameras and the door that could be jingled open just so. He knew the backup logins (good lord they should really look into cyber security at some point). With this Bruce felt hope that this entire nightmare would come to an end. Tonight, however? That yet another dead end. New York was looking to be his last chance.

Bruce sighed and as he entered through the back into the kitchen of the restaurant. Stan always kept a well-ordered kitchen and tonight was no different. Even in the low-light the pots and cutlery gleamed. Bruce frowned when he didn't see the elderly pizzeria owner right away. The restaurant was closed and the tills counted and locked up.

"Stan?" Bruce called, setting down his bag. He saw the lights still on out front and—honestly, it must have been the exhaustion. The constant running and fear and scraping by from one day to the next with no end in sight. He should have known better than to just waltz out as if he wasn't wanted by the United States Army. But he did.

And there was Betty looking back at him. So Bruce did what he did best. The martial arts training had made him quick on his feet. He grabbed his jacket and bag and was out the back. Knowing he wouldn't make it to the end of the alley by the time she caught up, he hid behind the dumpster. He made it just in time—the sound of Betty's heels clicked against the pavement as she called for him. She even sounded the same. Bruce worked to keep his heart and breaths slow as Betty's boyfriend joined her outside. He waited until the man had convinced her to come back inside.

"Idiot," he grunted to himself as he tugged on his jacket and resignedly made his way out to the street. "Careless."

One of the things Bruce hadn't noticed about the US until he'd left it was that it really wasn't made for pedestrians. Rain had started to pour, because of course it did, and he had little choice but to take his chances walking along the shoulder of an open road. He half-heartedly held out his thumb to the cars passing by, but Bruce expected little from that front. God knows he probably wouldn't have pulled over for a strange man walking in the rain.

He crossed onto a bridge when his form was bathed in headlights and the sound of squeaking brakes. He stopped. Somehow Bruce knew. He should keep going. Maybe leap off the side and take his chances. Instead, he turned around. Betty hadn't bothered putting on a coat at all. Her white blouse and dark hair quickly becoming soaked in the downpour. She smiled. She smiled at him even though he'd nearly killed her and left her and never contacted her for years. When she started running towards him all could do was the same.

There were so many things he had imagined saying—they all went forgotten. He squeezed her tight and shut his eyes, grateful the rain hid his tears. Betty's easy forgiveness was nearly more painful than the anger he had imagined.

They breathed in each other. Occasionally, one would pull back just so they could look at the other's face to confirm it was reality. Finally, Betty placed warm hands on his cheeks and met his eyes.

"I want you to come with me now. Please?" She asked. "Come with me."

Bruce had yet to be able to refuse her.

The house was new. The decor suited her. The sofas held cushions so thick you could sink in them and become lost like Rip van Winkle. Thick carpets lay scattered about the hardwood, offsetting the dark furniture. It also looked barely inhabited. Betty hadn't changed in that aspect. She lived at the university more than he had. She urged him to sit down and disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned, they smiled at each other again. Bruce could almost convince himself nothing had changed.

She held a small, oval box. Bruce blinked in confusion but opened it to reveal a usb drive.

"It's our data," she said. "I got in there before they carted it all away."

Bruce held it between his fingers, awed at her audacity. She must have still been injured when that happened. He swallowed.

"I hoped with more time it could tell us something, someday," Betty finished.

"Does the General know that you have this?" Bruce asked.

Betty shook her head. "No. I don't think so, at least. I haven't spoken to him in a couple of years."

Flickers of hope rose in chest; years on the run made him push it down. "You have to be sure."

"Bruce," Betty began. "Help me understand. He hasn't said anything…you were…you were gone."

He bowed his head, only to lift it when she tapped his knee.

"I'm not angry. Well, I'm not angry at you at any rate. You wouldn't have left if things weren't bad. But I'm worried for you. I don't know why we can't go in there together and talk to-"

"Because he told me what he wanted to do." Bruce had known the relationship between the General and his only child could be fraught sometimes; the last thing he wanted was to be the cause of it to fracture. For all his faults General Ross thought the sun shone from Betty's eyes—it was so different from his own parent a part of him just…couldn't do it. But now, well.

"Do? Do what?" Betty pressed.

Bruce sighed and confessed, "He wants it out of me. He wants to dissect it so he could replicate it."

Betty stared at him in horror.

"He wants to make it a weapon."

"What does that look like to you, Jarvis?"

"So we were right to include the Belgian Waffle stands?" Kids grew so fast—Tony almost burst with pride. Although, he may have to credit his precious husband's endless stream of sarcasm and disdain for mediocrity for Jarvis's additional spice.

"Fun fact: Howard could whip up a mean Belgian waffle. It almost made his emotional neglect tolerable. So, what do you think?" Tony turned the wireframe vertical. There were some differences between the 1972 plans and the final 1974 model; Howard's thinking, even then, had grown in sophistication. Tony had to give the old man his props.

"I'm going to assume the answer you're looking for isn't Belgian waffles-"

"What is with you and those waffles? J, work with me."

"Apologies. The Doctor gave strict instructions to 'torment' you in his absence."

"Ohhh, that little minx. It almost makes a man want to propose all over again. Seriously, though—it's an atom." Tony traced his fingers along the globe. "In which case the nucleus would be…here. Highlight it for me."

Tony clapped his hands and spread his fingers. The Unisphere enlarged accordingly. The real steel structure was still standing in Queens, not far from the manor. It was a symbol for the coming of a new age, brought on by the Space Race and the development of ARC energy.

"The Key to the Future…" Tony breathed. The adrenaline made him jittery—now that he'd gone clean he had to make do with pacing to keep him focused. "The nucleus is composed of neutrons and protons—"

"What is it you are trying to achieve, Sir?" Jarvis asked.

"Discovering—correction, rediscovering a new element, I believe. Nothing big." He scratched his chin and snapped his fingers as he created and discarded thoughts like rapid-fire. "Got it, those footpaths need to go. That shit, too…lose the bathrooms. Landscaping—trees. Parking lots, exits, entrances…"

He was close. More, he needed a little more. This was also a test on how well he knew his father. Going through S.H.I.E.L.D's coffers had offered up surprising insights, but, in the end this is what it came down to. Figures. Howard had been inscrutable as a rule. WWHD, indeed.

Tony ran a hand down his face. Than a lightbulb. "The pavilions."

"Sir?" asked Jarvis.

"Structure the nucleons using the pavilions as a framework." Tony enlarged the structure further, allowing the shapes to slowly build and form a coherent structure. Science may be making new leaps forward every day, but there were rules—magic bullshit notwithstanding. By the time the simulation had finished Tony's brain was miles ahead—he saw it in his mind's eye as clear as day. He expanded the globe so that the smaller spheres surrounded him and lit up the room. Well, maybe he had a magic all his own.

"Twenty years and he's still taking me to school." Tony shrunk the world until it fit in his fingertips. It was mesmerizing to look at. He turned it over with a smile. This was the beginning. Tony wasn't nearly content with this. "Jarvis? Bring up Daddy's new pride and joy."

"Is that appropriate, Sir? Was that not for the Doctor's birthday-"

"NO, no. Not that one. My other, shiny, new toy."

"Wasn't that for your upcoming wedding anniversary-"

"MARK VI, Jarvis. MARK. SIX. Front and center."

"Ah, very well, Sir." Tony grumbled as the schematics for his improved suit appeared before him. He and Jarvis had gone over the data compiled from their recent adventure and he had several new things to implement. He could do more—be more. Tony plopped the new element right where the ARC reactor sat. The wireframe turned red.

"Sir, this implies a theoretical element not currently found on the Periodic Table."

"I think it can be more than theoretical," whispered Tony. His gaze followed the blue lines that simulated his major arteries and flowed up to the simulated heart. Stephen had a grand time configuring those. He could be a real nerd. Speaking of.

"I will run a simulation to check element viability-" Jarvis began.

"Yeah, okay, whatever—I know it's going to work. In the meantime, get my wifey on the phone."

"Sir, I don't think that's wise-"

"Hush, you. Get him on!"

"I'll contact the funeral home as well." Tony almost missed that remark as he spun around in his chair. After a long while Stephen's voice filled the lab.

"These had better be your last words because it is two forty-five in the morning."

"Whoa, seriously? I thought it was ten am. J, you really dropped the ball."

Jarvis said, "My apologies. It appears my performance has become proportional to the amount you pay me."

"…Well, this just became awkward from a philosophical and ethical standpoint. Let's move past that," Tony chuckled and cleared his throat.

"Do you even know what day it is?" His husband sighed.

"'Do I even know-' pfft. Of course I do."

"… ...You have no idea-"

"I have no idea. Is it Tuesday?"

"Shower before you come home. I am deadly serious."

"I was going to! But, hey, good news. Your amazing, genius, devastatingly handsome husband-"

"Oh, is he with you? Put him on."

"Tease. But yours truly rediscovered a new element!"

Stephen yawned and muttered. "Oh, that's right—you did do that."

Tony frowned as he ran the sentence over in his head. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.

"I am running the simulations to confirm its viability as we speak, Doctor," Jarvis said.

"Excellent as always, Jarvis. Do keep an eye on him."

"Of course."

"It's going to work," Tony assured.

"Of course, darling. Your little science experiment is going to impress all the judges at the science fair."

"As if I wasn't kicking ass at those since the age of 3. Now come on~ You know what I want."

Stephen's sigh was a thing of beauty. Oh, the glee was never-ending! "Your intelligence and ingenuity continue to leave me in awe. How can a human possess such genius and good looks in equal measure?"

"That's what I like to hear. I shouldn't be too much longer—hard part's over. After my shower comes the fun part. J, I'm going to need some stuff from Projects Pegasus, Exodus, and Goliath. Get ready for a major remodel because we are going back in hardware mode."

"What remodel? Tony, you can't just build dangerous, experimental lab equipment in the house-"

"Totally building it."

"Is there a particular reason why this can't be done at the approved and safety rated facilities at the Aviation Division?"

Tony opened his mouth to speak. Froze, Coughed. Scratched his head. "Uh."

"I. Thought. So."

"Just for that? I'm doing it."

"If you end up collapsing space-time and forming a black hole I won't save you."

"Babe, the only hole I'm interested in—he hung up on me."

"Indeed, Sir." Came the prompt response.

"We can pick that thought up later. Break's over—got a feeling this'll come in handy soon."

Chapter Text

"Sir? Director Fury is on the line. How should I proceed?" Jarvis' voice broke through Tony's development haze. Tony blinked owlishly behind the clunky, tinted goggles and straightened his back. He idly tossed the massive wrench he had been using onto a workshop table. Building a particle accelerator was turning out to be fun as hell—he really should get away from the screens and holograms more often.

Hopefully Stephen wouldn't mind the gigantic crack that ran up to the upper floor. Totally fixable.

"Put him on. If he's calling then it must be something juicy."

"Patching him through, sir."

Tony waited until Fury's voice filled the lab, all no-nonsense as usual. "Stark."

"If it isn't my third favorite S.H.I.E.L.D operative. You'd be second, but Phil just edges out."

"Third? And who took first place?"

"You know I can't tell you that—I'm so bashful. Now what's up? I'm a little busy developing a new branch of science and I want to be done in time to call the wifey."

"So you don't know. I thought you'd have your fingers in this pie—considering it's right up your alley."

"Director, is that an accusation I hear? And I could make a joke about my fingers being in certain objects but I'm trying to be more professional."

Fury scoffed, "You're failing."

"Damn. And here I was giving this whole law-abiding citizen thing a try." Tony spun in his chair, then made a face when DUM-E brought over his daily green smoothie. What was the point of having robot minions if they just ignored you in favor of your husband? Well, not that he could throw stones from his own glass house. The lot of them were pathetic. Tony rolled his eyes and took a big gulp of the concoction when it was clear the robot was going to hover over him until he finished.

"With a mechanized suit of armor," Nick said.

Tony gasped. "More accusations! I hope you have proof of that. But for argument's sake is this not the Land of the Free?"

"Of course it is."

"Besides, even I can't be everywhere—well, theoretically it would pretty easy. I came up with a few plans back in my teens-"

"Keep your nose clean, Stark. But before you decide to go Big Brother on the world-"

"I am awed by your hypocrisy-" 

"You might want to consider turning on the news once in a while."

Tony tapped his fingers along the arm of his chair. "You heard the man, Jarvis. Let's try CNN. FOX gets my blood pressure up."

Tony may be up to his eyeballs in weird but somehow he still managed to be surprised by shaky cell phone footage of a gigantic green monster tearing across the once picturesque commons of a Virginia college. He whistled as he watched it take bullets like they were annoying mosquitoes and rip into the metal of a fucking tank. Making a note to develop something to withstand that sort of power in future suit models, increased structural integrity at the minimum, Tony addressed the S.H.I.E.L.D Director.

"I have nothing to do with that. But let me guess, you want my assistance."

"That was three days ago. Who knows when and where there will be another incident—and next time it may not only be military casualties we are looking at. You probably got the files already from your little mining operation—"

"Are you still mad about that? That's how I show my affection. I would have pulled one of your pigtails, but…you know." Tony reveled in the thorny silence. Who knew he had this sadistic streak in him? He half hoped Stephen would get feisty when he called tonight-

"…It was filed under The Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project, organized by the United States Armed Forces in conjunction with the Office of the President."

"I thought they canned that."

"They did. Only it got a fresh coat of paint a few years back. Three guesses who was in charge."

"Oh, that has the fingerprints of General Ross all over it." Tony pulled up said files on his tablet. As he sped read through the report he grimaced at the clinical word choice. It was the equivalent of mass destruction and gruesome death in Science Speak. "They tried to recreate Project Rebirth. Only Dr. Banner substituted gamma radiation rather than use Howard's vita radiation. And put himself in the hot seat with the help of…ooh, Dr. Ross. These are her formulations here—ingenious. But getting back on track, I…would not have done that. That's too ballsy even for me."

"What you got for me, Stark?"

"I mean, I have read Dr. Banner's work and his expertise in gamma radiation is second to none. Full respect. But Howard chose what he did for a reason. The serum is hard enough to stabilize and not kill the subject outright. Adding in gamma radiation on top? I love mad science as a rule but you still need to keep a tight control on the factors you have power over.  The potential of gamma can't be denied. However-"

"High risk, high reward. I see."

"Pretty much. If I wanted to go Howard's route, and it was the most stable from what I can tell, I wouldn't have messed with the……Wait. Ahhh. Ah, I get it. I'm guessing Drs. Banner and Ross  didn't have all the info, did they? General Ross would have obfuscated the true intentions of what he wanted given the clearance level. Because even I don't have this clearance level and I designed most of the Army's current weapons."

"I figured the same. Combined with Dr. Banner's reputation as a staunch pacifist, I believe the General wasn't very forthcoming with the scope nor intentions behind the Project," Nick finished.

"And that resulted in a gigantic rage monster capable of throwing tanks like frisbees. So, why did you really call me? I love flirting as much as the next man but I'm spoken for."

"Admirable. But last I checked you liked them younger."

"Touché, Director. In my defense he does yoga. So?"

"The General put together a task force to deal with the…problem. Current satellite imagery had Banner heading north before we lost him due to a massive storm front—with, I should add, the General's daughter in tow. She was caught up in the mess."

"Ah, it's always a woman. You want my tech."

"Don't think we've forgotten about your network of satellites currently orbiting the Earth."

"Wow. Those old things? They're only to support our new line of consumer electronics, I assure you."

"Oh, oh I'm certain. But if you could dedicate a couple to…monitor the situation, it would be appreciated."

"You are desperate, are you?"

"You've only seen the damage the media was allowed to air. I can assure you it's much worse. Nothing stopped that thing. Not bullets, not high caliber munitions, not missiles, not a falling  helicopter to the face. And it waltzed through fire hot enough to melt metal. Nothing. And they were using your stuff to do it."

Tony's eyebrows lifted in surprise. When it came to hardware he never half-assed a thing—all of his weaponry packed a hefty punch.

How interesting.

"So I'm sure you understand just how tough that thing's skin is," Fury finished.

"You're good at what you do. I'm officially intrigued. But you'll have to do something for me in return. Not now. I want to let it marinate."

"I figured as much."

"Oh, before you go, how's our little side project going?"

"Very well. I found it to be illuminating. But it's good to do a deep clean once in a while—dust off the cobwebs."

"I thought you would. I'll keep in touch."

"And we'll do the same."

"Say hi to Phil for me!" Tony only got a click in response. "Why is everyone hanging up on me, lately? It's starting to hurt my feelings."

Tony drained the last of his smoothie with a grimace and snapped his fingers. "Get the good General on."

"Sir."

Tony stood and headed back to his tool bench. He hummed as he waited for the call to connect. Just about an hour's worth of work left, then it was play time.

"Ross," the General snapped. Tony didn't even need to see the news to hear the tension in his voice.

"General! It's been a while. This is Tony Stark."

"Stark?? How the hell did you get this number-!"

"It was totally legal, promise. More importantly, someone's been a little dishonest about top secret government projects."

"…I don't know what you're talking about."

"General, please. I'm looking at the news footage right as we speak. This wouldn't have anything to do with that radiation thing you came to me about a few years ago?" Tony was met with silence so he continued. "You know I thought that was weird—strangely altruistic of the United States Government. But you wanted something else, didn't you? You wanted to see if the son could take a stab at what his father accomplished."

"So you found out about Project Rebirth. Then you understand the importance of such an initiative."

"Messing with human biology is a risky thing, General. You think the stuff I build is intricate? The human machine is something altogether different, and messing around with something that has taken millennia to evolve isn't a smart thing to do. Of course, I'm guessing you know all too well at this point."

"Oh I'm well aware of what you are capable of, Stark. For instance, I have questions of my own about a certain suit-"

"No, General. Between the two of us right now it's not me who is looking at complete professional and social ruin."

The General growled, but didn't refute Tony's words. Instead, he bit out, "Calling to gloat? Is that it?"

"Nope. I'm calling to potentially save your ass. Send me everything you have, then and now. And I mean everything—every memo, every schematic, every data log. I want to know how Dr. Banner takes his coffee."

"Don't think I'm a fool, Stark. What do you want in return?"

"In return from saving the President and the Government from domestic and international embarrassment? Why would you ever think I would do something like that? I am a proud American."

"Stark-"

"I'll let you know soon enough. You owe me."

"God-fucking-" General Ross's ensuing curses impressed even Tony—and he we went to an all boys boarding school. "Fine! Fine. He was in contact with someone who goes by the moniker of 'Mr. Blue', but we haven't been able to crack the encoded messages."

"That sounds like a problem! I wonder if we know anyone who could possibly help with that."

"Enough, Stark; just do it."

"Sending you the address. Transfer the data over and I'll have the messages for you in…oh…" Tony checked the clock. "Eh, I'm a little busy so give me two minutes."

"Our experts have been working on those for days-"

"Well, damn. Give me two and a half minutes, then. Talk to you later—smooches!"

"Fuck off, Stark!" Dial tone. Tony pouted.

"Seriously? What is is about me that causes that reaction? And I'm the one doing him a favor!"

"Shall I call you on your mobile, Sir, and let you hang up on me?" Jarvis inquired.

Tony sighed. "You treat your old man so well. But, no…it's not the same."

"There, there, Sir."

The outer shell and internals for Mark VI were nearing completion. Project Goliath had proven to be very useful. The rest all came down to the element. Integration would be a breeze after that. By the time Ross sent over the necessary data Tony was nearly done and ready to make history. And hopefully not blow out the power within a twenty mile radius. Still, if this was the speed the government operated on no wonder they were in trouble. Tony sat at his computer to take care of the decryption himself. It's been a while.

"Gimme some music to work with, J. What has Steph been listening to recently?"

"'Everybody (Backstreet's Back)' from their second studio album on repeat, Sir."

"I am going to tease the shit out of him. Now, time me." The encryption had a certain sophistication to it that Tony could appreciate. And minimalist—a man after his own heart if his heart was still his to give! Ooh, he should buy Stephen something, come to think—it's been a good month and that was just unacceptable.

"Done," Tony said.

"Two minutes, three seconds."

"Yeah…I'm a little rusty—and I don't like that at all. Something tells me I'm gonna have to be at the top of my game. Now. Dr. Samuel Sterns—oh, I know him. He hasn't done anything interesting lately, though-" Tony stopped. Shit.

"Jarvis, what's Stephen's schedule looking like?"

"He's in surgery until the evening in Eastern Standard Time, Sir."

"Fuck. Okay. I'm making some last minute adjustments. We gotta double time this shit, and I mean it."

At first glance, Mr. Blue, Samuel Sterns, looked unassuming enough with his slight build and mousy brown hair. His skin had taken on a pallor of someone who rarely saw sunlight. Bruce was vaguely familiar with his work—in any other circumstance he would have loved to pick the man's brains over something other than his green problem. But Bruce ought to have known. When it came to scientists, a lot of them were inclined to pick and prod at things they weren't supposed to. The best scientists were the ones who took those risks. Yet, a lot of times the lines became blurred. History was filled with those disguising their worst impulses behind the name of innovation.

The sight of dissected dog corpses made him ill.

And Dr. Sterns was rambling on, eyes now bright with a fervor Bruce recognized well. He had thought the same. He, too, had been sure they were on the cusp of solving every human problem imaginable. The excitement had made him careless—his arrogance had made him prideful. Gamma radiation was supposed to be the key to their panacea. All he had done, however, was recreate Pandora.

Betty's eyes met his and he knew the same thoughts were running through her head. They would have to, somehow, stop this man. But how to even do it? How to do it without alerting the authorities or harm Sterns even though he was misguided? He wasn't a bad man by any stretch of the word. Bruce had seen his share of those since he was young—had come from one.

Bruce flexed his hands in an attempt to relieve the ache. Every transformation hurt. His bones would snap and his organs would shift and his gums would bleed from his enlarged teeth and as he grew his skin would stretch to the point of tearing. He could almost believe the cure worked and it was all over. General Ross, at least, would never get what he wanted.

But they had to stop Sterns.

"…can't believe that never occurred to me. Dr. Ross’ ‘primer’ was what I was missing. It lets the cells absorb the energy temporarily and then it abates. That’s why you didn’t die of
radiation sickness years ago—ugh, hindsight, am I right?" Sterns continued to ramble with a bright grin. He beamed with triumph as the fluorescent lights highlighted the misshapen forms of monkeys and rats.

"You have got to destroy it. All of it," Bruce said, cutting the man off. Sterns actually looked surprised.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Right now. Show me your supply. We've got to burn it all."

Sterns laughed nervously. "This is a joke. The three of us are guaranteed a Nobel Prize—think of the revolutionary-"

"Do you honestly think I haven't?? But this is cannot be controlled!"

"Whoa, hold on, okay," Sterns said. He held up his hands. "We have an antidote! We'll be working in incremental stages over years of testing! It doesn't have to be-"

"They don’t want the antidote! They want a weapon. They want it to fight for them and if they get it then we lose control of it!"

"So...I hate the government as much as the next anarchist—remind me to give you a pamphlet for our next get together, we have s'mores—but you're being a little paranoid."

Bruce heard the sound of glass breaking and something pierce the back of his neck. His vision swam and he fell onto his knees.

"Bruce! Bruce!" Then Betty screamed, but it was like hearing her from under water. Someone grabbed his face. They were shouting but-

Pain exploded from his temple as something heavy struck him down. His eyes closed.

Ross didn't know what to think. These last few days have turned everything he thought he had known on its head. When that…thing came out the first time, he had thought he'd had its measure. The lives lost, the destruction it left in his wake. Betty had been knocked out cold but Ross got a good look before it all but wrenched his arm from his body. His shoulder ached even now—one more ache after decades of being shot, burned, thrown, and crushed in the service of the country. If Betty could finally see why he had done what he did, then, maybe…maybe she would call him again. But then at Culver…it was smart. Far smarter than he gave it credit for. It could plan. It could use tools.

It saved his daughter.

Ross had thought he'd lost everything. He still broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of Betty going up in flames. He nearly lost her in his zeal to get Banner. It was just as well his wife had passed—he wouldn't have been able to look her in the eyes from the shame.

That was when the doubt had begun to creep in. Blonsky's not quite right grin and the way he admired his increasingly muscular form. Betty limp and lifeless from his own actions, not the beast's. Ross had learned long ago that doubt could get you or your men killed—hesitation cost seconds and lives. But he couldn't stop it from creeping into his heart.

Stark had come through—given them the info not even three minutes after the last of the data uploaded. But the man had also given him another warning.

Don't go to New York City.

Ross nearly listened, then. The population density alone would make a similar event a nightmare. It would be easier to keep back and track Banner until he got somewhere where there weren't millions of people practically stacked on top of each other. But Banner could not fall into the hands of their enemies. His blood could do serious damage. The longer they waited the greater the risk. Ross had to get results—he had to get to Betty. And Banner was too good at slipping through the cracks. If they were a hair too slow that could be it. He may be General but he had his objective. They were on their way. Blonsky looked thrilled.

Ross…doubted. Stark—the husband, the smarmy one—had been right. That kidnapping should have never happened. Those soldiers should have never been sent home in caskets. The human element had to tweaked; no amount of tech could do it. The limits of man would always be the thing holding them back. If those soldiers had just a little bit of enhancement they wouldn't have died. He was trying to make things safer. Recruitment was down and while having tech was good, it was the men and women who had to be better. Why was that so hard to understand? Captain America had shown that. True patriotism—becoming more than human to fight evil abroad. After 'Nam Ross had aged decades in the space of years. If their men could have been faster, stronger, able to heal better? He wouldn't have had to see his good friends hack up their lungs, lose limbs in explosions of gore, nor watch their lifeless bodies be left out for the crows to pick their corpses. Ross still remembered one plucking at the meat of his friend's still open eyeballs; his brother in everything but blood rotting in the sun because it was too dangerous to get him. Elias. Betty got his name from him. If only-

"Sir, Blonsky is moving," reported a corporal from his station. Ross straightened in alarm.

"What—why is he-??" Doubt. Ross grabbed the radio. "Blonsky stand down, my daughter is in there! That is a direct order!"

No answer.

"Sir, he's left his team in the dust—blocked off the corridor."

"Get me eyes in there, what's happening?" Ross turned to the thermal imaging.

"I…he's engaging. I-I think he injured Dr. Ross-"

The General hesitated. He opened his mouth to order the team to double time it to Blonsky's location. Doubt.

No; this was his mess to sort out.

"Tell the men to pull back, I'm going in." General Ross ripped off his headphones to grab a holster hanging amongst the extra equipment.

"Sir, with all due respect I must advise-" Major Starr began.

"I won't have any more young men and women maimed and killed on my watch! Gun!"

Starr nodded and gave him her handgun. "Sir!"

He had told Blonsky that it takes a toll. And it truly does. Repelling down the zip line was like riding a bicycle—his aging knees didn't appreciate the landing. Never quite got back in fighting shape after Operation Desert Storm. But old habits did die hard—he exercised when he could; lifted heavy and made sure to keep the cardio up. He was glad he did as he made his way down the stairwell. It meant he could keep his core tight and hold his position when necessary. Ross knew he wouldn't win in direct engagement. Too old; too out practice. Not enhanced. Fuck, he had thought Blonsky had understood. Ross saw a bit of himself in the man—staying in the trenches as long as possible, never striving for less than perfection. Ross had memorized the building plan and knew there was another way to Stern's labs. Longer, convoluted, but possible.

The empty halls meant sound carried—he heard the whirring of machines. Dread.

"Hang on, Betty. I'm almost there, sweetheart," he breathed. He'd get to his baby girl or die trying.

Ross burst through the side door to see Sterns staring at Blonsky strapped to the table. And Blonsky was growing. Horrified, Ross sprinted to the fool and shook his shoulder.

"What did you do??" Ross roared.

"He-He had a gun to my face-!" The doctor began. Ross cursed then saw Betty trying to rouse Banner. The tranq had hit true but the man was already coming around. Figures. Ross ran over to them.

"Betty? Oh thank God, Betty! Get him and get out!" Ross gripped her elbow to pull her to her feet. She was favoring her wrist—Blonsky would pay for that.

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Wha-"

"Get him out!"

Betty's mouth worked, unsure of what to say. Blonsky's growing form made her move. "What are you going to do?"

"What I should have done a long time ago. Now, get!"

Banner was somewhat able to get to his feet; fortunately, he was out of it enough to allow himself to be moved without question. He followed Betty like a lost puppy as always.

Ross ran back to Stern's side and watched the growing…abomination…shift before his eyes. "What the hell did you do?? He was already juiced to the gills!"

"He gave informed consent!"

"Informed consent—well I'm informing you that if you don't undo this shit you're consenting to be shot!"

"Ahhh…um…yeah, you're kinda asking for a lot! What happened to Banner was a freak accident. I didn't think I could put together the same Humpty Dumpty and as you can see-"

Ross dropped the idiot and cocked his gun. "Blonsky. This is your commanding officer I am ordering you to stand down!"

"I'm not sure he can understand you, but let's assume he can," Sterns babbled. Spines grew from gray-green skin and Blonsky's pants tore clean off his legs. He towered over them. 10 feet. 12. 14. "U-Um, soldier? Soldier? If you'll j-just get back on the table I can fix this-"

"Blonsky! This is General Ross you are to stand down and turn yourself in peacefully-!" Whatever humanity was left in the thing smirked and laughed at him. Well, fuck that, then. Ross opened fire.

Ross groaned in pain, blinking rapidly as he sat up painfully. He hissed at the sensation of cut glass digging into his palm. The abomination was gone—a hole and explosions coming from the street below left in his wake. High pitched giggling from his left made Ross turn.

Sterns was staring up at the ceiling. His head had grown and bulged—massive and grotesque.

"Hee hee hee…" Sterns stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, forehead throbbing like a heartbeat. Ross choked and scrambled back—the eye-watering pain in his palm made him look down. His hand was covered with broken shards. Blood smeared along his palm and forearm. The remains of a label lied next to Sterns.
No.

He stumbled to a nearby hazard sink and shoved his hand under. It was okay, it was probably nothing. The Ross luck that had gotten him through so many fucking battles still held. He hadn't transformed; he didn't even feel different. He was fine—not like Banner, or Blonsky, or-

"Ahhh…" Sterns sigh haunted him more than the screams of the dying wafting up from the street.

Stephen sighed as he sank into an open chair in the cafeteria. His feet throbbed—he had not missed this part of the job. But that was his last patient. The family was already with him, teary-eyed and thankful, so all he need do is change and head to the meeting spot to see if Nic would appear. He may or may not. The man had avoided him the entire time. Not that that was a difficult thing to do—working as surgeons all sorts of calamity can occur and what should have been a 12 hour day becomes a 18 hour one in a matter of moments. He had nowhere pressing to be so he took the moment to allow himself to unwind. It had been a harrowing week of accidents and consultations and looking out for whoever was trying to catch his attention. Stephen had come up with nothing so far. Drumm had been notified, along with The Ancient One (Stephen called her Sinead in his head because once Tony started he couldn't not see it, damn the man). In regards to his husband, he fallen back down the rabbit hole of engineering genius so JARVIS had taken to sending hourly updates to ensure that Tony didn't blow himself up. While the heartbeats-per-minute were overkill, there was something soothing to seeing it.

The other thing that bothered him, however, was the appearance of the Hulk in Virginia a good year early.

The universe operated on a series of actions and reactions, stemming as far back as its creation. The scale of such operations went far beyond human ken—even that of the gods to a lesser extent. It was the nature of causality—of time. But Stephen had very little idea how his presence could have resulted in such a major alteration. It was, perhaps, an exercise in futility to ruminate over the matter, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering. And for that matter, as far as he knew, there was no guarantee Dr. Banner would reappear in New York—not that Stephen could do anything about that. The National Guard had been put on high alert but other than that it was all up in the air. Stephen hadn't known the particulars.

He loathed being in ignorance. Perhaps it was now time to retrieve his relics. Stephen powered on his phone and moments later it came to life. Glorious. Stark Tech had been selling like hotcakes and they had yet to be truly innovative—most of it went to quality of life improvements. Stephen's eyes bulged at the stupidly long number texts Tony had sent. That was rare. Tony never texted when he was developing and he certainly didn't when he knew Stephen was going to be busy himself.

The first set made Stephen's eye twitch as it was in response to Tony's heart flatlining for several seconds.

> Ttly fine, babe!
> Rly
> honest
> got a little excited w/ power output hey did you know the left ventricle is like vry impt?
> I ddnt
> now I do
> so like im seeing sounds again
> I shld record this

Stephen sipped his tea. "I'll fucking murder him," he whispered.

"Strange!" Stephen looked up to see Nic approaching, hair askew.

"We're not supposed to meet until later. You know how I am about punctuality," Stephen said as he swiped to delete a bevy of messages. The next set were promises to buy several expensive gifts—which was, frankly, the bare minimum of what Tony should have done. Honestly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got an emergency coming in in the next hour so we'll have to do it now." Nic plopped down across from him.

"Very well. What do you want to know, exactly?" More messages confirming Stephen's waist size. He rolled his eyes and muttered. "As if that changed. The man has a fetish."

"What?" Asked Nic.

"Nothing. So, ask away. You're the one with little time. You should try being more efficient."

"Bite me."

"Married. Well, ask away."

"So like, those weird things you did with your hands-"

Stephen hummed at the appropriate intervals. Only for his alarm to grow at Tony's final messages.

> I was asked to locate Dr. Bruce Banner after the incident at Culver University
> He's in New York.
> Call me when you get this. And be ready.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" The various doctors and nurses and orderlies began to gather around the televisions hanging around the cafeteria. Scenes of flames and people running for their lives filled the television as the military fired in futility at Abomination. Stephen didn't even need to check the date. Wrong day; wrong hour. But there he was.

"You really want to know what you're about to get into?" Stephen asked Nic as he jumped to his feet. Nic had paled and his eyes were wide. "Watch the show and find out." Stephen fought against the tide of workers moving to watch the disaster. It would be all hands on deck soon enough. Stephen hit the call button and held the phone to his ear as the other dug into his pocket for his sling ring.

"Hey sexy, you seein' this?" Tony greeted in the next moment.

"I'm on my way." Stephen ducked into an empty room and summoned a portal to Broadway, a hundred meters ahead of Abomination's destruction. As he stepped through his scrubs shifted to black and white and Cloak twirled itself on his shoulders. A golden mask settled on his face as his hair turned completely white.

"Suiting up now, open up a portal for me."

"You got it working?" Stephen turned his gaze skyward and with a circular motion a golden gateway cut through the late afternoon sky.

"Was there any doubt? And I'm feeling way more frisky—energy output is steadier and far superior to the Palladium source." 

"Excellent. Once we're done here we can perform an analysis and ensure there is no lasting damage."

"I was hoping for sex, personally." Tony flew through the gateway and paused midair. Despite the terror some fleeing civilians pointed in the air in shock. "And holy shit that is not the thing that went wild down South."

"No, our friend is green. With hair."

"I'd ask how you know that but we have a more serious problem."

"I should think so." Stephen cut the call and dropped his phone through another portal onto their bed. He then settled an earpiece into his ear. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear. Your voice is as soothing as ever. Are we positive on the sex thing?"

"You'll get it when I'm good and ready to put out." Stephen floated up to meet him.

"You realize that excites me more."

"Guess you'll have to settle for fighting for your life in the next thirty seconds." Abomination was chasing after a military humvee desperately trying to escape. It flung cars with the same ease a regular human would lob a crumpled piece of paper. With the distance closing it wasn't looking good. Stephen curled his fingers in preparation. "Let me guess, we're surrounded by people."

"Thermals are picking up heat signatures in every building and scores along the street. If that thing doesn't kill them outright it'll cause so much collateral damage the collapsing buildings will do it. We need to get him out of the city."

"Agreed." The gateway opened up just before the careening humvee crashed into the row of stopped cars behind it. The soldiers would have found themselves in the middle of nowhere Nebraska but at least they'd be alive. To their surprise Abomination skid to a stop. It examined the gateway and paced before it, but stayed back several car lengths despite the temptation of his prey lying just beyond.

"What kind of technology is this?" The massive jaw and fangs struggled to form speech, but form it Abomination did. Stephen and Tony froze.

"Well, shit. It speaks."

"And it's smart."

They turned their heads at the sound of an approaching gunship. The open hatch revealed General Ross and sitting at a machine gun. Stephen recognized Dr. Banner, and to his surprise, Dr. Elizabeth Ross as well.

"Stark!" The General shouted, barely heard over the whipping helicopter blades. Tony opened his face plate and gave a sloppy, two-fingered salute.

"Hacking into their comms or this is going to kill our vocal chords," Tony said. A second later he greeted, "General! I thought I told you to stay out of New York."

"How did you get on this frequen—fuck it, it doesn't matter. You've got no authority to dictate where I can and cannot go, Stark!"

"Yeah, that's a problem I'll be fixing soon enough."

"Excuse-"

"Give me an update, General. Who are we looking at?"

"Captain Emil Blonsky from the Royal Marines. I approved that he be injected by a diluted serum to aid in the capture of Banner, but he decided that wasn't good enough."

"That seems smart."

"Can it. You're not going to say anything I haven't thought about already. Now get out of the way before you're hit by not-so-friendly fire!"

"Come on!" Abomination roared and flung the hood of a car like a frisbee. Stephen clicked his tongue and a giant Shield of Seraphim formed just before it connected. His elbows buckled from the sheer force but his magic was stronger. The sound of screeching and crunching metal rang in his ears. Stephen's arms trembled as he wiped away a trail of blood that had run from his nose down his neck.

Tony floated closer, face twisted in concern. "Whoa, whoa, Steph! You okay?"

"That sort of power…I won't be able to block many more direct hits." He had to curl his hands into fists to get some feeling back into them.

"How many do you think you have?" Asked Tony.

Stephen shook his head. "If you want more than three I'd need some divine assistance."

"Pass on that. And he's not going to helpfully leap into a gateway. It takes you approximately two and a half seconds to form one but his reflexes are faster. He'll be looking out for it on top of that. And there are thousands of people present, General, so I'm gonna need something better!"

Dr. Banner moved closer and pulled on an extra headset. "Dr. Stark, am I right?"

"Dr. Banner. I've read your work. Nice. Shame about the whole gigantic rage monster."

"He wants me. Let me fight him."

"No, no, wait! Bruce, it may not work. We treated you. What about those sound cannons? They stopped you before-" Dr. Ross started.

"Same problem. Too many obstacles nearby—they work best on an open field. All Blonsky would have to do is duck behind a building and it'll just deafen or kill the people inside." Tony grimaced. "Holy shit what was I thinking making that…?"

"Castigate yourself later, Dr. Stark. It's me. He wants a fight and he won't stop until he's dead," Banner turned to the Rosses. "We made this mess. All three of us. We can give all the excuses in the world but that doesn't change the fact we created the…Hulk. And that lead to this."

"Will that Hulk of yours even fight? What if it decides to join in or run?" General Ross snapped.

"Well we've got to do something before more people die! It's…it's still me. You were right, Betty. I kept trying to pretend it was some separate thing but he's not."

Betty Ross blinked. "You can control it?"

"More like…aim it."

"You won't come down? I'll come to you—Banner!" Abomination took two steps forward only for golden chains to erupt from the ground and wrap around his legs. He roared and struggled to lift his feet. Stephen struggled to keep his palms together.

"This is all very touching but we are out of time," Stephen gritted out.

"Okay, fuck it. Banner, do what you need to do. I'm not letting my husband give himself an aneurysm over you people's bullshit! We'll provide support and assist in evacuations. That includes you, General. Put your troops to good use." Tony's helmet slid closed, ending the conversation.

"…Shit. Get the cuffs off him," Ross ordered.

Banner shook his head. "Don't bother, just take us higher."

"Bruce, what are you doing?" Betty said in alarm.

"Uh…I know I gave him the go ahead but should we stop him?" Tony asked as the helicopter climbed up higher…and higher.

"I tried to do this before, when I thought I'd killed you. But it wouldn't let me. Nothing stuck." Bruce's voice cracked towards the end.

"What if you don't turn??" Exclaimed Betty, but it was too late. Bruce's body fell out of the plane.

"I don't care…what you…do. Just do…something." Stephen's temples began to throb.

"On it." Tony raised an arm and fired several compact missiles. They hit home, causing Abomination to stagger. But that was all they did. "Goddamn, Fury wasn't joking."

"Pest. Give me a real fight!" Abomination laughed, clapping his massive chest in mockery.

The sound of something massive crashing into the ground caused everything and everyone to freeze. Even Abomination. They watched a massive hand and arm rise up from the crater, followed by an equally massive body. All traces of Banner seemed to have vanished. The Hulk cracked his neck and sneered with bared teeth.

Then he roared.

Chapter Text

"You, you, you! Sweep that building for any stragglers. We have two more apartments and a restaurant on the west side to go through and I had better not hear a goddamn thing about any casualties in your sector!" Despite Ross's reddening face his commands were concise and his appearance as calm as could be in dire circumstances. "Any civilians who cannot move under their own power you bend your back and assist them through the designated—what the hell do you call those things again?"

"The technical term is-" Stephen began.

"Whatever, Stargate, can you make more?"

"Do you want me file your taxes while I'm at it?"

"Good luck with that, Strange Stark—I itemize."

"Sir! I have Mayor Hooks on line 2, the Governor on line 4, and the President wants to speak with you yesterday!" One of officers called from the makeshift tent. Ross let out a spew of curses that impressed even him—and he grew up on a farm.

Still, Ross had a point.

"Call Wong," Stephen muttered and the earpiece duly clicked to connect. Drumm would be responsible for protecting the Sanctum, but not even Stephen could make gateways large enough and keep them going long enough to evacuate thousands. That didn't even include ensuring Tony didn't get peeled open like a can of sardines.

"Stephen, you're on international news. Congratulations are in order," Wong said in greeting.

"How do I look? Are they getting my good side?"

"You have no good sides."

"I need your help, it's bad down here."

Wong sighed. "Stephen, you are a special case, but you know our rules-"

"This may surprise you but I could give less of a shit about  the rules right now! But I suppose I could just let these innocent people die gruesome deaths since this isn't a mystical problem."

Wong's next sigh was long and resigned, but Stephen smiled at the sight of a ring of gold appearing at his side. Wong stepped through and tossed his Starkphone back through the portal before it closed. "You must be the most annoying person I know. And I've met your husband."

"Now look who's on international news."

"Fortunately, I have nothing but good sides. And a spell to hide my features." Wong turned a critical eye towards the gateways. "Not bad, but you've effectively created a bottleneck. You have to thread the energies." Wong's movements were graceful as he wound his power around Stephen's to bound the gateways together to form a much larger passage from the existing three. People immediately surged through the extra space. Stephen had opened it up to an open area in Upstate; they were met by emergency personnel and volunteers.

"…No one likes a show off." Stephen said but clapped Wong's back.

"Raw power isn't everything, Stephen. After this we're putting you through more remedial courses. The basics are what they are for a reason-"

"Tuning you out, now." Screams and the sounds of crunching metal and concrete to his right drew his attention. One of the buildings Blonsky had collided with earlier had finally succumbed to the damage. The rusting fire escape had held it upright, somewhat, but it was folding from the excess weight.

"Move, move!" Ordered Ross as his soldiers scrambled to bustle the civilians in quick time. They'd never make it.

This, though? He could do. A web of golden energy caught the crumbling concrete, and a gentle wave of his arm transformed the material into a mass of butterflies.

"Ohhh," the bystanders gasped. One took a picture.

"Now who's showing off?" Asked Wong.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stephen winked at the man even though it went unseen. Now concerned about the other buildings, they both worked to tie their energies together to form a protective dome around the area. Stephen had to follow Wong's lead on that—he still found it hard to play well with others. It wouldn't withstand a direct assault from Blonsky or the Hulk for long, however.

"And what's Stark doing?" Wong asked.

"He has the fun job." Stephen double tapped the earpiece. "Tony, are you still alive?"

"Somehow this is much worse than the primordial, eldritch horror!" Tony shouted. Stephen winced at the accompanying roar in his ear.

"…I'm sure you're doing great, honey."

"When I swore that I would move mountains for you I was being metaphorical—you realize that, right??" A crash. Screeching metal.

"Don't be silly, I would never ask you for something so impossible. Now keep herding the absurdly powerful personifications of rage away from here."

"I'm total a sucker. Also? Blonsky caught on and I'm starting to piss off our green friend trying to pin them in. I need more room!"

"Got it, let me confirm. Wong, come on." Stephen made his way to General Ross's position. He was holding a thick satellite phone to his ear. Judging from his expression the conversation wasn't going well.

"Sir, I… …I understand, Mr. President. No, I actually have no idea what that giant portal is nor where it came from but I've learned to stop asking questions."

"General Ross, are there any clear areas?" Stephen asked, not caring who he was talking to. Ross made a face but he pressed a hand to the mouthpiece.

"Those whatever-you-callits of yours came in handy but that's still a shit-ton of people, Stargate. Major Starr, report! How are we looking?"

"We're struggling to keep track of numbers, sir! I believe we are mostly-" The Major called back. 

"I don't want to hear 'mostly', Major! I want specifics!"

"…The area encompassing West 125th, 135th, Manhattanville, Columbia Business School have been called. It's all we can do to prevent complete panic with our numbers!"

"Damn. Think." Stephen's mind raced. In the previous timeline they had gone wild up and down Morningside Heights, right by his own alma mater. Tony was doing his damnedest to keep them from taking their fight all over the neighborhood, but those areas were a small portion of Harlem, much less Manhattan. Wait, Columbia Business School? Then he asked, "What about the Parkway?"

"Henry Hudson Parkway has been blocked off and diverted!"

"And the State Park?" Stephen called.

"Clear!"

"Perfect. Tony, are you there? Drive them toward the Park by the Hudson."

"Oh, sure. I'll get right on that. Shit, I need to work on my cardio," Tony panted.

"If you manage to wrangle them to Riverside I'll give you all the cardio you could ever want."

"…And suddenly I have gotten my second wind. Over and out."

"Get me three Sonic Cannons down there as well to fence them off. Follow Stark's orders—if he tells you to hop into the Hudson you damn well do it! The last thing I want is to deal with New Jersey on top of this clusterfuck—no, Mr. President, I wasn't talking to you. We've got this under control." Ross said. He paused. "With all due respect we should keep the jets grounded for now. I think a missile would just piss the both of them off."

Stephen grasped Wong's arm. "Wong, I'm going to go help Tony. If he gets hurt I would never forgive him."

"…Yourself. You mean 'yourself,'" Wong said flatly.

"Eh. General, this is Wong. He'll assist you with the evacuations and protecting the area in my stead."

"Hold on Mr. President," Ross squinted at the both of them. "Sure, of course there are more of you. At this point I'd be fine with the goddamn Tooth Fairy."

"Well I got you someone a little bigger. He'll be more helpful than I am, here."

"Wong, was it? What, like Adele?"

"No, more of a Beyoncé. Thanks Wong, I mean it."

"Keeping you alive is part of my duties, apparently," the other man said, voice as dry as the Sahara.

"My Wong was a treasure, and you are, too." The ringing from his earpiece made him pause in surprise. It was also hooked up to his cell but who would be calling him now? Zoe and Jackie had already been contacted.

"This is Strange," Stephen said when it connected.

"You're telling me," Christine said.

"Palmer, I will absolutely fight you."

"Open a portal, Stephen. Secret's out—everyone knows."

Stephen sighed and squeezed his eyes shut because of course. "Let me guess. Nic."

"Mmhmm. He spilled the beans, but only because he wants to help. And some of the others had their own suspicions. Apparently Pamela's grandmother was two-headed?"

"A Two-headed doctor, from the conjure tradition in the African American community; but I'm not an expert on that for obvious reasons," Stephen answered. "Huh, who would have thought? But aren't you needed there?"

"Dr. Fuller got the coverage all figured out. Now open a portal—your office!"

"Yes, ma'am." Bewildered, but not one to disobey a direct order from Christine, Stephen opened a gateway to see a score of his colleagues waving cheerfully at him.

How the fuck had his life come to this?

Christine stepped through first. "Good job." She patted his cheek and made her way to the makeshift med tent. Dr. Ross greeted her from across a man who was holding his bleeding arm. Pamela blew him a kiss and patted an area that wasn't nearly as innocent as Christine's. Wasn't she married?? Stephen stared after them, then turned to Nic. It was gratifying to see him wince, but only just.

"You had. One. Job."

"You need more medics. We were watching—those jugheads were going to do more harm than good to the disabled and elderly. Not to mention and a lot of them need patching up," Nic explained.

"And what about your emergency surgery?" Stephen shouted after him.

"Considering Harlem's in Manhattan they decided they were better off on Staten. I can't blame them."

Stephen huffed but could only shake his head. He startled when the Medical Director himself stepped through. "Dr. Fuller?"

"Haven't done battlefield triage since 'Nam. Never thought I'd do it again but here we are. You go and kick ass, Strange, we've got this." Fuller loosened his tie. "Nice 'fit, by the way."

Tony had a new appreciation for the tenacity of gnats as he twisted and sped in and out of Blonsky's attack range. One solid hit and that would be a very messy way to go. Despite the height and sheer amount of weight being moved, Blonsky and the Hulk proved to be far more agile than Tony would have estimated. And their stamina. Jesus Christ. Actual fights—those outside of combat sports—barely lasted a minute if that. These fuckers were going on fifteen. JARVIS had already saved his ass twice—moving the suit clear of a surprise blow by Blonsky and a (probably) accidental one from Banner. Stephen would absolutely never find out about that.

"J, gimme an ETA on our field trip to Riverside," Tony muttered, shooting down a Honda Accord before it collided with his face (what was with Blonsky and throwing shit??).

"At the rate we're currently going, Sir, I'd give us a tentative five minutes."

"God that feels like forever." Tony clicked his tongue. "Okay, new plan-"

"Perhaps we should run it by the Doctor, first, Sir?"

"Whose side are you on? And his 'plans' have resulted in millions of property damage so far-"

"What was that?" Stephen asked. Damn, J must have opened the comms. Tony coughed.

"I was just explaining to Jarvis that your wisdom and foresight would be better served helping the fleeing and wounded."

"Hm."

"Love you so much you are the sweetest of sugar babies. Mwa kiss kiss." Tony muted the connection for a moment. "Hey, Hulkster! Follow me if you want a real battleground to go wild!" The Hulk sneered at him like he was something that had unfortunately gotten underfoot, but with a roar he made a massive leap in Tony's direction. Blonsky snarled in rage and followed suit.

"Yahtzee. I knew the big guy wasn't just muscle." Tony turned to shoot off towards the park along the Hudson. It was a massive area with amenities and big enough to hold a race track, pool and assorted buildings. That ought to be enough. He unmuted his comm. "So, babe, the park is a go. But neither one of them looks to be tiring any time soon!"

"No, we'll have to make sure Hulk can knock out Blonsky. I'll be there in a moment," Stephen said. Tony choked.

"What? The hell you're not!" Tony sighed when a familiar golden circle appeared in the sky over the park and Stephen floated through. Cloak had the audacity to wave at him.

"Too slow, honey."

"You are so grounded." 

"Kinky grounded?"

"Aw, you little minx. I can never stay upset with you." Tony slowed to a stop and turned just in time to see Blonsky tackle the Hulk across the greens. Hulk roared and retaliated with an elbow so fierce the sound of crunching bone echoed throughout the area. Blonsky only laughed, face twisted from the pulverized left cheek. He head-butted the Hulk in return. Before he could land another, he reared back just in time to avoid a savage bite that would have surely taken off skin and a layer of muscle. Hulk kicked him away—Blonsky's ribs caved in but were reshaping themselves soon after as the other titan righted himself. Their feet tore through the once landscaped grass.

The Hulk roared and slammed the ground in frustration. He snarled at Tony when the other landed behind him to his right.

"Tony-" Stephen began, heart contracting by how close he was. He had met Dr. Banner when the Hulk was unwilling to fight, but the difference between those two appeared to be night and day. Stephen had no inkling as to what happened to cause the change—and he never would, most likely. Hulk tensed and snorted at him, but he kept a gimlet eye on Blonsky, who was also taking the time to reevaluate. Too evenly matched; something would have to give. Blonsky was eyeing him and Stephen as well. It'd be easier if the guy was still hopped up on his own supply and underestimating them, but once Jarvis pulled his service records Tony understood just how dangerous this was. Unlike Banner, Blonsky was far more in control and had far more fighting experience out of all of them. Tony idly considered Agamotto but, no. That was their last resort.

"Don't worry, Jolly Green, that guy's all yours and no one is going to argue otherwise. But you want a little help?"

"You help? You puny," Hulk grunted.

"Rude."

"Hulk stronger than this thing." Hulk jerked his chin and flexed his arms. Not gonna lie, the circumference of those biceps were impressive.

"Ha, you think so? Then give me everything you've got!" Taunted Blonsky.

Hulk roared and then they were slamming together in a fury of bone and muscle and sinew. Neither had an ounce of fat to protect, nor hide, the damage being done to organ and cartilage alike. But they healed just as fast.

"We can't risk getting caught up in that," Tony began.

"You think so? And here I was itching to just get right in the middle—don't you say a fucking word."

Tony smirked beneath his helmet. "I don't know what you're talking about. But let's improve the odds for our guy. Do your best to trip up Blonsky—from afar. You keep your distance and I mean it."

"And what will you be doing?"

"What I've been doing—playing cowboy."

Stephen muttered, "You do enjoy your role play," as Tony flew over to the playground he spotted earlier. He landed with a thunk by monkey bars that have probably been around since the 80s. Which was good, as it was still made out of that solid, tooth-chipping metal today's kids were missing out on. The suit's hydraulics whirred to life as he yanked a bar out of concrete and pulled it free from the welding.

Stephen was keeping his distance as promised, using his magic to pin the Blonsky's limbs long enough for the Hulk to get a few good hits in. The tide was turning—slowly, but surely. Tony let out a sharp whistle.

"Hey! Got a present for ya!" Tony dropped the heavy bar and the Hulk caught it with a terrifying smile. The first swing caught Blonsky under the chin, sending him staggering.

"His backswing is way better than Dr. Fuller's," Stephen said.

"That's not that hard, considering it's garbage," Tony replied.

Blonsky tried to recover, only for a thick, golden-orange chain to wrap around his neck and yank him back. The Hulk pressed his advantage, going after the kneecaps with the ferocity of a Prohibition era mobster. Al Capone would have been proud.

"Enough of this tripe!" Blonsky rolled to avoid the next blow and threw sand into the Hulk's eyes. Stephen tried to catch him again but, somehow, his strength seemed to have increased. Stephen had to release the spell or be yanked forward for his trouble. Tony hoped that wasn't a thing. Blonsky shoulder checked the Hulk and used the momentum to send him flying at one of the Sonic Cannons.

Stephen cursed and clasped his hands together and moved them sharply to the right—the vehicle jerked at the same time to just miss being sent into the river with the Hulk.

"Don't just sit there, fire the Cannons!" Tony yelled into his comms. The soldiers rallied and obeyed. Blonsky roared as the sound waves slammed into him.

"That's not going to work."

"Nope, but it'll give me time to charge." The ARC reactor in his chest grew brighter and brighter.

"How many seconds?"

"Only ten…now we're at six, five, four-"

Blonsky roared and began digging into the ground by his feet. Tony cursed and fired, not wanting to delay. The beam would have gone right through Blonsky's heart had he stayed in position; instead, it grazed along his back and melted his spines. The next moment he was completely submerged. Silence reigned Tony, Stephen, and the soldiers all looked at each other.

"This is…holy-fucking-shit bad. We can't lose him. Jarvis, turn on thermal imaging." Tony growled when a news helicopter flew by overhead. "Those idiots are going to get killed."

"Get them out of here! I can't do my best spells with them in the way!" Stephen landed on the earth and placed his hands down into the churned up soil. Red energy tore through the ground like arcing lightning. Blonsky's muffled roar echoed throughout the area the next moment. "Found you. Let's try this again."

Tony flew up towards the helicopter, causing—was that Christine Everhart of all people??—and her pilot to jump. Tony pointed back towards Morningside. He blanched when Christine turned up her nose and continued reporting. The pilot only looked at him in commiseration-poor bastard. 

"That's just disrespectful," Tony muttered. Blonsky burst from the earth and charged toward Stephen like a rampaging bull. Stephen even had the red cape for the effect. "Steph, tell me you've got a plan!" Tony lifted his arms and shot another barrage of compact missiles. Blonsky shrieked and buckled when they hit. Smoke and debris filled the area. Tony turned on thermals and cursed. Still moving and now using the smoke as cover. That did more harm than good.

"Steph, he's coming at your right!"

"Don't worry." A moment later his husband's body was surrounded by high speed winds, clearing the smoke and preventing Blonsky from advancing further—for a moment. He got on all fours and continued his advance. Slowed, but not stopping. Nothing fucking stopped him! 

"Stephen you had better go airborne I swear to God-"

"Look for the Hulk! It's been too long!" Stephen retorted. He shoved out his arms and curled his fingers. Blocks of ice surrounded Blonsky and creeped up his body. Massive hands raised up and pounded the ground, sending Stephen off his feet. Blonsky easily broke through the ice and surged forward to press his advantage. Cloak, thank God, yanked Stephen back but Blonsky was gaining.

"Fuck this," Tony sped back down and braced himself. He upped his speed and slammed into Blonsky's side. It was like hitting a wall—only this wall was a murderous abomination against nature.

"Sir, you have received multiple compound fractures along your left clavicle and humerus," Jarvis reported.

"I noticed!!" Tony grit out and shot a repulser blast with his good arm. It hit home—Blonsky's nose and front teeth buckled. It would have taken the head off a normal human but he only looked (even more) pissed.

"Wütendes Heer." The sound of baying dogs filled the air before Blonsky was ripped off him and dragged back. Massive hunting dogs had taken each of Blonsky's legs and were dragging him backward while three more were ripping into him.

Stephen landed by his side, scythe across his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat. Between that and the mask and fur lining Cloak's lapels, he looked quite the sight. Still, Tony knew him well enough to know he was smirking. "That's a new one."

"I don't use it because it tends to be lethal. Besides. The only one allowed to bully my husband is me."

"Ooh Babe, I love it when you talk dirty."

One of the dogs yelped and vanished into a flurry of butterflies after a solid hit. "They won't hold him long and I'm running out of steam. Sound cannons?"

"Clearly don't work."

"…I'm opening the Mirror Dimension. He'll be off the streets at least and he won't be able to escape. Probably."

"Hold on, I thought that required you to be in there as well?"

"…Tony, nothing is stopping him. I can't keep this up forever and neither can you."

"Cool, cool. So what happens when you inevitably run out of energy while in said Mirror Dimension?"

"…Other than Agamotto-"

"Leave that asshole where he is. And like fuck are you martyring yourself over this fucker."

"We're running out of time-"

"Then take me with you."

"What?? No!"

"Until death do us part, babe. Either we both go or neither of us do." The final hound vanished with a howl. Blonsky rolled his shoulders with a sneering grin. Tony used the repulsor on his good hand to lift himself up onto his feet. Stephen braced himself as well. "Although, where's-"

"Hulk Smash!!" 

Tony had watched the unaltered footage from Culver, and the bits and pieces collected over the years of Banner's manhunt. He had noticed a pattern. The longer the Hulk was out, the smarter he became. His plans and escapes had increased in sophistication. But Tony had still underestimated him as he lacked access to Dr. Banner's brilliant mind. They had all made that mistake. Hulk landed on Blonsky with a sickening crack. His reinforced spine gave an audible snap and Blonsky screeched. His legs flopped. He'll heal, judging from the serum's capabilities, but it'd take a while. That gave the Hulk more than enough time to unravel the thick chains he carried around his shoulders. Heavy chains, no doubt taken from the docks. He wrapped them twice around Blonsky's neck and pulled. Blonsky choked and thrashed despite the paralysis in his lower body. His elbows collided with the Hulk's torso, breaking ribs, but the Hulk hung on—scenting blood in the water.

All they could do was watch as Blonsky's movements slowed—grew sluggish. Weakened. The searchlight of the helicopter showed the exact moment when he lost consciousness. Died? A quick check with the HUD revealed a still beating heart and operating lungs. The fact he survived the Hulk choking him out made Tony even more nervous. 

Hulk dropped the chain and lumbered off of Blonsky's prone body. He kicked it—no movement. Hulk bared his teeth and roared in victory. It made Tony's ears ring.

"Should we use the cannons, Sir?" A soldier piped up over their comms. Tony switched over to that channel.

"Uhhh, we're good. Stand down, Soldier." He switched off the soundproofing to his helmet so his voice could be heard. "Holy shit, great job, Green Bean." Hulk huffed and growled—still high from the adrenaline. "What took you so long, though?"

"Metal Man said help," Hulk grunted.

"…Wait. Are you telling me you used us as bait?"

The Hulk gave a rather terrifying smile.

"That's just disrespectful," Stephen said.

"I'll say. This was not how I imagined our first threesome."

Stephen slowly turned his head to stare at him.

"Betty…" The Hulk rumbled. Betty smiled brightly up at him and patted his hand. There wasn't an ounce of fear in her. Stephen had to admire it.

"Isn't that just sweet? God bless her." Tony turned to the General. They eyed each other before Ross sighed and shook his head.

"It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. I suppose I…"

"Yes? Come on, General, let it out. It's a safe space."

Ross grumbled something and shoved out his hand. Tony clasped it with care, as he was still fully armored, and they shook. "Couldn't have done it without you, Stark. Strange Stark."

"It fits him, doesn't it?"

Stephen rolled his eyes. "What happens next?"

"Until everyone and everything is accounted for and the damage assessed, there're a lot of people who will be displaced for the near future," Ross said, looking every one of his years. "The Governor's declared a State of Emergency and FEMA will handle it from here. My team's in charge of finding a way to contain…that." Ross nodded towards a cuffed and bound Blonsky. They had given him enough tranqs to take out a herd of rhinos and a few more doses for good measure.

"You'll need something high tech to keep that one under lock and key," said Tony.

"Indeed. The President himself wants to coordinate that with you. There are…special sites, but what we've got may not be good enough for the modern era."

"And it might be trampling over a few human rights violations, I'm guessing."

Ross's lips thinned and for a moment Stephen thought he would argue, only he sagged. "I thought…I don't fucking know anymore."

Stephen didn't have to see Tony's face to feel his surprise. Stubborn may as well have been Ross's nickname rather than Thunderbolt. Then again, this entire event would be more than enough to shake even hardened veterans.

"You okay there, General?" Tony asked.

"…Yes. Yes, of course. As I was saying the President will be contacting you personally. I suggest you keep your calendar open. As of right now your identities are considered highly classified. Try to keep it that way for the time being."

"Ooh, there's something to be said to have the President owing you a favor. We'll leave the cleanup to you, General. And The Hulk?"

General Ross turned back to Hulk and his daughter. Betty was tense while the Hulk looked ready to move her behind him. Ross watched them for a few moments, then said, "We have our hands full with Blonsky. If the Hulk took this opportunity to escape American soil, we would be unable to stop him. And we certainly wouldn't be able to contact other governments as that would be incredibly embarrassing. A real shame."

Betty's eyes widened in disbelief and she beamed up at the Hulk. "It's okay. We'll meet again when things calm down."

"We owe you, Big Man. I will personally see that she is taken care of—you've got my word on that," Tony said. Stephen nodded.

"Stark Industries could use a bright mind like hers if she doesn't mind living in New York City. It would be easy to hide in the crowds—theoretically," Stephen added.

Hulk eyed them, then turned his gaze towards Betty. "Betty be okay?

"Yes, I'll be alright." She leaned against him, hugging him tight.

"Steph, this is just too precious," Tony whispered. "I'm getting cavities—love it." Stephen only chuckled in response. 

The Hulk ran a gently finger across her hair and stepped back. "Hulk will be okay." With that, he crouched down and leaped up and over the buildings. Even at his size he disappeared quickly into the darkness. The lack of light proved eerie—New York City should never appear so dead, Stephen decided.

General Ross nodded and turned to his staring troops. "No one saw that."

"Saw what, Sir? We're just enjoying the scenery. New York City is beautiful at night." The Major smiled.

"Are you now?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" The nearby soldiers chanted obediently at parade rest. 

"Well! No doubt you also want to waltz down the streets and visit the boutiques on 5th Avenue. Not on my goddamn watch! Get your asses to your stations! Double time!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"I hand-picked you lot specifically because you are the best and the brightest the army has to offer—have I been mistaken??"

"No, sir!"

"Then I had better not hear a single complaint! Anyone who slacks off gets the honor of polishing my boots—and they're looking pretty scruffy!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Enjoy yourself, General. I certainly plan to within the next half hour," Tony commented. Stephen scoffed. "I'll see you in Washington. Oh, make sure you get that hand looked at."

"Hm? Oh, sure, sure. I've had much worse. Now get out of here before I change my mind and arrest the both of you. Interfering with government operations."

"He is so ungrateful. You good on your end?" Asked Tony as Stephen opened a gateway.

"We'll need to think of something in regards to my colleagues, but, yes."

"Don't worry, babe. Daddy's got a plan like always."

"For the last time—actually, you know what? Fuck it. The two of us nearly died. Let's get your arm set and I'll put you to sleep myself."

"Ooh, so blessed. It's good being me."

Obadiah rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to ward off an oncoming migraine.

"I don't understand what about this is so difficult. You have the ARC reactor blueprints—down to the last goddamn integer. What is your problem??" The scientists flinched at the raised voice, but no one offered him anything. It had been months and he still had nothing to show for it. Obadiah was all too well aware his continued existence hinged on Hydra's good graces and he did not want that compromised. He won't let it—not due to these idiots!

"Is something wrong?" Gideon waltzed in as if he owned the place—and he did, unfortunately. "You can't keep screaming at the staff, Obadiah. We pride ourselves on our high quality work environment."

"Shouldn't you be worried? Stark tore up your servers pretty good."

"I have told you before, Obadiah. At this point, SHIELD and HYDRA are one. They would never rout us all, and there are contingency plans in place for such an event. We've made it a point to keep the juicy activities on separate servers. You'll see soon enough. Undoubtedly we will lose many but as long as one remains-"

"Yeah, yeah, cut off one head, I've heard it before."

"No news on your little project?"

"No. Despite the fact I've all but put together the goddamn thing for them! Tony Stark was able to build a miniature reactor from a box of goddamn scraps!"

One of the braver scientists finally piped up. "With all due respect, we are not Tony Stark."

Obadiah sighed. And wasn't that the kicker? He was so close! That fucking doctor—he ruined everything! Without a Stark, Tony or Howard, how were they to—wait.

"You have an interesting look on your face. Care to share?" Gideon asked.

"Howard worked with another man on the first ARC reactor. Vanko.  He was a good friend of Howard's and a trusted confidante. I was worried that between the two of them Howard's attention would be pulled away from weapons development. So I planted a few seeds in Vanko's head. But the fool got too greedy and got caught trying to sell blueprints on the black market. Of course…why didn't I think of him before?"

"Vanko? Is he even alive?"

"Dunno. He got shipped off to Siberia. But he shouldn't be hard to find—Hydra is everywhere."

"Indeed. If he is still alive, we will find him. And for your sake there had better be some results."

"There will be—I know it."

The bar had a weathered look to it that all run-down bars did—right down to the jukebox that probably played only a quarter of the songs it used to. The bartender, an equally rugged guy moved to serve him but Tony held up a hand. Better to stay dry than wet his lips with temptation staring at him in the face. General Ross, however, had no such hangups. His head was leaning heavy on his uninjured hand—the other still wrapped in gauze.

"Reload," The General grunted and more brown liquid was poured into the shot glass. Tony drew closer and slid onto the stool beside him. He had to readjust the sling holding his collarbone and humerus together. Same arm he injured during his escape and it was not happy with him. The General didn't acknowledge him at first, preferring to toss back the shot with barely even a wince. A sigh. "This ain't doin' shit."

"Then that's when you really need to pull back. Speaking from experience. Leave the bottle, Jim, I got him. Tab's on me." Tony read over the label. Not exactly rotgut but the General probably wasn't in it for the taste.

"You satisfied, Stark? Project's a disaster. Banner's in the wind. And I still got some very uncomfortable questions to answer to the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"I did tell you not to go to New York." Tony obligingly filled up another shot. The General chose to nurse this one instead.

"…So you did, Stark. So you did."

"I'm more of a hardware sort of guy, you know…but. I'm not getting any younger and most days I ache all over. I can understand the temptation."

General Ross laughed—a raspy, weak thing and his hair seemed even grayer in the low light. "Decades, Stark. Decades in service. I believed in that shit. Had to." He looked down at his bandaged hand and downed the alcohol in a gulp. Tony's brow furrowed. He had known the General in a professional capacity for a long time. This was…different.

Tony poured him another shot; half, this time. "It's easy to get caught up in it. The movies, the video reels, the parades. The museums filled with history labeled as 'American Greatness.' The first successfully enhanced human on known record was a 6-foot-something, blonde haired and blue-eyed white man and all of it is the first thing you see when you wake up until you shut your eyes at night in a bedroom full of memorabilia. Pledging Allegiance to a flag before you're able to form abstract thoughts. It's all you know. And it's a damn good story—so good and pervasive you never even begin to think. Your family's been doing this for, what? How long?"

"One of the first colonists—served with Washington himself," came the mumbled reply.

"Mm. I get it. But then you grow—start looking outside the box. You begin to hear the rumors; you hear the disturbing, gut wrenching things done for country and corporate interests. You learn about the rape, the killings, the kidnappings, the human trafficking, the burnings, the genocide, the greed…the drive to consume everything—people, land, capital. And then you wonder about your place in furthering that destruction. All that effort and sweat…for what? I've read the classified reports, General; just as you have. And the two of us…well, we made our decisions in the name of Empire."

"Tch. You sound like my daughter."

"She's a very intelligent lady."

"That's all her mother. Smarter than my ass, at any rate. Refused to join JROTC and buried her head in biology books instead. The Old Man had his own ideas about women serving so he didn't get on her like he did me before he went six feet under at Arlington. I was sort of relieved to be honest—at least she wouldn't end up like…Elias."

Tony noted the name but knew better than to follow that thread. Instead, he said, "So you've had your doubts for a while."

"Naw… …well. …Perhaps. Perhaps. But what else could I do?"

"When you got a hard ass parent breathing ~legacy~ down your neck? It's difficult to do much else. You keep on because to do otherwise would be to admit your family shed blood and died for…that. You'd have to acknowledge that you're way more comfortable with atrocities than you'd care to admit. That your loved ones have died and you've wasted decades on…horror. That was how that line went, wasn't it? 'The horror—the horror.'"

"Hn. Hated that movie."

"I imagine it made you uncomfortable. I did prefer the book myself although both are phenomenal. On the other hand I am a sucker for Marlon Brando. Ooh, he was a fine specimen in his prime." Tony sighed and adjusted himself better on the aging barstool. "I'm not saying this to rub salt into wounds because I'm not any better. When I started making weapons I had no real idea about life or death. I was in grade school. But I was good at it, it made Howard happy, so I built away. 

Then when I was old enough to know better? I, too, kept on keeping on. And who knows how long I would have if I hadn't, finally, gotten a taste of my own medicine. Until I was the one being shot at—until I was the one with shrapnel tearing up my insides. Until I was being dumped head first into filthy water. I didn't pull any triggers, and, sure, if not me then someone else would have filled the void…but the thing is those hypotheticals don't change a goddamn thing. I can't put that shit on any one else. And now here I am sitting on the spoils of wars, with a daughter of my own and I think about all those other daughters who…well." Tony trailed off, eyes on the bottle in his hand. It would be easy to go right back into what he knew. Terrible for him and other people, but comfortable. Known. Every day was a struggle in breaking new ground and he wondered if there would be a time there wouldn't be.

"You think stepping out of the game will cleanse your soul?" Ross sounded curious, not sarcastic. Tony had an inkling he wasn't asking for Tony's sake.

"I wish I had a better answer than no. Decades of being the Merchant of Death doesn't get cleared away by a year of playing nice and giving away smartphones. That'll be a part of my identity until I die and long after—I've got to make peace with that."

"Then why bother? When you're in so deep-" The General cut himself off and his hand had closed into a fist. It shook from the force of his grip. Tony pulled his gaze away to rest on the worn grain of the wood beneath his fingertips.

"I believe…now, at least, that you do the right thing because it's the right thing. You grow, listen to others…fuck up, take your licks, learn. And at the end of it all you hopefully do better. My family plays a part—an important one. But I…I've got to put in the work. Me."

Ross sighed, long and heavy. "You know you don't have to, Stark. You're so loaded your grandchildren's grandchildren won't have to work a day in their lives. You could give that suit of yours to someone else and take a backseat. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes would be exceptional. Even I can't fault his record."

"Yeah…I'm wrestling with that, too. But it's not just me, General. You could retire tomorrow. And with your record you'll be buried in so much metal I could make another suit from it."

Ross snorted at that. He toyed with the shot glass before setting down and pushing it away. The old CRT hanging from the wall in the corner showed a replay of yesterday's baseball game. Howard used to promise to take him to one—never did. Something was always more important. "If you know about Project Rebirth then you know about…what else is out there, I'm guessing."

"I know we're not alone."

"I just wanted our kids to be safer, Stark. That's all—that's all. Then it all got twisted up and fucked." Ross paused. "I chose Blonsky because he was one of us—he understood the life. Highly decorated—well trained. He was on our side. But what came out of him was an abomination. It makes you think, Stark; makes you really think."

"Abomination. Fitting."

The silence between them stretched miles. The bartender was humming along with the juke—some old country thing where the singer probably lost his woman, house, farm, and dog and not even in that order. The General suddenly asked, "You a fan of Captain America?"

"Hated him. But those're my daddy issues talking."

"I used to look up to him. Old Man served in the Second World War and told me all about his exploits. I used to think, 'that's it.' That's proof that everything we stand for is right. And if we had more of him? It would be better for everyone. Conflicts would end so much quicker with less bloodshed. And if they were hurt they would be able to heal. No more corpses being left out to bake and swell in the sun."

"That would suck for the other guys, considering our track record with war crimes. But as long as America's dominance is assured, am I right?"

"You and I both know that war's inevitable, but if—no. No." Ross pressed his fingers against closed eyes. "That's that old fool in me flapping his gums. All I've done was cause…hurt."

"The road to Hell."

"Heh, indeed." Ross ran a hand over his mouth.

"I've seen some shit, Thunderbolt. It made me question what we're really doing on this dirt ball hurtling through space."

"What are we doing…hm," Ross murmured. "What am I doing? What if it's too late for me?"

"Figured you were the type to rest when you're dead."

"…I thought the same. But when you catch on that you've become what you've hated—shit, maybe you've been projecting all along." Ross turned to face him, finally, with his brow furrowed. "Now I'm not one to get all touchy or sit with these sort of things, and God knows it's not like I could have told this to anyone else—they'd have thought I'd've lost it."

"Happy to be a sounding board for your thoughts, General."

"You have given me a lot to think about, I suppose. But why are you here, Stark? Really?

"Like I said, General. Most I can do is work on doing better.  Eventually, we will, all of us will, have to question what it really means being American; or, I should say, being human."

Chapter Text

James was a patient man—always had been. He could remain in the same position for hours with no issue. Even now he barely felt the chill of the pavement and the sensation of gravel digging into his leathers. That was nothing—temporary. All he had to do was wait. He'd done it in blazing heat, icy winds, and mud so thick it could suck you in like quicksand. James' trigger finger tensed ever so slightly at the sound of running footsteps on pavement.

Elsa stood out like a beacon and she never made an attempt to hide it. She seemed to go out of her way to flash her bright red hair and purple clothing. Elsa's loudness was perfect cover for him to slip away. To watch unnoticed and wait for just the right opportunity. He placed her within his sights. The crosshairs settled firmly on her back and followed her down the alleyway. Probably looking for him. She wouldn't find him. No one ever spotted him before they suddenly found themselves at the feet of their Maker.

He held his breath. Elsa took another few steps and turned at the sound of nails clicking along the street—a dog. When she turned back toward him he pressed the trigger.

The so-called dog yelped as the round entered its neck with a spray of blood. Its large jaws gnashed, fangs glinting bright white in the full moonlight. The red of its four eyes and two tongues glowed before it gave one last shudder and went still. Elsa nudged it with her boot and held up her right hand, thumb up. James nodded in satisfaction and broke down his setup with practiced efficiency. The small Swiss mountain town slowed at sundown and died by 9 o'clock. The only activity was at the local bar, where the rowdy drunkards and music hid their activity. James slung his rifle on his back and stepped off the edge of the building. He landed in a crouch.

"Whew, your eye continues to impress, Handsome." Elsa bared her teeth in a fierce smile as she tied the hound's legs together for carrying. They would dispose of it in the woods—burn it so no scavengers could taste its flesh and turn into horrors themselves. James found himself learning new things about the supernatural every day; he figured war would have prepared him but he had been proved wrong several times.

"The hell is it, anyway?" He asked. The glassy-eyed stare made him shift. The scent of sulfur grew stronger the closer he drew—it fell heavy on his tongue. If Elsa was bothered by it, if she even noticed, she wasn't making any indication.

"Hell is right on the nose. Back in England we called 'em Devil Dogs, but these hounds go by several names. They are an integral part of The Wild Hunt—some say they escort The Allfather Wodan, or some other warrior-king. Some believe they scour the battlefield for the dead in service of the Valkyrie. Others? Under the command of angels, biblical figures, psychopomps, what-have-you." She dusted off her hands before slipping her gloves on.

"If that's the case," James began, "then why is it here? And alone?"

"Good catch. That's the million dollar question, innit?" Elsa grasped one gigantic fang in a small hand and yanked. James grimaced as she shoved it in her bag. "That'll make a damn good weapon." For a moment, James allowed himself to reminisce about the old days. He didn't remember enough to discern whether they were good or not. Probably not, considering it was wartime and people were dying by the minute on multiple fronts; that didn't even count the poor souls who were being rounded up and-

James was grateful for his shitty memory sometimes—it made getting used to living in this day and age so much easier. It made wanting to live so much easier.

Elsa would have fit right in with the Howling Commandos. Hell, Dugan would have got on one knee and proposed while the bullets were flying. Would have—except only Gabe was still kicking. Tony offered to set up a meeting but James…didn't know. Wasn't sure if he was ready. Gabe would probably be disappointed in who he had become. James still couldn't tell Jackie about his time with her father, much less-

He returned to the present.

"You got quiet there, Elsa. What aren't you saying?"

She clicked her tongue. Her hair was the same shade as the hound's blood staining the cobblestone. "The thing about The Wild Hunt is that it, without fail, portends a calamity. War, plague…death follows in its wake. When you hear the hounds baying your life is over."

Unease creeped up James' neck like ivy vine, and twisted around his throat. "This isn't the end, is it?"

"No. I've got nothing but my gut but it's telling me the things we've been putting down these past few months…something's wrong. It's never been like this before. I don't know if it's a sign of the changing times-"

"Or, like you said, an omen."

"Mm."

"…Then you've noticed."

"Sure have. The trail's been heading steadily northward." They stared at the dog for a moment longer before she sighed. "Well, Eric's still having the time of his life down in Romania—why don't we join him for a spell for a little holiday?"

"Beheading vampires is your idea of a vacation? Of course it is."

"Of course it is," she cooed. Elsa hefted the carcass onto her shoulders with ease. Its head flopped down by her hip.

"Come on now, Elsa, you know the rules. No lady's carrying anything larger than her purse around me," James said jokingly in an attempt to dispel the heavy mood. Elsa smirked.

"Cryin' shame we don't get gentlemen like you anymore, Handsome. Don't you fret, I can handle a little hellhound. You did the killing, after all."

James moved to follow her. He turned back, briefly, to gaze at the mountains towering over them—the ancient, craggy faces glowering down at him as if to remind him of how small he was. How insignificant humans were.

He followed Elsa into the night.

"The President will see you, now." The Chief of Staff said. Tony  jumped up and gave her his best PR smile.

He had totally forgotten her name but it was too late to ask Stephen what it was. His husband eyed him and then sighed. He wrapped a hand around Tony's and tapped out a quick code along the side of his palm. S-H-A-R-O-N C-U-T-T-I-N-G. "Thank you so much Ms. Cutting. I hope we haven't caused you too much trouble." His baby was the absolute best. He should buy him something expensive after this. Tony had never actually been to the Oval Office, despite his father's many trips in and around D.C. For some reason no one had trusted Tony enough to let him tag along. So hurtful. 

President Ellis was another white man in a long line of white men over the age of 50. He had run on a politically toothless platform, trying to be as unoffensive as possible after Bush's controversial time in office—to put it kindly. Tony hadn't paid much mind to politics up until…the past year, really, but as he looked at Ellis's face he couldn't help but think they should have given that Junior Senator from Illinois with the funny name a shot. Ah well. General Ross stood off to the side, straight backed as if he were back in Basic. Rhodey gave the briefest of winks before he, too, put on his business face.

"Mr. President. It's an honor," Tony said, unwinding his good hand from Stephen's to shake the other's firmly. Ellis waved him off and motioned to the chairs situated around a large table. The stained wood gleamed in the light.

"Dr. Stark! A pleasure to finally meet the man behind some of our most ingenious technology. A real shame about your father—I knew him personally when I was still a Senator up in Maryland. He had a lot more to give the world."

"Oh, he sure did. He sure did. And I would be remiss if I didn't introduce my lovely husband."

"No need! Your work speaks for itself, Doctor…er, Stark? I hope if I ever need a tune up you'll keep your schedule open," President Ellis chuckled. Stephen smiled.

"I am quite busy but I'll always make time for our esteemed President. Although, you wouldn't happen to be the same Senator Ellis who voted against same-sex marriage in your state, would you?" Stephen asked, eyebrows raised in the way they always did when he was about to hurt somebody's feelings. Ooh, it's been too long! Tony could watch him for hours—Rhodey's pointed glare in his periphery made him sigh. Platypus always ruined his fun. Guess he'll have to settle for Stephen tormenting his Board of Directors, instead. Greene sure did get uppity.

Tony placed a hand on Stephen's knee. "Babe, you must be mistaken-"

"I have a photographic memory. I'm never mistaken-"

"-The President would never have done anything of the sort. Infringing upon the rights of American citizens? Surely not."

Ellis coughed. "Yes, well, times have changed and we must change with them! Now. I have read the comprehensive reports regarding the incident in Manhattan."

"Do you mean that little thing they're referring to as the Harlem Terror?"

"Right. Well. Your actions and quick thinking have saved many lives."

"I'm glad for that; really. I wish I could say I built the suit for that reason but it turned out to be…therapeutic."

"What had happened to you was truly horrific. I once again extend my deepest sympathies and apologies."

Tony shook his head. "Those who had a hand in that can't hurt me anymore—I'm more sorry those poor kids were killed over something as petty as greed."

"Their sacrifice will not have been in vain."

Tony didn't answer right away. The words bounced around in his mind as his eyes examined Ellis' face. The face of a lifelong politician. He couldn't even claim to have gotten into the game to make a difference. The silence caused Ellis and some of his staff to fidget (Ross and Rhodey could probably stand at attention until the sun set), yet Tony took his time in answering.

"Believe me, Mr. President, I intend on making sure of that."

"…Then we are in agreement!" President Ellis smiled. "I must admit this is all fantastic. Something out of the movies, right? We will need cutting edge technology to meet-"

"If you are intimating that I hand over the Iron Man tech you are very much mistaken. Sir."

Ellis startled, then said, "Dr. Stark, you have seen what happened?"

"Yeah, I noticed something going on," Tony said while gesturing to his sling.

"With an army of suits like yours so many of our soldiers-!"

"And still, I must, decline. My husband made the initial call but he is amazing at anticipating my desires."

"I am. It's a gift," Stephen added.

Tony continued, "Isn't he amazing and totally not after my billions and billions of dollars? He's only cut my break lines once, the little tease. Now, allow me to make myself clear: No More Weapons. I am the sole creator and authorized user of that technology and its power source and it will remain that way for the time being. I am not the business of Death any longer. But, hey! I'll be more than happy to get you our next iteration of the StarkPhone free of charge—encrypted based on your security protocols, of course."

"Don't be unreasonable, Dr. Stark. The United States Government cannot and will not allow that much firepower to remain in the hands of a private citizen!"

"If you were so concerned about private citizens and their fire power you'd have done more to uphold that pesky little campaign promise about gun control. What happened to that, by the way? We're both incredibly busy so I'm sure it just got lost in the noise."

Ellis' nostrils flared. Tony smiled and continued.

"President Ellis this may come as a surprise to you but I do want to work with you. I find you to be reasonable and I look forward to designing a humane holding facility for those who cannot be placed in the general prison population. But let's not mince words because my painkillers are fading by the second: you were elected into office by the skin of your teeth and the questionable grace of the Electoral College. The upcoming midterms are looking to be brutal for your party. Your popularity is sinking by the day. Now I don't blame you for the disaster that was the Bio-Force Project—that was your predecessor. But you are responsible for several decisions that appear to have been made for political expediency rather than best practices—and by best practices I mean the ones that don't result in rage monsters tearing across a New York City Burrough-"

"Stark-"

"I am not finished and you are going to let me finish because that little ~incident~ could have easily gone from 'The Harlem Terror' to 'The Manhattan Massacre'. And the only reason it didn't was because of my gorgeous husband, the original rage monster who started this nonsense to begin with, and myself…Well, us and Beyoncé."

Ellis looked around at his people, mouthing Beyoncé's name in disbelief while Rhodey sighed. Stephen let out a small cough—which, win. Tony winked at him before turning back to the President.

"And you want me to provide you with more high tech weaponry? What, so we can have a repeat of this disaster? No. Stark Industries will continue to work with the Government in providing support in the form of improved protection and rescue capabilities. I'll shake hands and kiss as many babies as you want on that. But you aren't getting my suit."

"Our foes around the globe are already attempting to build similar suits, Dr. Stark! I'm sure you are aware? Russia, Iran, China-"

"They won't." Tony's quiet declaration cut through Ellis' raising voice. "They will try. I've seen the footage. I don't envy the surgeons who have to rebuild the spines of those poor bastards. But that won't stop them. They will try and continue to try no matter how many bodies they throw into the grinder—and if that isn't a metaphor for the real tragedy of this entire affair. But here's the thing. I am Iron Man. The suit and I are one to turn over the suit is to turn over myself.

I will not be used in some desperate ploy to pad your falling ratings; I will not let myself be used as propaganda for the American government to trot out when convenient—and Stark Tech will no longer be used as instruments in your questionable wars. I've had my fill of that and I would very much like to be able to look my daughter in the eye when my time on this rock is up."

Ellis leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his face. "Dr. Stark, if you will not turn over the Iron Man armor over to the American people-"

"There are no cameras here, Mr. President; you need not go through all that rigamarole. You aren't talking about the average citizen and we all know it." This time Tony ignored Rhodey's look.

"-then you leave me little choice but to see that our remaining contracts with your company are terminated. We will have to prioritize development with a supplier who will work with us."

Several Board members will shit multiple bricks but JARVIS could figure out the financials later. Stephen squeezed his hand—that was all Tony needed. They could lose everything and be left on the streets and that would be all he needed. Tony didn't know what he did to get such unquestioning, continuous support but he hoped to figure it out so he could do it again.

"With all due respect, Mr. President," General Ross began. Tony, Stephen, and even Rhodey stared at him in shock. "I do not agree with that course of action. As you are well aware Stark Industries' products are high quality-"

"Thank you, but my hand has been forced. I have to have something to tell the Vice President when he meets with the Senate. We need weapons, General. Weapons."

Stephen clicked his tongue. "SI's been giving you weapons for decades—have you people been misplacing them or something-?" 

"And frankly Sterns already has it out for Dr. Stark, here," Ellis finished.

"I may or may not have slept with his daughter," Tony muttered to Stephen. "She meant nothing to me. You are the light of my life, carinyo."

"Restrain yourself, Gomez," Stephen sighed in response.

"As head of the Defense Committee, Sterns'll be going to a contractor who will begin development on similar tech." Ellis, to his credit, ignored their banter.

"Let me guess: Hammer?" Tony asked.

"Yes," Ellis said. General Ross looked pained enough that Tony actually felt sorry for the man.

"Then I wish you all the best of luck, Mr. President. The specs for the facility will be on your desk come Monday. Gentle warning: I'm going to insist on several visits to make sure we're at least attempting to comply with UN Guidelines. If you have any questions have your people call my people because I'm going to be busy—oh, by the way, President Ellis."

"Yes?" The man eyed him suspiciously. He had spent his entire adult life surviving Washington politics, so that was fair.

"You must be aware that this won't be the end. Now that the box has been ripped open all sorts of things will come out of the woodwork. With what and how do you plan to address that?"

"As we always have. And SHIELD will take care of that—these matters go beyond American soil, so the World Security Council is in charge."

Tony pursed his lips. "Hmm…figured as much. Another gentle warning—you might want to decouple yourself from those organizations as soon as possible."

"Is that a threat, Dr. Stark?" Ellis snapped. Tony leaned forward, suddenly. Done with the posturing. He'd had to play along for decades and he was rather sick of it when there were more important things for them to worry about. So much death, and for what??

"I have never made a threat a day in my life, Mr. President. Unlike what you've just done to try to get more weapons out of me."

"I have done no such-"

"On top of that, you also seem to have forgotten just how smart I am and how long I've been building instruments of murder." That got their attention. Tony had no idea what it was about him that made his supposed allies think he was some kind of hapless pushover but he was getting a little sick of that as well. Maybe it was his height—fuck if he knew. "Dear ol' dad, whom you've praised, by the way, got me going when he found out I could create my own schematics at the age of four. What were you doing at that age, Mr. President?" 

Ellis didn't answer. No one did. Tony didn't let that distract him from staring down watery blue eyes. "I thought so. Now, don't let my good looks and irreverent demeanor fool you. I really don't like it when someone threatens something of mine." Ellis twitched—small, and hard to see, but he did. He was well aware Tony could make things nasty for him if Tony were so inclined. Switching contractors wasn't only a matter of funds—it was a matter of losing access, influence, and scores of jobs across multiple governments. Permits they have held for decades would become worthless; they still had the minutiae of leases and utilities to honor on top of other expenses associated with running a corporation. Once the news got out SI stocks would plummet as a result. A slow and careful transition while building up their presence in alternative markets was one thing; Stephen had saved them quite a bit of money that Tony still owed him for. However companies of SI's size were not very nimble. At the fastest it would have taken a good half decade to do so in a responsible manner. But with this they were only months in...not even a goddamn year. Tony would lose billions with a fucking b—it would have outright killed a smaller company. Everyone in the room knew that. Ellis must have been counting on that leverage.

But Tony Stark only had to learn his lesson once, even if this one was a hard one to accept. People would make their own decisions and, ultimately, there was little he could do to change that. He'd all but begged his own father for attention to no avail—Howard Stark had made his own choices on what was important. His mother had made hers—often deferring to her husband even when it was clear it wouldn't be for Tony's benefit. Aunt Peggy made hers. Obadiah made his. It was what it was. Tony wasn't going to beg for scraps when he deserved the whole goddamn pie; not any longer. He glanced at Stephen. Stephen only twitched his lips in a smile. He'd wanted to for the jugular at the outset, after all. Ugh, surely it was impossible to love someone so much.

And, so, Tony made a choice of his own.

"Everything I say is a promise. And the WSC is going to turn into an albatross you'll be begging for me to solve when the time comes—and I will. I've been told I'm a kind man and luckily for you I believe it. However, seeing as I am no longer under any contractual obligations you will be paying for my consultancy fees. Do keep in mind that I have mouths to feed and my beautiful husband's lifestyle to maintain. I will be exorbitantly expensive."

Tony saw when Ellis finally realized he had made a mistake. Some Stark Tech would have been much better than none at all. Fortunately, the legal team had always ensured the patents remained in Stark hands. Once the period expired the government would have to hand over any and all they had, or enter into, again, exorbitantly expensive licensing agreements. Still, the man controlled his expression rather admirably.

"Now, Dr. Stark-"

"We're quite done, Mr. President. I do hope you and your friends over in Asia enjoy disfiguring your own countrymen in your dick measuring contest. I'd have won that, by the way." Stephen made a choking noise; which, well, wouldn't be the only thing he would be choking on within the hour. "Lovely talking with you—let's do lunch sometime."

Centuries of knowing the man and he still managed to surprise him. Stephen had little idea how Tony managed it. It probably went with the stupidly high IQ. Tony placed his near ever-present sunglasses on his face and wriggled his fingers. Stephen scoffed but clasped their hands together with little fuss. He also hadn't missed the heated look sent his way before the dark shades covered brown eyes. It was Tony's, "I am going to absolutely destroy you—but respectfully" look; which, well, there were worse ways to spend the day.

Politely threatening the President of the United States, however, hadn't been on Stephen's time-travel bingo card.

"That went well. Whew, the Board is going to have the time of their lives come tomorrow morning." Tony was all smiles despite the massive loss in net worth he was looking at. He would still have more money than most humans would see in the existence of their family line, but it wasn't anything to sneeze at. Stephen had already experienced going from luxury cars and watches to having nothing but the literal clothes on one's back. If it happened again he wouldn't be pressed—they would be fine. Stark Industries had appeared to bounce back in the previous timeline, but at this point Stephen was taking nothing for granted. Too much had already changed and the fixed points had shifted as a result.

Still, he pressed a kiss to Tony's neck. "Allow me to take care of sharing the bad news. I insist. Greene would greatly benefit from the revelation."

"Babe, you complete me. We are absolutely having sex within the next-"

"So, have you lost your mind?" Rhodey sounded resigned, irritated, disbelieving, and stunned all at the same time. Remarkable, to be honest.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Pudding top-"

"What does that even mean-??"

"-that was me being nice. He is still your boss; that's the only reason I didn't tell him how I really felt. I've been keeping an eye out—you're in between a rock and a hard place already."

"Thanks for thinking of me," Rhodey said with a snort. "And what do you mean keeping an eye out?"

"Everyone knows we're BFFs. I stop making weapons then your job becomes a hell of a lot more difficult. Well, right now your job as liaison is nonexistent."

"…I may have been getting some pointed recommendations," Rhodey admitted.

"I get that. Believe me. And you seem to enjoy your career so I restrained myself. Play nice with the Brass—we do want you to get that nice, fat pension, after all. On my end I'll be spending my time on other ventures, so don't worry your pretty lil' head about me."

"I can't stand you." But Rhodey patted his shoulder with care, aware of his injuries.

"He is pretty annoying, isn't he?" Stephen asked.

"Extremely."

"I am right here. And just for that I won't be buying you that bespoke Hermes bag," Tony said.

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you will."

"I absolutely will but let's pretend for a moment before I pound you through the matt-"

"This is my cue you can see yourselves out." Rhodey immediately veered off down a conveniently placed adjacent hallway.

"We tease him so much." Tony kissed the back of Stephen's hand. "Wanna call Agent Ross and harass him for a bit?"

"Your idea of foreplay is concerning and very unhealthy… …I have him on speed dial give me a second."

Misty braced herself as she knocked on the apartment door. She was coming off a long shift and was more than ready to turn in. She was half certain her fro looked as tired as she felt. But there was one last thing to take care of. Misty listened as the many locks clicked open and then May Parker was smiling at her the next moment.

"Detective Knight, please come in!" May backed away and allowed her to enter. The apartment itself was in a state of untidiness—not that Misty was judging. Considering the circumstances it was amazing that May was doing as well as she was. She noted the reddened eyes and sallowed skin but said nothing. Misty sunk onto the couch and waited for the other woman to settle across from her. From her vantage point she could see the kitchen and the pictures and childish paintings stuck to the refrigerator. A healthy and beaming Benjamin Parker stared back at her from a glossy photograph.

"Mrs. Parker, I'm sorry to trouble you so late at night."

"No, not at all. There hasn't been much sleeping going on around here."

"Then Peter's still…?"

"Yeah, he's-" May had to take a moment to swallow back her tears. "He still hasn't said a word since…that night."

"I'm glad I found him when I did. Keep me updated, okay? The little guy grew on me."

"God, I wish more of your colleagues were like—oh, I g-guess I shouldn't-"

"Believe me, Mrs. Parker. I get it. Some things…I think about it a lot myself. So he's still given no indication if he saw anything?"

"No! I…I hope not. The funeral home did a good job with the…damage…but—I really hope not."

"You and me both. The cameras only show a dark figure. Speaking of, that's what I came to talk to you about."

May's face fell. "They're shelving it, aren't they?"

"On the contrary. This doesn't leave the room, but there have been more. Same M.O., but the locations have been staggered across the city. We're keeping a lid on it to prevent panic, but I want you and Peter to be extra careful, okay?"

"Oh my god. You mean there's a serial killer?" May dropped her voice into a whisper.

Misty's nodded, sighing deep from her chest. Bad enough a pair of monsters rampaged around her old neighborhood—they couldn't even be safe from their fellow human beings. "Yeah, that's the current theory and I'm inclined to agree. They'll slip up eventually, but I don't want any more deaths than there already have been. So you two do me a favor and stay safe indoors at night, okay? Whoever this is doesn't appear to be active during the day."

May nodded furiously, eyes wide. With that message given, Misty reached into her bag for some better news. "Okay, I had hoped the little guy was doing better, but if he's not I may have just the thing. My friend Pam works for Metro-General—you know, the one in Manhattan?"

"Oh, yes! Peter was sickly as a baby so he was in and out of their Children's wing a lot."

"That's the one. She gave me the card for a therapist. Since Peter seems to be selectively mute they probably won't recommend a speech pathologist, but if it's longer term the doctor can provide Peter with some alternatives. They're fluent in ASL, for one. I think it'll help. I hope I haven't overstepped?"

May looked so relieved she had to wipe away a fresh amount of tears. "No, this is—this is amazing. Thank you. It's terrible, but I had no idea Ben did so much around here until h-he…um. But won't that be expensive?"

"I'll be honest—it normally would be. But since one of their doctors is married to Tony Stark he's started throwing money at them; so Pam says at least. There's a short application to fill out so they have your insurance and net income, but considering the circumstances you're a shoo-in for financial assistance. I'll give Pam a holler, too—let her know you're coming."

May's lips trembled and she took the card with such care it may as well have been made of fine china. "We'll set up an appointment. I can't thank you enough. Do you want to see him?"

"Sure! I'd love to see the lil man. He's still building that lego thing?"

"When isn't he? But I don't have the heart to make him stop." They traveled down the short hallway and May knocked on Peter's door. "Petey? You have a visitor. It's Detective Misty."

May opened the door to reveal Peter, adorned in dinosaur pajamas, toying with a piece of lego between his fingers. Misty smiled and entered the room. She knelt down beside him. "It's good to see you again, Peter. Well, I think you've grown a foot taller since I been here last!" That got her a brief smile, thank goodness, but it faded just as quickly.

Misty knew she probably shouldn't get attached, but kids had a way of making her soft. Finding the poor thing cowering behind a dumpster had nearly stopped her heart. He had been about two blocks away from his uncle's body—both had gone down to a nearby bodega but never returned, which was when May had called the precinct in a panic. Ben had been unceremoniously dumped for a jogger to find, and the autopsy had revealed little other than the obvious cause of death. Strange, given the peculiar delay even after a request for release, but there were no leads for her to follow.

Misty smoothed a wayward strand from Peter's face. "Okay, Peter. I brought your aunt something and I hope you'll go for the two of us, okay? It's nothing serious—we just want to take you to see someone to make sure everything's alright."

Peter's lips pressed together, then he shrugged. Misty and May looked at each other. Better than nothing.

"Now I'm gonna keep on looking for the bad person who hurt your uncle, okay? But I'm gonna need you to make sure you eat your veggies and rest up. We don't want you getting sick."

May mouthed her thanks from the doorway. It was probably a foolish promise to make—the city was crawling with people and that didn't even include the millions who came in for their commute.

Misty, however, never encountered a puzzle she couldn't solve.

Chapter Text

The aging television's signal dimmed and greyed, but never outright died. Ivan found it to be a fitting metaphor for his life—their lives, as there had never been a time his father's presence had not been intertwined with his own. It permeated everything like the cheap vodka and gin the man favored. The smell of it leaked from his breath and every pore and left a film on what meager belongings they had. And yet, still, Ivan could never leave.

The sight of a fantastic battle, that even seen still begged to be believed, played on repeat on every station the antenna could pick up. Ivan cared little. Let the Americans kill each other. He had never trusted the so-called attempts to play God with human biology; if such hubris resulted in chaos then it was what it was.

"Vanya…" Anton gasped. Ivan glanced up from stirring the hot cereal. It had been a good week so he had been able to splurge a bit. Actual breakfast—and hot. His father wheezed, "Vanya…that should be you…"

Ivan's brows furrowed and he glanced at the screen once more. His father lay prone on the thin cot, covered by an equally thin blanket. His jaundiced eyes were staring fixedly at the screen. Currently, they were playing the battle again. The android was firing blasts from its palms to contain the monsters beating each other to death. He sighed. Well, it wouldn't be the first time Anton had hallucinated.

"Don't speak nonsense," he grunted.

"I know that glow…anywhere…anywhere…"

That made him pause. Ivan had always caught on quickly. His father had never gone into great detail of what he had done in America. He had spent most of his time cursing Howard Stark's name. Cursing the fact that Stark's riches should have been his.  Called him a thief. Liar. It was an old song and dance. He had honestly never put much stock into it. His father was drunk and enraged on his best days; he had never hinted he had seen his son as anything other than a burden from a one night stand. Even when Ivan had followed his father's footsteps and sold weaponry on the black market, the moment he had come out of prison he had been met with angry fists. The height of hypocrisy, yet Ivan had never been able to leave after that. Not after seeing Anton's deteriorating condition.

The picture quality was archaic at best, but there was just enough color to see the bright blue that contrasted with the red of the armor. Impressive technology—he could recognize that.

"That glow…that was what Stark had stolen from me…"

Ivan's head whipped around so he could face his father properly. "That is Stark technology?" The pieces fell together.

How very interesting.

"That fame—adoration—money…that should have been you…"

Before Ivan could speak a heavy knock on the door interrupted him. He grunted in annoyance and ducked under the laundry line barely holding their ratty clothes. It took a few seconds to undo the chain and locks and throw the door open. Suits. Fantastic. Ivan eyed his visitors with suspicion. He had not done anything illegal (lately), but as a former convict he was wary.

"Yes?" He growled.

"Ivan Antonovich?" The man asked in accented Russian. Ivan huffed and crossed his arms.

"Perhaps. Who is speaking?"

The man grimaced and removed his hat. "I apologize for bothering you so early. This is the last known address of your father, Anton Mihajlovich. Is he in? I knew him from a long time ago."

Ivan glanced at the bearded man and his associates. Guards. After a long moment he threw open the door. "Enter, then."

"Thank you. I hope I'm not too late. He is a hard man to find."

Ivan only shrugged at that. The living room was in a state of disrepair and sloth. Peeling wallpaper and cheaply upholstered furniture. Grime so old it had sunk into the flooring. Ivan had never seen the point in tidying when Anton would only destroy his efforts mere hours later.

Anton still lay in his pitiable state; yet, when the man moved into his field of vision he had come to life in a way Ivan hadn't seen in years.

"Obadiah?" Anton tried to sit up but he cried out in pain and grasped at his torso. The man, Obadiah, held up his hands.

"Don't move, Anton. My God, Howard did a number on you, didn't he?"

It took Ivan a moment to parse the English words. He hadn't had cause to speak it in a while. "You know this man?"

"He was Stark's business partner—a traitor like his friend," Anton said.

"Oh no, don't put that on me. You were the one who couldn't wait." Obadiah turned to Ivan, then. "When they developed the ARC technology, I actually agreed with your father that it had more applications than Howard wanted to admit. But what I didn't agree to was your father, someone who had defected from the USSR, trying to sell the info in the aftermath of the goddamn Red Scare. I'm not sure what you expected me to do at that point. And I wasn't in a position to keep track once you were sent to Siberia. But…ah, that was then."

"We get news here. I know you are in trouble yourself."

Obadiah grimaced. "Yeah. You're not the only one who got screwed over by a Stark. It took me a while, but I managed to hole up somewhere safe. But since you get the news you must also have seen that little dust up in New York? Ah, yes, there we are."

Ivan returned his attention to the screen. The android had approached the news helicopter. It looked threatening in the low light—with slitted eyes and a skull-like grin shaped from the lines around the jaw. The blue glow at its heart shone bright.

"I recognize it," Anton admitted.

"That sort of technology is beyond my people. We need your help. He managed to make that in a cave—and being a Stark he won't stop there. I thought I could stay one step ahead of him, get him first. But as you can see-"

"Yes, they are quite good at that sort of thing." Anton groaned and rolled onto his back. His gaze settled on the ceiling. "I have little time left; but, I have taught my son everything I know, and he has surpassed me. Vanya…go with this man. You can finally have what should be yours."

"Of course, of course! Come on, we have advanced medical facilities as well. We can fix you up-"

Ivan finally spoke, "Do not bother. Not even you can do anything for him, even with liver change. His time will soon be up." The metal figure on the screen seemed to mock them.

"Then let's make sure he can rest with dignity," Obadiah said kindly. Ivan slowly nodded, glancing around their tiny apartment once more. The hot cereal had burned and its cloying smell filled the air, mixing with the stench of unwashed body and alcohol.

His father coughed once. Again. "There is nothing for you here, Vanya; but with him…perhaps…"

Ivan scrutinized the man in front of him. He did not survive prison by being unaware—this man wasn't nearly as kind and genial as he appeared. He wanted something, yet neither Ivan nor Anton were in a position to be picky. And like his father had said, that technology also belonged to them; they should also have benefitted from it.

Starks outfitted murderers with prime weaponry and were thieves, after all.

"Then let us go," Ivan said. Obadiah smiled and clapped his hands.

"Excellent! We'll call in our medics to transfer your father and head to our Moscow residence. I'll fill you with the details there."

"Here," Anton gasped and pulled a wrinkled sheath of stained, yellowing papers from his robe. He had carried those everywhere with him and guarded their contents like a dragon. Ivan reached forward to take them. "I am sorry…All I can give you…is my knowledge."

Stephen inhaled deeply and stretched underneath the thick comforter. He squinted at the brightness in the room before his gaze landed on his clock. 9 am, and his alarm didn't go off. Before he could even question why he spotted the blood red orchid planted in a ceramic pot. Stephen smiled and reached forward to run a gentle fingertip across the soft petals.

"How time flies," Stephen murmured as he sat up. The rest of the bed was empty of husband and child, but now that he was listening for it he could hear talking from the living area. The slippers were on and the Cloak as robe went next. It patted his cheek with affection.

"Why did you let him turn off my alarm?" Stephen asked as he left the bedroom. Cloak shook a sash end at him before tying itself about his waist.

"Aw, looks like Sleeping Beauty woke up before we could finish," Tony greeted him with a bright smile. Fi mirrored it with far sharper teeth. "And that's not the robe I gave you."

"That robe's a little short for small eyes, don't you think?"

"Is it? Put it on and let's confirm that."

"Only when I'm good and ready. Although our anniversary was last week."

"Tell me about it. Nothing went to plan at all-"

"Do you mean threatening the 'Leader of the Free World' wasn't on your docket?"

"Yeah I never understood that title. But like I said, I've never made a threat a day in my life. Hammer will fail miserably—he'd barely make it to the testing stage if that."

"So you're still going to sit on what you uncovered from that base?"

"While sitting on big things is more your specialty than mine-" Tony ignored Stephen's flat stare. "-I think I'll keep it in my holster for the time being. Red, Blade, and Jamie are conveniently in Eastern Europe so I think I'll have them swing by another location for a more covert operation. Blowing up the base was satisfying but we've moved past Battleship—we're playing chess now. The WSC is also deeply compromised and I can't overplay my hand until I have all the specifics."

"So they are also involved…" Stephen murmured. He assumed, but everything had been fucked. It became worse when multiple governments had done their best to scrub or muddy the waters to avoid embarrassment.

"It's elementary, my dear Watson. SHIELD is under their purview and the only way such a pervasive infestation could occur was if someone up top was directing the show." Tony turned off the stove so he could face Stephen properly.

"Please. If anyone is going to be Sherlock it would be me."

"False. But let's save that debate for later. Now, this is an infection that's been going on longer than I've been alive. There is no untangling SHIELD from HYDRA at this point. And as SHIELD is under WSC purview-"

"-then there is no untangling it, either." Stephen…had to sit with that for several seconds. "That's why you said what you said. It really was a warning."

"Of course it was. What, you don't believe me?"

"I always believe you—which is why I went along with it. I knew you had something, but not this."

Tony grinned. "I've got nothing against Ellis and there have been worse men who've sat in his office. He's easy to handle. But he cares more about his image than he should—even for a politician."

"So when this inevitably comes out, all the major powers attached will be implicated."

"Indeed they will. It's separate enough from the UN that they'll get through just fine—can't say the same for America. I started Fury on it because, well, while his morals are a little skewed compared to mine, he'd take a bullet to the brain before signing up with neo-Nazis. And he has his methods I'm not suited for. But even he came in after the whole Hydra recruitment, along with the other folks who came in decades after Paperclip. This amalgamation of SHIELD is all they know. Not an excuse that they didn't do more to question certain policies, but it's an explanation."

"But still…it's the very thing SHIELD has been fighting against. Surely-"

"Those who could have truly known the difference are either dead or conveniently crippled with dementia." Stephen winced a bit at that. Tony nodded and continued.

"The way I figure it's like a cancer. It starts with a couple of cells undetected but then its strength and influence spreads. The next thing you know you've got malignant growth all over the place. Right now I'm trying the surgical route. Maybe it'll work—hope does spring eternal, after all. But probability says-"

"We're long past Stage Four so more aggressive measures need to be taken.

"Precisely. The next step is the chemo. Jarvis is doing that as we speak. He makes his old man so proud. But in the very unlikely event that works, I'll have to pull the plug."

Death. Stephen examined his husband's face. "That would be quite disruptive. Your father spent a great deal of his blood, sweat, and tears on that organization."

"Yup. But in my defense, the SHIELD he built and thought he knew had long disappeared."

"Hm. Let me know when you do. I'll bring the fireworks."

"This is the reason why I married you. I'm the envy of the Sugar Daddy Club."

"There's a club?"

"Babe, I'm the President. So, now you understand. President Ellis will be crying for help and I will milk him for everything he's worth. When that happens my darling Rhodey's War Machine will be all ready for him."

"Should I be jealous? You spent so much time building a suit for another man." Stephen sat at the counter and smiled at Sofia's cheerful waving. The finished dishes were plated on the kitchen island. Stephen had moved on to full on veganism to Tony's horror and disgust, but he still made an effort to put together a colorful spread. Stephen should give him a little reward—not too much, of course. Best to keep the man humble.

"Carinyo, the only reason I am able to do my work is because my heart beats with love for you."

"Not bad, Arno. But I still had work to today."

"Had is the key word. My baby's been working too hard so I called Douglass to get you some much needed rest."

"Since when were you on a first name basis with Dr. Fuller?"

"Around the time Christine became Chris."

"She's never been Chris."

"According to her she's been Chris since she could toddle and you are the only one who refuses to cooperate."

Stephen shrugged. "That sounds like me. Now hand your daughter over. She needs to get dressed so we can be somewhat on time for her appointment today." Sofia made a face and shook her head so sharply a braid slapped Tony across the face. "We're going. I thought you liked Beatrice?"

Sofia pouted at him. Stephen only raised an eyebrow. "What have I told you about that, Sofia Annette?" She paused, then turned her big eyes and quivering lower lip up at Tony. "Exactly. Use it where it would actually work."

"I am truly a sucker. But not today, Fi-Fi. This is important. I'm all for artistic expression but, whew, we need to see someone about your new direction," Tony said.

"Well, these are certainly…something, Mr. Stark, Dr. Strange." Beatrice, Sofia's therapist, studied the drawings filled with bodies piled up on top of each other like a garbage heap. Her eyebrows had all but disappeared behind her bangs and Tony knew it.

"Break it to me easy, doc. Is it a goth phase? I mean, in my day it was punk, so I'm not sure what it entails. I should have never let her listen to Black Sabbath and Megadeth. Who does that? Ozzy Osbourne isn't for six year olds!"

"Breathe, Tony—wait. Are you telling me our daughter has been listening to Megadeth??" Stephen cried.

"I'm certain that isn't the case, Mr. Stark-" Beatrice tried to intervene.

"Look, I didn't want to tell you this but Fi and I don't really care for that classical stuff you play-" Tony began.

Stephen's eyes narrowed. "Classical music is rich in history and stimulates the growing mind! She has shown great talent at the piano and I will see her gift properly nurtured and celebrated even if I have to crush her enemies beneath my feet."

"…I had no idea you were that sort of mom. It's kinda hot."

"Thank you."

"But cool it on the enemy-crushing; need I remind you that her 'enemies' are other children?"

"Tell that to Susan."

"…Moving on. What do you think caused this behavior, doc? Nothing's changed recently-"

"-other than the Megadeth," Stephen muttered. Tony threw up his arms.

"Do you always have to get the last word?"

"I typically do. I'm just pointing out that maybe our impressionable daughter wouldn't be drawing lifeless bodies with twisted limbs in copious amounts of blood if her father didn't blast 'Symphony of Destruction' while in the lab!"

"'Symphony of Destruction' is a masterpiece and I'll not have you slandering it in my vicinity!"

"Slander? Oh believe me, you haven't seen me when I'm in a mood to slander-"

"As a matter of fact I have. To be honest that's also kinda hot."

"Only 'kinda'?"

"Okay, very hot."

"Then maybe I should slander something of yours-" Now this was way more like it!

"Have you forgotten where you are?" Beatrice interrupted. Tony cleared his throat. Ooh. Right. He and Stephen awkwardly shifted away from each other.

"Getting back to the topic at hand. Is this a goth thing?"

"God," Stephen sighed.

"Yes, babe?" Tony smirked at Stephen's disgust. "Laugh all you want. I never had one of those, but I thought that only popped up around 16 or something."

"Tony let it go this is not a goth phase," Stephen sighed.

"How would you know? I mean, not that I would try to change her—I'm totally supportive of her choices. But goth? Maybe I'm being too judgmental. At least she isn't popping her collar or wearing pastel."

"Good point. It could be much worse," Stephen agreed.

"I bet you had a goth phase—you look the type." 

Stephen remained (suspiciously!!!) quiet before he turned to his colleague. "Bea, you've gotten the results from the speech pathologist. I do admit I'm concerned."

"I understand. Everything is working as it should. Her issues with swallowing have abated and she is always so energetic and cheerful. To be honest, I've never met a child so expressive! It's almost uncanny how much she communicates without language." Stephen and Tony glanced at each other.

"Haha, yes. She's a very expressive mini human. Totally human," Tony stuttered.

Beatrice blinked. "…Right. Well. And you've reported that she still resists all attempts at ASL?"

"We're certain she understands it—or appears to, at least. It did take us an entire month to learn so maybe we should have focused more on it."

"I—wait. Are you saying it took you a month to learn an entirely new language?"

"I knew it. We need to delegate more—there's no excuse for us to have taken so long." Stephen patted his hand but Tony could just kick himself.

"How the f-I mean. It's wonderful! How? Are you completely fluent?"

Stephen nodded. "Photographic memory—on my part at least. But as it is a language we did stumble a bit on proper phrasal formation and grammatical usage, but the tutor you recommended was very competent."

"They were amazing. Remind me to send them a cake when we leave," Tony said.

"Of course, dear."

"Okay," Beatrice murmured as she scribbled in her notes. Tony had to wonder why so many people had that reaction around them. Well, that was a problem for future him.

"We know you would have alerted us if you noticed anything alarming, but I'm at a loss."

"I…well. I must be honest. I have never, in all my years in this profession, met a child who actively resisted communication. In all forms. She simply does not want to. Now there have been children who had friction with conventional methods, but even they needed the outlet that communication provides. Her literacy is also, well, nonexistent. I will continue, of course, but you may have to prepare yourselves. Without that means I'm not sure we can truly decipher what she's trying to tell us with paint alone. And I must admit, the amount of bodies is…unsettling."

Tony ran a tired hand down his face. What to do. Sofia was expressive—incredibly so. None of them had any issues understanding her needs, but eventually they would need to up the complexity and there were only so many combinations of facial and bodily expressions before that was no good.

"Well, I know you will continue to bring your best work to the task." Stephen said, standing.

"I do wish I had better news for you. Sofia is just a joy and I want to put together something that works for her. Humans need to communicate just as much as we need to breathe-"

"Wait. Wait." Tony held up a hand, mind racing. "Could you repeat that last sentence. Slowly, like we're two."

Beatrice looked startled and glanced at Stephen in concern, but did as asked. "I…merely said that humans need to communicate just as much as we need to breathe."

Stephen sucked in a breath. They stared at each other for several long seconds. Then, "We…are stupid."

"Incredibly stupid. The stupidest of stupids," agreed Tony.

"Um," Beatrice said, helpfully.

"You know the drill charge our insurance bye Doc you are the best!" Tony wrapped an arm around Stephen and ushered him through the door. How could the both of them have been so—fucking shit Tony could not believe they looked right over the obvious! The assistant smiled when they entered the waiting room. Sofia was by her side and scribbling furiously on the piece of paper in front of her (no corpses this time thank fuck). Another woman and her son were waiting in the comfortable chairs off to the side.

"Dr. Strange! Mr. Stark! How'd the meeting go?"

"It was incredibly illuminating, lemme tell you," Tony answered.

"Are you ready to go, darling?" Stephen asked. Sofia lit like a miniature sun and hopped to her feet. She snagged the picture before running up to them, presenting it with pride.

"Look at this. Monet would have been sick to meet such talent! Thanks for waiting so patiently like the best girl there is. No trouble, Chloe?"

"None whatsoever as usual! I can't wait to see you next time, Sofia."

"E-Excuse me? Mr. Stark?" The woman, the mother from earlier, had stood from her seat but remained at a distance. "I am so, so sorry to bother you, but I wasn't sure I would ever get the chance to thank you."

It was at that that Tony paused. He was laid-back in many ways but strict with who he talked to on family time. But the woman, frankly, looked ready to float away. Not even the strategically placed makeup hid her exhaustion.

"I'm not sure what I've done, but you're very welcome," he said. The poor woman grimaced.

"My name is May Parker. I know I shouldn't be bothering you, but my nephew and I, um, Peter," she gestured to the quiet boy by her side. He looked up at them for a moment before returning his attention to the lego piece he had in his hands.

"Did you say Peter? As in Peter Parker?" Stephen asked. He looked surprised—a little spooked. Considering their other professions it must have been something.

"Erm, yes…?" Peter's aunt looked equally surprised.

"This is my husband. He works at Metro-General. He never forgets a face. Literally, he can't," Tony said quickly. She relaxed.

"Is that right? Then I must thank you, too. We were at Metro a lot when Petey was younger. But something, um, happened and we were referred here and given help. I never would have been able to…" She mouthed 'afford' so Peter couldn't hear. "…have the time to come otherwise."

Ah, that was right. The Foundation had been something he'd wanted to do for a while, but he had had little time to devote to it. In hindsight Obadiah had really kept him churning out weapons like a tightly wound puppet. Well, there was no changing the past—he could only move forward and that was what the charity hoped to achieve. With Pepper's help they had gotten the Maria Stark Foundation off the ground in record time. Setting up a program with Steph's hospital to start had been a no-brainer. There were a lot of other ventures in the works, but it made Tony happy to see that they had already made a difference.

"Then I'm very glad to have given you the time you needed! My little girl has been seeing Dr. Bea for months, now. She loves it—ain't that right, Fi?"

Sofia nodded and gave them a big thumbs up.

May smiled. "See that, Petey? There's nothing to be scared of." Peter curled into himself in response. May's face crumpled ever so briefly before she fixed a smile on her lips. "It's his first time here and we had a bit of trouble this morning. He…doesn't like leaving the apartment anymore, you see."

Tony nodded. He approached slowly and knelt down to put him and Peter on more equal footing. He held out a hand for Peter to take. The boy looked a little surprised, but hesitantly grasped their hands together in a weak shake. Tony had long become used to kids, thanks mostly to Fi and Riri, but sometimes it was hard to believe that he was ever that small and helpless. He used to be terrified that he would break them as he had been broken. Sometimes he still was.

"It's a pleasure, Peter. Now we don't know each other, but take my advice—from an old man who made a lot of mistakes. I'm going to make a guess and you'll nod if I'm right. Okay?"

Peter's face scrunched in confusion but he nodded.

"Excellent. Something bad happened when you went outside before, right?" Peter stiffened, but he nodded. "And it's scary, but you don't want to bother your aunt, do you? You think you're causing her problems, right?" Peter sniffled and nodded again.

"Oh Petey, you know Uncle Ben and I-" May choked back whatever she was going to say. Tony glanced at Stephen, who looked stricken. Whatever was going on, he'd get to the bottom of it. But that was for later. Instead, he continued.

"I needed a lot of help myself about your age. But I thought I was too big for it—that it was a waste of time. Except I was very wrong. Then when I finally got over myself the problem was five times as big and much worse. Problems don't magically go away no matter how much we wish it."

Peter swallowed.

"Yeah, kid. I know. Running's easy. But you only got so much running in you. I know it's scary, but the truth is everyone needs help. Me. You. Even your Aunt May there. People need help sometimes and it's okay. There's no shame in that. There's no shame in being weak because no one can be strong all the time. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a stinky person who stinks." That got a tremulous smile. "You can quote me on that. But when you find your people, those who are there for you and let you be there for them in return, it's the best thing in the world.

I know the doctor personally and she's good people—swear on it. Let your Aunt and the doctor take care of you. That's what they're there for. That's what adults are supposed to do. And I bet helping you will do wonders for your aunt."

Peter blinked and glanced at May in confirmation. When she smiled and nodded he seemed satisfied. Tony then poked him on the cheek. "Look at this baby fat. C'mon, Pete. I bet you feel responsible, but you're a kid. Don't be in such a rush to do grown-up work. You'll have your entire adult life for that. But when you do get big and strong, you can return the favor if you want. But only when you're paying for your own mortgage—got it? Now, thanks for letting me talk your ear off. Get in there and knock the doc's socks off."

Peter smiled. He jumped when Sofia marched up and thrust her picture in his face. Peter took the drawing carefully.

"That means she likes you. Now, let yourself be helped."

Peter smiled shyly at Sofia, and slid from the chair. He grasped May's waiting hand and all but pulled her towards the office. May smiled at them, tension gone from her body. Then they vanished through the door.

"That was great of you, Mr. S. I tried to get him to join in earlier but the poor thing was skittish." Chloe waved at Sofia once more before heading back to her own desk.

"You gonna tell me what that was?" Tony asked, voice soft. Stephen bowed his head, but he nodded.

"I will. It…appears I am at fault for their pain."

Tony turned toward his husband in surprise; yet, Stephen's eyes were locked on the now closed door.

Chapter Text

Bruce's lungs still stung from his run in the crisp autumn air. The wilds of British Columbia wouldn't normally be his first option for a port of call, but he needed the change in scenery. Desperately. After a few weeks he had come to find a wild beauty in the jagged silhouette of the mountains and the tall grass. The cabin he was currently renting had all the provisions he could want. The owners had looked at him as if he were mad, but money was the true Lingua Franca of the world. The open space with no people was necessary.

The Hulk was slowly, surely, coming under his control.

Bruce wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his ratty sweatshirt. The toboggan made of thick wool did plenty to keep out the chill, however. When he came around the bend he froze at the sight of a package lying on his doorstep. He whirled around in alarm, eyes searching the landscape but finding nothing—not even a bird. He approached with slow steps and squatted down to examine it more closely. It was wrapped in obnoxious holiday themed paper with a giant red bow. The sight made him chuckle. Three guesses on who sent it. After looking it over for a minute or so, Bruce took the chance to pick it up and carry it indoors. The chill was rapidly depleting the warmth he had built up during his exercise, and it wasn't as if he could be killed, anyway.

He set it down on the aging workbench and went about heating the kettle for tea. As it did so, he pried away the ribbon and ripped open the paper. He opened the lid to see a disc the size of his palm, made of smooth metal and tempered glass.

"Huh," Bruce murmured. He picked it up only to nearly drop it when it came to life with a blue glow and Tony Stark's upper body appeared in the hologram.

"Bruce! It took you long enough. Didn't think you had much going on up there." Tony wriggled his fingers in greeting but Bruce only saw his profile, his attention on something off screen.

"What the hell—how did you find me anyway?"

"Bruce, come on. It's me. Once I get a lock on you I never lose you."

"… …That's creepy—you realize that, Dr. Stark?"

"A little, I guess? I mean, I suppose one could see it as-"

"Invasive? Let me guess—you got eyes in the sky, don't you? Do I even want to know the details of your satellite technology?"

"This is so embarrassing, especially since I watched you walk into your cabin."

"Are you seriously watching me right now??"

"Yeah, of course. We're talking." He gestured between the two of them.

"You know what I mean—ugh. I feel a little gross."

"You are absolutely not my type, Brucie Bear. I prefer men who can't rip me in half…or do I?" The asshole even wriggled his eyebrows. Where was Dr. Strange? Bruce had no idea how to handle this man.

"Please see a therapist. I am begging you."

"You're a doctor. Don't you have, like, eighty Ph.Ds?"

"I'd make a poor therapist. Wrong temperament. But I can't believe you need to be told just how megalomaniacal you look right now."

"Don't be silly, Dr. Banner. I would never!"

"Why not? Too far?"

"Not at all—too boring. Drew up a few plans on a whim, tossed them, moved on with my life."

"…That's normal behavior."

"Yeah don't tell the wife. If he knew just how much I kept track of him he'd be pissed."

"You should probably consider it anyway-"

"Moving on from my dysfunctional and deeply ingrained trauma responses, how goes it up North? It's been over a month. Have you found yourself, yet?"

"Something like that." Bruce was momentarily distracted by the whistle of the kettle. By the time he had taken his seat with a piping hot cuppa, Stark had turned his focus his way. Bruce knew the man's accomplishments—of course he did. He had been vehemently opposed that someone with such high-caliber intelligence and creativity would use it on weapons of mass destruction, but after being the cause for the Hulk's existence, Bruce couldn't exactly point fingers any longer.

Bruce also knew that he owed Stark, and Dr. Strange, a great deal. Betty seemed to be doing well at her new post as head of Stark Industries' new bio-tech department (no relation to making weapons of any kind, thank goodness—it was being overseen by Dr. Strange himself). From the way she gushed over Dr. Strange's expertise with the nervous system he was actually a little jealous. What mattered, however, was that she was safe and thriving. It was all he wanted. The cynical part of him, the one that followed him all the way from childhood, wondered what Stark would ask from him. There were good souls, but it seemed few would give so much without expecting anything in return.

Stark smiled at him and shrugged. "Well, take your time. As much as you need. Whenever you're ready we can smuggle back into the country and set you up with a new identity, if you wish. It's up to you."

"Why are you doing this?" Bruce couldn't stop himself from asking.

"What am I doing?" Stark grinned as if he knew he was pushing buttons (and he was successful).

"Keeping an eye out for me. Looking after Betty. You must have some kind of plan."

"So suspicious, Brucie Bear. Believe it or not, I don't want a damn thing from you that you aren't giving away freely. Would that juicy brain of yours come in handy for some ideas I have? Absolutely. I'm not going to obfuscate—I have ambitions. But don't feel obligated to pay me back. I genuinely like you and, hey, maybe we'll be friends in the future…who knows? But if you need to spend time in the Canadian wilderness to get your head on straight, then it is what it is. I wouldn't take too long if I were you—my wife and your girl are getting mighty comfy. Personally, I'm a shameless exhibitionist so I'd be fine, but you might not be."

Bruce couldn't stop the sputter and nearly choking on his tea. But laughter soon followed. It wasn't all that funny, but he found tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Stark pretended not to notice.

"I'm going to change the world, Dr. Banner. If you're interested, there's plenty of room on this ride."

Tony tapped the screen so it went dark, cutting the connection. He swirled in his chair to better watch Stephen attaching the last node to Sofia's head. She poked at the white wire in confusion but refrained from tugging on them as she was asked.

"Are you certain everything is alright?" Jackie asked.

"Just fine. We discovered something quite amazing and we feel that you should see," Stephen answered. "Now, you and Zoe spend a great deal of your time with Sofia. What have you noticed about how she communicates?"

Zoe jumped at being addressed. The poor girl still did that occasionally when at the center of attention. "Um, nothing other than the usual? Sometimes she draws things, and we've been trying to teach her to read, but…"

"It's okay, ZZ Top. The professional therapist with decades of experience hasn't been able to either, don't beat yourself up about it." Tony sauntered over and tickled Fi's bare feet. She smiled at him. That never got old.

"Well we know why they're here—wondering what we have to do with it," Blade drawled from the screen. Elsa, and James had joined in as the three were hunting vamps in Romania (how the fuck had his life gotten to this point?); Shiro was on another screen, back in Japan for his second semester at Tokyo University.

"You can't fool me, Blade—you giant marshmallow. Sofia misses you."

Blade grunted but his scowl became less pronounced. "Out with it."

"Right, let's get to the point. Direct your attention, here, folks." Tony gestured and JARVIS pulled up a holo-screen. "On the left you have a scan of a healthy brain of a child at around Sofia's age, courtesy of Steph. I didn't ask how he got it but let's assume it didn't break any federal laws."

"Never," Stephen intoned.

"After a routine appointment at Fi's therapist we had MG run a test real quick. On the same machines I donated, matter of fact! It was so romantic. I still think about that night."

"Only that night?" Stephen asked with a smirk.

"Well, it certainly didn't have the magic of the next night we met-"

"Minors are present!" Zoe yelped.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Fine, fine. Anyway, this is a scan of Sofia's…er, brain." Another holo-screen came to life.

The others expressed various exclamations of shock. It wasn't nearly as bad as the poor tech who nearly had a stroke at the sight, but it did come close. The mass in Sofia's head couldn't be called a brain in even the loosest sense. It resembled an amoeba, more than anything. Various clusters of…something moved about with neither rhyme nor reason; not even Stephen could decipher their purpose.

"Yeah, so, there's that. And this is a reading from an EEG, a device that measures the electrical impulses within a brain. Different activities emit differing frequencies. This is one of a healthy brain of a developing child. And thi~s is…um, Sofia's."

"Uh…should it be doing that?" James asked.

"To be frank, I have never seen anything remotely like this." Stephen crossed his arms as he watched the frequencies dance across the screen. "Frequencies typically measure from Delta, the lowest which occurs in deep sleep and when dealing with the unconscious mind, to Theta, associated with creativity and daydreaming, meditation, and is reflective of the limbic system and hippocampal-"

"Babe, you know I love it when you get all nerdy but skip to the good stuff. You're losing your audience," Tony interrupted.

"No, no! I…er…absolutely understood that," Shiro said.

"Excuse you, don't flirt with my wife in front of me, young man." Tony ignored the other's stuttering. "Babe?"

"Fine, okay. Theta is prominent in infants up until approximately 12 months, and the brain shifts into other frequencies as it develops. Past the early teens, we usually shift between Alpha and Beta, relaxation and focused activity, throughout the day."

"Not for nothing, but hers seem to be…high?" Elsa asked.

"Sofia averages well above 30 Hz…Gamma range. To put it in perspective at around 40 Hz is necessary for efficient memory and integrated thinking. As I have eidetic memory, mine operates in this state at a very high rate. Tony's brain, admittedly, does go off the charts-"

"I love being God's favorite," Tony said, high-fiving Sofia.

"But Sofia's…well, she rarely drops below Gamma, which is unheard of."

"But she's not human…correct? Surely that makes a difference," Elsa said.

"Of course. Still. Sentient beings do have certain things in common. As we have seen when visiting the Nightmare realm, humans don't have a monopoly on dreams. All sentient life moves through these frequencies—these waves. They wouldn't be able to function otherwise. She sleeps, obviously, but I'm not certain she dreams in the same way we consider dreaming."

"…What do you know about these…symbiotes, Doc?" Asked Blade.

"From the brief time Sofia and I were linked, I did not get much. She was in bad shape, and I was desperate. But thinking back there was…something. Something vast. I believe that the reason we have no issue in understanding her is not only because she is highly expressive…and a very good artist-" Sofia beamed at Stephen. "-but she is emitting waves from her mind."

"Telepathy," Zoe breathed.

"Not in the sense that we would think of it, but yeah. She's sending out signals and we're picking up on them unconsciously. Fi's been talking to us the entire time," Tony explained.

"Oh goodness! I hope we haven't made you feel left out, Fi," said Jackie. Sofia shook her head and blew her a kiss.

"You've got something else in mind," James said then. "You wouldn't have called us together just for this…not that we're not happy to see you, Sofia."

Sofia turned up her nose at him and James winced.

"She'll warm up to you eventually, Jamie. Maybe. Someday. But you're right. We've been looking over your reports and taking your observations under advisement. Thanks for sending them in a timely manner, bee-tee-dubs," Tony said.

James shrugged. "No different than the army. What of it?"

"Sofia's clearly operating in the 5D or however that New Age shit goes. So we've been thinking-"

"-that if she's been sending out signals, then she must be receiving something in return," Stephen finished.

Silence so deep you can hear a pin drop followed. Elsa nodded.

"I see," she murmured. "Our little one is picking up something like a radio. And I've never seen such strange behavior from the things we've been hunting. Sometimes they act as if they're in pain."

"I have also noticed increased activity. Due to the population density, a lot of things are drawn to Tokyo, but the Yokai have learned to stay out of the way. However, they've been getting…violent," Shiro added.

"Need any help over there, lad?"

"Thank you very much, Miss Bloodstone, but I have it in hand. They burn quickly and leave no trace. But I am getting attention—there are a great many cameras about."

Tony winced. "Yeah. After New York everybody is on high alert. I don't think the timeline I put together is going to hold up much longer. We may have to expedite some things, especially if my hunch is right."

"What do you think, Mr. Tony?" Zoe asked.

"I'm thinking something is stirring and it's affecting things that are sensitive to its call. And it's strong enough to stretch across the planet. Sofia keeps drawing corpses and I don't think those are imaginary. So here's what we're going to do. You three are going to have to cut your vacation short and head to the coordinates of the location I'm sending you…now. A Hydra base is located there and I want their info. If you can do it covertly, great. If you can't—well, keep the casualties to a minimum."

"Didn't you blow up a base?" Elsa drawled.

"And I would fucking do it again; but, do as I say, not as I do. Ugh, I sounded like Howard. Anyway! That disc I gave you all will be able to transmit the data—just set it up and let it do its job. Shiro, keep up the great work, bud. Keep sending the video to that private server we set up and make a note of locations. Hopefully we can get a pattern. But your school work does come first-"

"Mr. Stark-!" Shiro protested.

"Ah ah, no. School first. Your mother would beat me up and I'm much too pretty for that. Steph, how goes the hunt?"

"Terribly. Another person was found with my name on it. I've been able to have the bodies sent to MG regardless of location, but someone's going to notice something."

"Shit, you're right. Zoe, lend him a hand. Steph, I can shift some work to Betty and Pep for the time being. I don't know if this is all connected or if we're really fucking unlucky considering the timing."

"Leaning towards the latter, but very well. I'm getting tired of this game, myself."

"Sexy. Love that energy. Jackie, keep working with Sofia. You got the most important job—she knows something she might not even realize she knows and we need more info. Anything you can decipher pass it on."

"Of course, Mr. Stark," Jackie said with a sharp nod.

"Team, our current objective is the destruction of SHIELDRA and the WSC. I had hoped we'd have a couple of years to build up a case but I have a hunch that whatever this is won't let us wait that long."

"D'you think HYDRA's the cause of all this?" James asked.

"No, believe it or not."

"Then should we ask for help from SHIELD? I know you don't like them, and I don't care much for them either, but your Dad and Peg...they could be helpful."

"You know as well as I there is no SHIELD without HYDRA. The moment SHIELD knows so does its parasite. And anything that is capable of riling up supernatural beings is not something I want HYDRA to get a hold of." He received some nods in return. James shrugged easily-he'd no doubt felt the same but had to ask. Indeed, Tony himself wasn't that thrilled at having his hand forced. He had planned for having a great deal more resources and political sway backing him; but, well, if wishes were horses he'd have gotten that pony he'd wanted when he was five. He continued. "We cannot let whatever this is fall into their hands. If even one person slips through our hands it can mean trouble down the line. The only way to ensure success is total annihilation."

"Ooh, you're talking my language, Stark," Elsa laughed.

"Jamie, if you don't hop on that you are a total fool. And I do mean hop on." Elsa hooted while James choked in mortification. "Now! Let's do what we do best: create total chaos." Tony clapped his hands together.

Although Stephen knew, objectively, that his husband was Kardashian famous, he was still surprised by the size of the crowd gathered at the inauguration of Stark Tower. It was a long time in the making with both Stephen's and Tony's efforts. The lower floors were dedicated for public use—students in the New York City public school system were granted exclusive privileges to the computers and resources. Tony's idea. Stephen had been the one to wrangle the mayor and the city planners into adding bus routes and two stops nearby so the kids further away could access it more easily. Those with school IDs could ride for free, of course. The middle floors were dedicated to Stark Industries' revamped Research and Development department. Stephen hadn't been thrilled that Tony would be literally above his job, but even he knew when to throw in the towel—and he fought Dormammu.

Tony was right in his element, in a tailored slate grey suit and oozing so much charm it was as if it was his own sort of magic. Stephen had become used to operating more covertly, but he could suck it up and smile for the cameras and ensure Sofia didn't rip her dress off. She was also eyeing one annoying paparazzi rather suspiciously (he would stop her if she lost her patience, of course…well, eventually). The reporters from approved outlets were positioned at the front of the stage. Barricades and police officers kept back the general public. He spotted a large number of StarkPhones up and filming.

At Pepper's nod, Tony raised his hand and approached the microphone.

"Well, fancy seeing you all here! It is with great honor that I stand before you today to announce the grand opening of Stark Tower! With this building, at the heart of America's number one city-" Tony paused to allow the crowd to cheer and hoot at that, "-it is my hope, our hope, that it becomes a symbol of Tomorrow. A symbol of what we, all of us, can achieve! This baby is completely off the grid, powered exclusively by my father's patented ARC technology; a clean, energy rich future is within our grasp, folks. While Stark Industries' factories have made use of it, this is the first time we are testing it on a more commercial and residential front. Give us two years to make sure everything is up to snuff and high-quality, and I will personally lobby for this technology to be shared across the country! Not just in our cities, but in our rural communities, which even today suffer from a lack of connectivity and access. No longer."

The crowed cheered. Tony had to wait for several seconds before he could speak once more.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like that. And I see a lot of you are in possession of our newest phone. You all have very good taste—and attractive to boot! For those still on iPhones and Androids…it's okay, I'm not upset. We all like what we like. But for future reference you could be getting this face in high def with with my tech, just saying. Now don't let me keep you waiting. Stark Tower, while very cool and very shiny, is not the only reason I have called you all here today. We are opening the floor for questions."

An intern selected a reporter from the front row, first. The man nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. What brought this change about? In the past, you were very vocal about your move to California."

Tony grimaced. "Hoo boy, I remember that little outburst. And here I am again. I guess I gotta eat crow on that one. But to be honest, it was love." To Stephen's embarrassment many in the crowd aww'd at that. Mostly women, for some reason. Tony beamed and said, "It was passion. A desire to be close to my beloved husband. His work as Metro-General's leading surgeon requires him to stay here—I couldn't take the distance any longer! As a matter of fact my best days are when we are connected-"

"Okay that's enough! Thank you for your question," Stephen interrupted, flustered by the laughter and cat-calling. Tony winked at him.

"Sorry, folks. This is a G-rated conference for the youth. Who's next—ooh, is that Ms. Everhart? Come forward. You always ask the best questions; I loved it when you accused me of abdicating my responsibilities."

"I report only the truth Mr. Stark," Christine rejoined.

"That was a compliment. I actually agreed with you. So, lay it on me—but not too rough, I'm married."

Christine rolled her eyes but her voice was crisp with professionalism. "Mr. Stark, I know I'm not the only one who was surprised by your company's decision to pivot from weapons' development, and even more surprised that you doubled down on it when you returned. Now my sources in Washington have told me that not only is Stark Industries no longer in the weapons business, they are also no longer in good standing with the government at all." Murmurs broke through the reporters, some with shock on their faces as they hurriedly scribbled in their notepads. "Rumors state that your remaining outstanding contracts will soon come to an end—if this is the case, your company would be in great jeopardy. Is this new initiative of yours related to that? Do you have any comments?"

This…wasn't ideal. They had planned for it, of course, but they hoped they would have more control over the news. Pepper had reared up with indignation—it was a good thing she couldn't maim with her gaze alone. Tony cocked his head to the side, then removed his sunglasses. He carefully tucked them into his breast pocket.

"Ms. Everhart, you continue to impress. Indeed. Stark Industries is no longer is partnership with the American Government and her Armed Forces. It was a mutual decision and we wish them nothing but the best."

Clamor broke out.

"So it is true. Mr. Stark, a follow-up. SI's primary source of income lay in the multitude of government contracts. If they have fallen through, then-"

"I and my accountants are quite aware, thank you. I'll lose billions…starting about now, since this is going to hit the markets shortly. Thanks for that."

"You're quite welcome."

"Again, don't take it the wrong way. Thank you for that." Now Christine, and several of her colleagues, looked surprised. "This may shock you but I do crack open a paper or magazine once in a while. I've seen your name often—always taking me to task, always pushing for accountability despite the risk to your profession. And to be clear, Ms. Everhart was one hundred and ten percent right to do so. Now, I did not sell those weapons under the table—but I was irresponsible. I am the CEO and head of a large organization. It is my job, no, it is my duty to lead with care and merit, especially because our product is life-threateningly dangerous. And I wasn't doing that. I was dropping the ball left, right, center. I own that. I am currently in talks with the impacted governments on the best way to move forward and make them whole again. It'll take time, years, but I am doing so.

So, yeah. Things'll be tight for a while. Because of that, beginning from the next fiscal year I will not be taking a salary from SI for the foreseeable future."

The crowd exploded. Stephen had to bite his inner cheek. He and Pepper glanced at each other. This not in the original speech—nor their plans. Tony had to hold up his hand to regain control of the crowd.

"My employees—the good ones, the ones who come in, do their work with excellence, and go home to their families do not deserve to be negatively impacted by the decisions from those up top. They do not deserve to be laid off for doing the right thing. SI would not be where it is without them. My ideas, my inventions, mean nothing if there was no way to put them out into the world. I serve them—and I do it gladly.

You know…I've been asked about Afghanistan. About my time there. And I didn't give a straight answer because it's incredibly traumatic. But I think I can say something now. When I was in that cave, all I could think about was…is this how I'm going to go out? Will raining death from the skies be my legacy? What have I actually contributed to society? Truly? Honestly? My genius was being used to reduce things to rubble—was that all it was good for? Do you have any idea how it feels to realize that? To not even know if you'll even survive to see the next minute and all you've done with your life was cause hurt?"

Now the crowd, and even Stephen, was watching him in silence…a bit of awe.

"I didn't even treat my friends all that well. I forgot birthdays, had to be mopped up off the floor after drinking myself stupid, left them waiting for hours after promising I would be there. It should not have taken me getting married to clean up my act. I'm so thankful Steph took a chance on me and I always will. But the thought of never doing good, never seeing him nor my loved ones ever again—it gutted me. I was saved by a doctor, another prisoner. His whole family was gone. I…honestly don't know if Stark weapons were part of the cause. Luckily, he is a great man so he didn't off me when he had the chance. When I returned by the grace of some higher power I made a promise. Even if it took the rest of my days I was going to do better. Be better."

He took a deep breath. Silence still remained throughout the gathering, punctuated by the familiar sounds of honking horns and shrill sirens and the rumbling of construction. "So, it is with great honor that I am announcing a rebirth! My father, may his soul rest wherever it ended up—let's assume someplace nice-" A smattering of laughter. "-had a vision. Even before all the money and long hours spent in the office, he was an innovator at heart. A visionary. He was at his happiest hunkered down in his labs or up to his elbows in grease. And as time wore on, he realized the privileges he had. He was fortunate to be able to work his way out of poverty, but there are many bright minds who never have the chance to shine. To never have the tools they need to grow and thrive and prosper. And that's not…that should not be how the world works.

I believe that education is a human right. No matter where you come from, you have the right to follow your passions and dreams and it is in that that we all benefit. At the end of the day we are all interconnected. Not just New York. Not just the East and West Coast—not just America. Either we all prosper…or we all fail."  

Tony continued, "What happened in Harlem was…horrific. And it could have been worse. It could have hopped across to New Jersey—tore its way down south. Those invisible, arbitrary lines would have meant nothing, then. The thing now called Abomination would have trampled happily all over them. We have to reframe our way of thinking. Hold out our hands across those same borders. So in that spirit, now, no longer will Stark Industries be the go-to for harming others! Just as I escaped from captivity in the desert a new man, so, too, will Stark Industries move forward in the fields of medical technology! In research! In education! And, of course, renewable energy! So will we move forward in advancements in Aviation, and turning our gaze skyward to the next frontier! With that, we will put the name 'Stark Industries' to rest, and be born anew as Stark Innovations!"

Even for New York, the cheers were deafening. It took a good five minutes for the crowd to come into some semblance of order. During that time, Stephen leaned to whisper into Tony's ear.

"You seem to have a penchant for surprises, Mr. Stark."

"Babe, I'm only getting started," came the cheerful response.

"Oh, I believe you." Stephen had to grasp Sofia's hand before she bounced right off the stage, spurred by the high energy. "But space?"

"I did promise to take you to the stars, didn't I?"

This asshole. Stephen laughed.

"So," Tony began again, once he was able, "I hope to have your support as we move ahead and discover just what humanity is capable of. I'll probably, definitely, mess up a time or ten, but if you can bear with me, I just know we'll create a city, a state, a country, a world we can be proud of. In light of this new era in the company's history, I am also bringing back my father's pride and joy: The Stark Expo! We will be inviting the brightest minds from around the world to showcase what they have! And I know I will be stunned by the talent and genius. Keep an eye out for future announcements where we will go into greater detail regarding the application process, timeframe, and events.

I am so thankful for this opportunity. I believe, truly, I should not have made it back—but I did. And I will not let that go to waste. So to all of you watching, know that I look forward to serving you all—my best is yet to come."

Chapter Text

Stephen had met the Chief Medical Officer exactly once in his career, previous lifetime and this one. It was during the time he had yet to cut open a single patient, green in every possible way but still arrogant despite it all. Yet, not even he dared put one toe out of line as she smiled at him like a doting grandmother. And while his latent senses had only come awakened with contact with the Ancient One, and had grown stronger with subsequent practice and study; before that, he had had a strong intuition—and it knew not to get on her bad side…superior not withstanding.

He respected Dr. Brown greatly, of course. The first Black woman to serve as surgeon in the nation, and certainly the first to climb her way up the ladder to the Board of a large research hospital. A Board which was still heavily male; and, well…white. He had no reason to be anxious but he still felt nerves prick his stomach as he knocked on the thick door. There was really only one reason she would call them both here. Tony looked at ease in comparison, slurping down a disgraceful concoction of sugar, milk, and a hint of coffee. Stephen reminded himself to have JARVIS start feeding the man chlorophyll again—not out of necessity, thank goodness, but out of sheer spite. Tony liked that in a man.

"Dr. Brown? It's Dr. Strange and Dr. Stark," Stephen called after knocking.

"Ooh, when you say my name like that I get all sorts of ideas," Tony said.

"I do as well. But I have a feeling our sentiments differ."

"Babe, please. That only makes me more excited."

Before Stephen could retort Dr. Brown herself opened the door. She looked amused as if she had heard every word said (God, Stephen hoped not) and motioned them inside.

"Welcome back to our hospital, Dr. Stark. As you may know I am Dr. Dorothy Brown and serve as Chief Medical Officer. I'm in charge of the Directors in our various departments. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I know the two of you are busy," she said. Her silver hair was pinned in an elegant bun and square glasses, as red as Cloak, were perched on her nose.

"I always have time for beautiful women," Tony greeted, bending over her hand.

Dr. Brown laughed. "Hush, you. I can't believe that nonsense worked on our Dr. Strange."

"He did require a different touch-"

"Let's move on from that," Stephen interrupted much to Dr. Brown's amusement. As he crossed the threshold he felt a strong spark flare against his senses. He froze, and glanced back at the doorway. Dr. Brown smiled at him while Tony's eyes sharpened and glanced between them.

"I see—you've got a bit of heft to you, Dr. Strange." Dr. Brown motioned to the chairs across from her desk as she circled around to take her own seat.

"Perhaps, Dr. Brown. But I could certainly learn much from you."

"You could—but you won't. No offense, but my tradition calls for strict selection."

"Of course."

Tony finished his drink with an obnoxious slurp. "So, what did I miss?"

"Dr. Brown has placed several strong protections around her office. Strong enough for me to notice," Stephen explained.

"Nothing so fancy as what you can do. Just a bit of oil—some herbs."

Stephen scoffed. "That may be, but it won't make a difference when blood starts dripping from my eyes and ears."

"Oh. Ew. That's not going to happen, is it? I have an image to maintain and an aversion to bleeding from my orifices," Tony said.

"Not at all. And I also know you and the Baron had a bit of a scuffle," Dr. Brown continued.

"I'm not apologizing," Stephen said.

"He rarely apologizes, even when he's wrong," Tony interrupted.

"That's not true. And I'm never wrong."

"Oh that's certainly false."

Dr. Brown shrugged and said, "The Baron is a force of his own—he was amused, mostly. But that's not why I asked you to come. It's about your alter ego. Loved the outfit, by the way."

"So did I. It's a good thing I was distracted with the whole mayhem and destruction thing, because I was certainly inspired."

Stephen rolled his eyes but declined to comment. That way lay madness. On top of that, the last thing he needed was to get riled up in front of his boss's boss. "I'm pretty certain you didn't call us in here for that."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Than her smile lessoned by a degree. "I wasn't sure how to approach you at first, but judging from what happened in Harlem, perhaps it is time. I would like to thank you personally for what you have done for us during that nasty vampire business."

"I'm sure you would have handled it much better," Stephen demurred.

"Oh, I'm a bit too old for that now, sugar. When I was your age, I did get in my share of fights, but I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice."

"Thirty-three is hardly old, Doctor," Tony said.

"My! You've got a charmer there, Stephen! Now, in light of recent events I wished to discuss how you plan to proceed? You have enough on your plate with your surgeries, clinical hours, and work at Stark Industries…well, Innovations. You have to sleep sometime."

"I'd make a joke about sleeping when we're dead but that's a bit too on the nose for us." Tony picked up the briefcase he was set down and unclasped it. "But I thought now would be a good time to come to you for a proposal."

Dr. Brown didn't get to where she was by being slow on the uptake. She placed her chin on her clasped hands with a hum. "We're quite pleased with the Financial Assistance Program your Foundation has set up; I wish to thank you for that. I grew up in a family where insurance was a luxury that bled you dry and I'm glad we can do more for our community. So, I do admit I'm interested in what you have to say. I'm going to assume it's something to do with your husband?"

"You assumed right. Now that the secret's out amongst a number of staff, there are two things I wish to cover. The first being an NDA that they should probably sign for their own protection. The federal government is very interested in what we're capable of and to be frank I don't trust them further than I could pick up the Pentagon and throw it. The NDA would show a good faith attempt at protecting classified information—and this information has now been formally classified."

"I see. I thank you for looking out for our interests. I'll have our own lawyers look it over and disburse it appropriately. The next point?"

"I'd like to sponsor the construction of a wing."

"Is this another declaration of love, Dr. Stark?" Dr. Brown said, gaze turning coy.

"…Oh my god I have dropped the ball it would be perfect-"

"Tony, no," Stephen sighed. He found himself saying that a lot. Was this how Wong felt? Perhaps he should apologize.

"This won't be just any wing, but a Strange Ward. Is this what they call synchronicity, Steph? This is chef's kiss perfection."

"I am divorcing you and taking all your money-"

"I lost a lot of my money, if you recall."

"Then you really only have one use left-"

"Babe, don't act like I'm upset at that. I am always down to-"

"Gentlemen, this is a meeting if you recall," Dr. Brown drawled. Stephen cleared his throat and they settled back into their seats like scolded school children. Satisfied they were finished, Dr. Brown held out her hand for the file of papers. "A new wing, you say?"

"For our…special population."

"Ah…"

"Look, Dr. Brown. I read up on you and your career is straight up spectacular. Your surgical techniques on the pulmonary systems are still being taught, and from what I've just heard, you are well versed in the things that most people are unaware of."

She nodded. "I am indeed."

"And to be frank, with a city like New York, which is apparently on something called a ley line that I kinda tuned out when Steph was explaining it-"

"I knew it," Stephen huffed.

"We need somewhere where the victims of supernatural attacks, or even the supernatural themselves, can heal in safety. I'd bet the rest of my fortune that there are people out there who've come across the things that go bump in the night and have no one to turn to or anywhere to go. Steph's cult-"

"It's not a—fine, whatever, it's a cult."

"I win. I love being me. But anyway, they're a secretive bunch at best. Steph and I…we just want to help people. Not for any reward or anything, but because we can. It's not like I can take all this material shit with me when I go."

"Indeed. We come into the world with nothing, and so we shall leave," Dr. Brown murmured. Her fingers flipped through the pages in quick succession.

"Take your time and look it over. We—Steph and I—want to be involved with MG one hundred percent. I'm not going to steal him away from you…yet. And we gotta be honest, the supernatural isn't going anywhere."

"This wouldn't be why all those suspicious corpses keep popping up in my morgue, is it?" Asked Dr. Brown, eyes flickering to Stephen's.

"Yes, that is my fault. Someone is trying to get my attention and they are…angry." That was quite the understatement yet he had nothing more to say. The damage was steadily growing more brutal—as if what control they had was depleting.

"Let me know when the next one comes in. I want to take a look. I have my own ways of ferreting out information. Maybe you'll learn something after all." She smiled and snapped the file shut.

Stephen chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. His stomach had finally settled. "No wonder Dr. Fuller likes you."

"Ooh! Don't hold back on me, this sounds like gossip!" Tony leaned forward.

"Douglass is so precious. He gets all flustered when I'm around. I do so enjoy teasing the man," Dr. Brown cooed.

"It would seem I have more to learn from you than magic, Doctor," Stephen said with a smirk.

Tony gasped. "You are truly, truly shameless! Well don't stop on my account—make sure you put him through the advanced course, Doctor. Life is short and I mean to enjoy myself."

Dr. Brown's laugh was as warm and thick as good peach cobbler.

She was still smiling when the door shut behind him. Tony held up his newly healed arm for him to take.

"I do so love when a plan comes together," he said as they strolled down the hall.

"You sound sure she'll agree," Stephen observed.

"Babe, I'm certain she will. She sees the utility in it. I got a gut feeling there's only so much time we have until the lid flies off on all of this. Hulk and Abomination will only be the start. Shiro's exploits are already being reported on NHK and TV Asahi. This will inspire others—for good, and for ill."

"Agreed. And I admit the additional help will be a relief. We've had to handle our own injuries and sometimes…well, it wasn't enough."

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I prefer being proactive. Speaking of-"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"I don't need to."

They smiled at each other. The moment, however, was broken my a clearing of a throat from up ahead. The source was a woman wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with her hands jammed in its pockets. Despite the casual clothing her belt held a badge that gleamed in the fluorescent lighting.

"Sorry for interrupting. My name is Detective Knight with the 6th Precinct. I have some questions I'd like to ask you, Dr. Stark…the medical one."

Well, shit.

They really should have planned for this, too. Before Stephen could utter a syllable Tony's smile went from gentle to all but baring his canines. If Stephen hadn't known the man he would have taken him for dangerous at that moment. The detective barely blinked to her credit.

"That'll be a no, Detective," Tony said, smile still fixed on his lips.

"No?" Detective Knight parried.

"Unless he's being detained. Is he?"

Her brown eyes seemed to stare right through Stephen's own. "Of course not."

"Then he has nothing to say."

"I don't suppose I'll hear the answer from him, himself?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're excessively protective, Mr. Stark."

"How observant. I can see why you were made detective. I'd hate for that to be put in jeopardy." The threat fell heavy between them like a lead weight. Her face remained blank.

"Is there a reason you believe he might be detained?" She asked instead, tone friendly.

"My husband is as innocent as a day old baby—in certain aspects. In others you'll find that that's none of your business. We'll be on our way."

"I'm just curious about a pattern I've noticed," Detective Knight said as they passed. "It's odd—a surgeon of Dr. Stark's calibre being in charge of bodies coming through the morgue."

Tony didn't pause. "My lawyers have been real bored lately, Detective. Don't be the reason that they have something to do."

Stephen only spoke when they exited through the lobby and were met with winter air. The weeks had sped by so fast he could barely keep up, irony of ironies.

"That was unnecessary," Stephen sighed.

"Sorry, Babe, I get testy when it comes to you. It's the passion in me."

"Far be it from me from stoking those fires, but Detective Knight doesn't seem to be the sort to drop this. If she was smart enough to make that connection-"

"Yeah, this isn't optimal. But what or whoever is killing these people won't give a shit about her badge if she winds up on the wrong side of it."

"Yes. It looks like I'll be going out, tomorrow night."

"Ooh, you should wear your black bodysuit."

"I'll wear it when I'm good and ready, Mr. Stark."

Justin Hammer had a big fucking problem and no solutions. The family of the poor bastard who volunteered to pilot their experimental suit was all but banging down his door. They had no case on the criminal front, his lawyers had assured, but they would be in trouble if they found a sympathetic judge to look at their civil suit. Best to settle on that.

That fact that Stark's husband would be the one to put the test pilot's spine back together made it all the more galling—free of charge, the asshole. Stark must have laughed himself sick.

Justin paced across his office, glass of whiskey clutched in one hand. Some of it sloshed onto the carpet but he didn't mind—let the cleaning staff handle it. When Hammer Industries had been gifted the prized government contracts to outfit America's military, stocks had doubled practically overnight. Media outlets were clamoring for his thoughts and finally recognized his own brand of genius. It had been a chance to finally get back at Stark. Not that that it was all that satisfying. His little speech had quickly taken over every broadcast for days and once more Justin found himself drowned out in the speculation and excitement for the rebirth of The Stark Expo. Fucking. Infuriating.

Smarmy asshole—always had been; ever since M.I.T he had been a thorn in Justin's side. Every accomplishment Justin had made (and they weren't small ones, either!) had been overshadowed by some asshole fourteen year old with acne. The most galling of it was that Stark didn't even remember their acquaintance. He'd been too busy partying at sorority houses, the fucker. Not surprising. Stark had had everything handed to him since birth. The Hammer family hadn't been poor, far from it. But as the years passed the Stark fortune had exploded. Justin had had to work for what he had. He built Hammer Industries into what it was today with his hands and blood and sweat. Nothing was prepped and passed down to him, after all.

He tossed back the whiskey and slammed the glass onto his desk. He was a smart man. He figured after examining the footage and seeing the suit in action it would be cake to replicate—turns out it wouldn't be that simple. His engineers thought they would solve one problem only for ten more to appear. Too heavy to lift, armor too rigid, flight speeds that could be overtaken by an arthritic granny. It wasn't right. No amount of hard work and banging his head against the wall could close the gap. Stark never deserved any of it! Shit!

"Mr. Hammer?" His secretary knocked on his door, eyeing his disheveled appearance with unease. Justin took a deep breath and made an effort to smooth down his suit and straighten his tie.

"Yes, Ms. Kerns?"

"You have a visitor. He…claims he has the answers to your problems? I'm unsure of what he means, but he said to tell you it was about a…suit? Perhaps a tailor?"

Justin never put much stock in coincidence, but this he had to see. The initiative to replicate Stark's suit, codenamed Ultron, was heavily confidential.

Curious, he nodded and said, "Let him in and we'll see what he has to say. But put security on alert, just in case."

"Yes, sir."

Justin drained the rest of the liquor as he waited. When his secretary ushered a man in, Justin took in his clean-shaven face and stocky build. He moved with some discomfit despite the expense and skillful tailoring of his suit. Justin knew his type—former blue collar who came into money. They could put on the clothes and put on the same airs but it was always easy to tell. New money…ugh. The Starks were a good example of that, saved only by the influence of the Carbonells, so they didn't commit too many faux-pas.

Still, manners must be observed. "Well, well, it's always nice to see a new face! Have a seat, Mister…?"

"Vanko. Ivan Vanko." He sat and the suit bunched awkwardly. Justin barely managed to mask his grimace at the sight. Such a waste.

"Mr. Vanko. I'm not familiar with the name, but you've got my attention about some knowledge you seem to have? What can I do for you?"

"It is not what you can do for me, but I can do for you."

Good Lord, that accent. How had his life come to this? "What you can do for me?" Justin corrected—politely, he thought. 

Ivan nodded, "My father worked closely with Howard Stark. You are aware of them, yes?"

Justin grit his teeth. It took all he had to turn it into a smile. "Yes, yes. Tony and I are in the same business! Well, we were."

"Then you must also be aware of some technology he has showcased recently, yes? My father knows it quite well." Vanko took a sheath of old papers from his breast. "The Starks have benefitted from Vanko knowledge—I find I wish to return the favor. And to do that, I believe we might be able to have…what is the word…understanding?"

Justin straightened. His mind raced. A part of him was wary, but the American government would be put off for only so long. If he didn't produce results, it would be his stocks cratering next. Justin licked his lips, then smiled.

"Let me clear my schedule so we can have an uninterrupted chat."

Vanko smiled in return with cracked teeth.

Sofia woke with pounding heart. The dreams were happening more often. But Sofia still didn't know what was happening. She saw more this time, though. Saw many warriors, human warriors in metal. It reminded Sofia of Father, only his armor was much better and shinier. This time, though, the dream was very bad. Sofia was big, even bigger than Father and Mother. She was smashing and tearing into humans and their armor ripped like the paper Sofia drew on. Big claws and big teeth like Sofia used to have before Mother birthed her. Sofia didn't like it—she liked her host.

The humans kept dying; Sofia felt sad. So sad. Sofia wanted to help but it was a dream so she couldn't. Sofia huffed and patted her comforter. Sleeping in Father's big, new tower was nice, but Sofia preferred her room in Mother's den. She and Ji and ZZ slept together and it made Sofia feel better. Ji and ZZ were still close but it wasn't the same.

"Sweet child. My child." The shadows whispered, too, sometimes. Often when Sofia was alone—only at night. Sofia hated that because Sofia was Mother's. Sofia had a Mother.

"Do you really think they understand you, child? They never can. Come to me, child. Come home to Mother."

Sofia whined and shook her head. She pressed her hands against her ears but that made no difference. She heard it from deep inside—deep in the cracks and crevices where her siblings used to live. That had been fine before. Sofia had never been lonely—loneliness was impossible when there were thousands of them crawling and connecting together in service of the Maker. Now Sofia liked only having a few deep connections and being able to be alone. Sometimes Sofia liked being alone. But not now. Not when the Fake Mother kept whispering.

Sofia clambered from her bed. Cloak perked up and fluttered about her, questioning. Sofia crooned and went to her window. The shiny lights below distracted her for a moment before she turned her attention east. The pull was growing stronger everyday. Sofia didn't want to worry Mother, so she tried to pretend. But pretending was getting harder. Sofia had to protect Mother this time. She couldn't before when Metal Arm and Nightmare hurt him; this time, Sofia was going to do it.

But the dark was scary tonight.

Sofia opened her door and pattered down the hall. Father had shown her earlier—nice and close because Sofia felt safe between them. She just hoped they weren't mating again. That was annoying. But then, Sofia did want another sibling, so maybe it would be okay. Not tonight, though. Sofia tapped on the door like she was taught and then reached up to turn the knob. It was still. Oh good, it was fine. Cloak floated in after her as she went to Mother's side. Father was growly and had trouble opening his eyes at night, but Mother always woke up quickly. That was the case tonight, too. Mother reached out a hand and smoothed their hair.

"Another bad dream, darling?"

Sofia nodded and pulled herself onto the mattress and over Mother's body. Father also liked to sprawl, so Sofia had to squirm under his arm. Their scents mixed together pleasantly.

"'Zat you, Fi?" Father mumbled, eyes still closed and hair wild. Sofia patted his arm in response.

"You'll never be like them, child. No matter how much you wish it were so." The voice whispered, laughed, as Sofia buried her face into a pillow and tried to stop listening.

Chapter Text

Blade was never one to ask for much from life—preferred things nice and simple. He would, however, be the first to admit that having someone at your six wasn't all that bad. He'd even missed it in the past couple of decades fighting the good fight with nothing more than his weapons, strength, and wits. The monster hunting community was, at best, a bunch of outcasts and ne'er-do-wells who didn't fit in with normal folk. So they found themselves neck deep in blood for lack of much else. Only a handful could honestly say it was for altruistic purposes—even he didn't use to count himself in their number. Finding his mother's killer was more important. Still was.

None of that explained how he found himself at the heart of Neo-Nazi territory, bullets flying, with Elsa cackling from the adrenaline. How the hell did he get himself wrapped up in Stark's nonsense?

"Is it finished??" James called as he poked his head above cover to fire off two more shots. Two more bodies fell to the floor in the distance.

"There are terabytes of data to analyze, Sergeant Barnes. It will take approximately fifty more seconds," Jarvis reported. If Blade didn't know any better he sounded reproving. Why was his life so fucking weird?

"Take your time, love! I'm enjoying myself!" Elsa threw the remains of a terminal at the guard, forcing the agents to scream and scatter. It landed with a tremendous crash of metal and circuitry and left gouges in the floor.

"Not-so-gentle reminder that these are regular humans so keep the blood shed to a minimum," Blade said. The progress bar finally reached its destination and he unhooked the device from the computer. How Stark expected Elsa of all people to accomplish this clandestinely he didn't fucking know.

"Breaking bones is more satisfying anyway."

For fuck's sake.

"Transfer is complete. Thank you for assistance, Mr. Blade. This installation appears to have been an important hub for an entire network, hence the delay. My sincerest apologies."

"Ain't no thing, J." Blade pocketed the disc and threw a knife in one clean movement, downing a soldier attempting to sneak up on James.

"Oh, good. Saved me a bullet." The man nodded in thanks and finished reloading his rifle.

Jarvis continued, "Sir sends his heartfelt gratitude as well, and has instructed me to inform you he has uploaded a virus onto the HYDRA mainframe."

"Okay, so?" Elsa asked before slamming two struggling men onto the linoleum. They went limp.

"This virus is designed to trigger a series of self destruct sequences across several strongholds located around Europe. He advises you make haste within the next fifteen minutes." Loud alarms filled the air and the lights flashed red.

The three of them stared at each other.

"He is an asshole. And a total hypocrite," Blade sighed.

"Sir agrees with your assessment—with great cheer, I may add. The Doctor sends along his apologies. You now have fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds to evacuate the area. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"How the hell has this become my life?" James huffed as they sprinted their way down the maze of hallways. Blade only grunted in agreement. They had entered through the ventilation systems but at this point they could simply make their way out the front door. Their enhanced speed carried them swiftly along, leaving disorganized and panicking HYDRA personnel in their wake.

Outside was even more chaotic, with many scrambling to climb onto fleeing vehicles—a good portion of them shooting their fellow agents to do it. That surprised Blade little—not that they would get far. They would be met down the way by the Albanian and UN's military forces.

Blade and James both leaned down to lift Elsa up onto the rocky ledge of an outcrop miles away, just in time for the grays of early dawn to be awash in the color of flames and smoke. The boom echoed throughout the forests and along the valley. The nearby town should have been evacuated by this point, but the villagers would no doubt be wondering if it was yet another escalation in decades of violence. They were right on the borders of Sokovia, and the region had known little else even when he was young.

"…So, that was a little dramatic," James commented.

Blade scoffed. "It's Stark."

"Let's go find a pub. Pint's on me, gents." Elsa slapped their backs then leaned into James' space. "You play your cards right, soldier, and that won't be the only thing."

Blade saw James' flush as clear as if it were fully day. And the fact he wasn't moving away either. Figures. Blade rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. He took out his StarkPhone from an inner pocket to shoot off a text. He received the coordinates for their rendezvous point in return.

"If I overhear anything from you two fuckers you're walking back to the States."

"And I just received confirmation, Secretary-General. You should be getting reports in shortly." Tony rocked back and forth in his chair, rapidly spinning his father's old fountain pen between his fingers and thumb. His nervous twitches had taken an odd turn now that he couldn't drink/smoke/snort them away. Stephen once half-threatened to tie him to a chair.

Which reminds him, he should be extra fidgety around his husband in the near future! 

"Thank you, Dr. Stark. I am indeed. The International Court of Justice in Hague has also been notified," came the soft spoken reply.

Tony was lucky Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon was an agreeable man. Not many would have believed Tony despite the stupid amount of evidence of HYDRA, supposedly dead but actually alive and well, infiltrating so many places of power. The UN had not been immune, either—a handful of diplomats, a large number of clerks, workers, and various security officials had to be dealt with quietly. The move to go above, so to speak, the American Secretary of State was ballsy—landing on the UN Secretary-General's balcony to deliver said info was even ballsier. 

Tony hated to admit it, but he was self-aware enough to acknowledge that he'd had a mile-wide streak of insecurity that he hid behind humor, bravado, and now, an alloy of hotrod colored titanium. It hadn't gone away, but he could handle it better. Tony glanced over at his husband, who was reclining on the sofa with his bare feet up. Sofia lay on his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt. She wasn't sleeping well at all, lately. And although it was late in the night for their time zone and he would have nothing to do, Stephen insisted on adding his quiet support. It was strange (ha!) how much confidence Stephen gave him. Tony wasn't sure what about their relationship made it so. …Well, no, he had an idea. Stephen had always had such a firm belief in him…beyond all reason, to be honest. Tony couldn't help but begin to believe it, too. Maybe there was something to him. Maybe he was good enough. And the more time passed the more he believed. Tony Stark could be exceptional.

Tony would have preferred his first acquaintance with the United Nations to not be due to various countries seeking arbitration over illegal SI weapons ripping holes in their infrastructure; he would have really preferred said acquaintance to not be through stone faced judges staring him down at The Hague. But, this was one gift horse he wasn't going to examine too deeply. If not for that, taking advantage of his time in the Netherlands wouldn't have even crossed his mind. Some hacking (that he was going to tell no one about) and snooping later, and that was all he needed for Iron Man to make a visit with a stack of evidence and leave with the Secretary General's personal, heavily encrypted, phone number.

"Great! And the WSC?" Tony continued.

"Have been brought in for questioning. Mr. Pierce attempted to flee but was captured and prevented from committing suicide."

"What, seriously? I thought that only happened in movies."

"I did as well. Americans are so dramatic."

Tony wisely said nothing about that.

"Speaking of dramatic," now the Secretary-General sounded amused, "Gideon Malick has gone off grid. It would seem despite our careful planning there was a…leak, I'm afraid."

"I was worried about that. I didn't think things would go silky smooth, but still."

"Interpol is on the case so worry not, Dr. Stark. Mr. Pierce, however, did make a request."

"A request?"

"He wished to see you."

The pen in Tony's hand came to a stop. Stephen's brow raised—curious and concerned in equal measure. Alexander Pierce should not have known Tony had a hand in it. How very interesting.

"Did he, now?"

"You are under no obligation, of course. Frankly, I would advise against it."

"No, no. The man is about to be tried and convicted at the International Court…let him have his say."

"If you say so. Nevertheless, I thank you for your information and cooperation. We owe you a great debt. With close monitoring, I see no reason not to approve your requests in regards to the use of, and authorization, of the Iron Man technology. Expect, however, for there to be push back from Russia."

"Yeah, I kinda pissed them off with that whole Cold War thing. Let's not talk about it."

Ban Ki-moon scoffed. "You won't have a choice. The General Assembly will meet in a private session to confirm the details moving forward. This is an unprecedented circumstance, you understand. On another note, in regards to the issue of Stark Industries' weapons being used illegally, The Court will also consider your actions when the deadline for written statements approaches."

"Please, don't. All of that should be separate from our little…tête-à-tête. The impacted countries must have their say."

"With so much of HYDRA crippled, they just might. As per our agreement, when Obadiah Stane is located you will be notified."

"Fantastic. I love that for us. Give my best to the wife—mine has been putting me through my paces."

"I'm…not certain I understand? Is Dr. Strange not a man?"

Tony coughed and said, "Don't worry about it. Inside joke, Americanism—you know how it is."

"……I see. Well, I must be off. You've made the next several years of my tenure even busier and I best get a start on that."

"Apologies, Secretary-General. Try not to work too hard." Tony ended the call and stretched with a groan.

"I'm assuming everything went well, Mr. Stark?" Stephen drawled.

"Excuse you. That's Agent Stark, if you don't mind."

Stephen chuckled and closed the novel he was reading—one of The Ancient One's bodice rippers. Fabio smoldered at him from the cover. "You do love your role play."

"Babe, shush. Minors are present." Tony walked over and picked Sofia up from Stephen's chest. "C'mon, Fi-Fi, you should be asleep."

She grunted and clung to him with the strength of North Carolina kudzu. Tony masked a wince and settled on patting her back while making soothing noises. "It's okay—I've been there. If you can't sleep then you can't sleep. I'll stay up with her, Steph. You got clinic hours tomorrow…uh, today, actually."

"Thanks. But more importantly, do you anticipate any problems?"

"Eh, we'll have to see. But this will go a long way in smoothing some ruffled feathers, even though certain countries will be embarrassed as f-er-fudge." The correction was clumsy but his daughter didn't seem to notice. "If Iron Man is gonna operate outside of the US I need to get other States' permission as well as the UN's. Recognizing their sovereignty will go a long way. This may surprise you, but many countries seem to have an issue with an overpowered American violating their borders with flimsy justification. They could kinda let it side before with there being a World War and all, but nowadays it's not a good look."

"Shocking, Mr. Stark," Stephen said. "Director Fury will no doubt have much to say about your operations tonight."

"Ooh, I hope so. I'm discovering a sadistic streak I didn't even know I had. I should probably see that therapist Pepper found for me."

"Is that so? If that doesn't work out, I may be willing to lend my expertise." Stephen then had the audacity to pat his cheek as he left Tony's office.

"How dare you. I am holding our child."

"Have a good night, Mr. Stark."

Obadiah clicked his teeth as yet another number failed to go through. He had tried to tell Malick but it seemed the man had to find out for himself. Obadiah had spent decades carefully grooming Howard's son—it was even better that Howard had made the job so sickeningly easy. Obadiah had almost felt bad at stealing candy from a literal baby, but his bank accounts and multiple assets helped ease his conscience.

With hindsight, Obadiah could point to the exact moment he had lost control and, suddenly, his methods no longer worked. He had thought he'd nixed any potential threat with that Sunset incident; but he could not predict Strange. Damn the man. The moment he waltzed into Tony's orbit it had been over—it was exactly why he spent so much time keeping the goose that laid multiple golden eggs semi-isolated.

Ah, well. Obadiah could care less about HYDRA's crazy aims—he always backed the winning side. HYDRA had won decades ago and not even SHIELD had been the wiser.

Obadiah smiled up at Davis as the young man prattled on and on. That had been easy, too. A backup he was glad to have fostered by playing mentor to the youngest member of SI's Board. It was even easier considering how dumb he was and too arrogant to realize it. When Stark had closed the Weapons Division, Davids all but ran to him. When the loss of government contracts went public (and although Stark's speech did much to ameliorate the damage), Davids was once again crying about earning a bit less money. Oh, he was still raking in millions, but it was less millions, so Stark had to pay for that.

Add in the homophobia and envy? Cakewalk.

"I hear you Ben, I hear you," Obadiah soothed.

"There must be something you can do, Obadiah. I know you're still in hiding, but you said that will be taken care of soon, right?"

"Indeed. I've made some friends in high places and my case is being looked over." Complete and total fabrication. "But in the meantime, my hands are tied, here."

Davids' brows furrowed. "Then why were you so insistent on meeting?"

"To thank you, my dear boy!" Obadiah smiled and stood from his chair. "You've been most helpful. Telling me about the miniature reactor in Stark's chest and other company plans. Malick and I couldn't have got our ducks in a row without you. Now that we've got Vanko working his magic with Hammer, things should be on the up and up."

"O-Oh. Then we should approach Hammer?"

"There is no 'we', son. No 'we'."

Davids' survival instincts must have finally kicked in, but it was too late. Obadiah watched as red crept up his neck and face, turning it near puce. His breaths grew labored. He managed to collapse in a nearby leather chair, while the glass he had been holding fell from twitching fingers. What little liquor remained stained the wood floor.

"Strychnine's a little old-fashioned, but, hey. Can't beat the classics."

While Davids gasped and wheezed his last, Obadiah motioned for the two operatives to begin cleaning the room. He took a letter, carefully copied in the man's handwriting, from his pocket. He arranged it just so beside the trembling and jerking body. "So young, too. But despair can drive even the strongest men to suicide. You'll have one last use for me, Ben. Sleep well, son."

Obadiah's phone rang then. He hummed and answered it with a light tap. "Gideon!…Yes, yes it's done. This should keep Stark busy for the time being. Mm. Mm. …Yeah, well I told you to be more proactive when it comes to him—we'll have to let those installations go. This gives us a chance to go underground—play 'possum. With Vanko taking on Hammer we got a nice in with the US military once again, and this time we won't repeat previous mistakes. …Yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll see you back at the manor and we can compare notes."

Davids went limp.

It took everything in Misty not to slam the door shut behind her to her captain's office. That would not be a good look after the dressing down she had gotten. Tony Stark had been as good as his word and Captain Harris had not enjoyed the pointed comments given to her by her superior. So now Misty found herself reassigned to the 29th in Harlem to "assist" with training the new recruits. It would seem that after the Harlem Terror event a great many officers elected to look for safer work. It wasn't a demotion, but it may as well have been. She stalked to her desk and yanked open the lower drawer to take out her purse. She was dismissed early and that was also not a good sign. Not at all.

Misty had known she was taking a chance confronting Dr. Strange-Stark at work, especially as a rookie detective with no real pull, but after May mentioned his reaction to Peter in an offhand comment over coffee…her temper had gotten the best of her. Misty liked Peter. Saw herself in him—reminded her of when her cousin had gone missing because Misty left her alone, and—

Misty's gut told her that something was there. She had no physical evidence. She barely had circumstantial. And the motive? A mystery. Not to mention the way the attacks had been spread across Queens and Manhattan. It was a lot of ground to cover, even for the lifelong New Yorker who considered a brisk, 45 minute walk something barely worth mentioning. Misty had run Dr. Strange-Stark's license and registration of course, but the man no longer drove. One car had been traded in and the other totaled a while back after swerving to avoid a deer up in the Adirondacks. According to records and he had yet to purchase a third. Then again, when you're married to a billionaire you could afford a chauffeur. It was even worse that the rank and file employee loved the Starks; no one was talking and she wasn't stupid enough to run afoul of lawyers with unlimited budget. The court costs alone would put her under water.

Still, something was just…off about it. Misty's intuition had never let her down, so she must be missing something. Overlooking something. Something right in front of her face. No one greeted her as she left the building. The look on her face discouraged any attempt at small talk or shooting the shit. The only good thing about this mess was at least the 29th was close to her mama's place, even if she couldn't stand the fucks at the precinct for letting her cousin's murderers walk.

Shit, what was she going to tell May and Peter?

Winter had come quickly this year. Her breath fogged and her hands felt a hint of cold even under leather gloves and tucked in her coat. Pedestrians roamed the streets despite the dark and chill and the news of a killer running about. It was New York, after all. One of her colleagues joked she feared nothing after dealing with the daily commute on the subway for a good decade. That was the true terror. But with reassignment Misty may just have a look at a new apartment. She could stay with her Ma for a bit, hang out with the fam while she regrouped and took a step back on this. They may have gotten rid of her for a while, but they should know better by now she never stopped. Would never stop.

She cut across a street and was passing an alley when a choked off cry had the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It could have been nothing. Most would have kept right on walking, convinced it was their imagination.

Misty drew her pistol and entered the dark.

She splashed through a murky puddle and around a rusty dumpster. Soon after she came across two figures in a struggle. The woman's mouth was covered by the taller one—man, probably, given the girth of his shoulders. He was leaning down and trying to tear off her thick, woolen scarf and buttoned coat.

Misty clicked on her flashlight and cocked her gun up at ready.

"Freeze, NYPD! Step back and put your hands up where I can see them!"

The beam of her flashlight caught the shine of black hair and pale skin. The man chuckled and did as he was told. His back was to her as he raised his arms. He didn't say a word yet his stance exuded cockiness. Misty grit her teeth.

The woman sobbed and quickly staggered to where Misty stood. "Oh thank God, thank you! He came out of nowhere. I-I think he was trying to bite my neck-!"

Misty straightened, mind racing. The neck? "I'm gonna make a guess that this isn't your first rodeo."

The man snickered. That was a confession in her book. The black coat hid a lot of him even with the beam of light. But there was something very familiar about his silhouette.

"…Strange?"

Finally a reaction. He jerked in recognition and surprise—Misty saw a glimpse of a profile and blood red eyes. The inhumanness of it made her freeze, and it was enough for the man to take off and climb up the fire escape like a goddamn monkey.

What the fuck??

"Freeze, Strange!" Misty let out two shots, and she was positive they hit but he didn't so much as slow as he disappeared over the side and onto the roof. She couldn't hope to catch him.

Misty and the woman stood in disbelief for several seconds.

"Did that…did that just happen?" The woman breathed.

Misty licked her lips and holstered her gun. "Come back with me to the station so we can make a report. I think we can get him put away fast with your testimony."

"O-Of course! I can't wait to get the bastard."

Indeed.

Bright lights stung his vision. His eyes watered and leaked tears down his temples as they focused. His parched lips smacked fruitlessly in an attempt to regain their moisture. Sounds came next—a familiar, rhythmic beat off to the side that matched the thud of his heart. He knew the sounds—the smells. He knew the lights and the scratchy sheets and bedding. He knew all of it, but had never been on the receiving end. Anyone else would probably feel relief.

Ho Yinsen felt nothing but the deepest despair.

He had been home. He had been warm. His beautiful wife and daughters had touched his hands and welcomed him. Yet there had been a voice. Persistent and unceasing as it called to him to go back to Hell. Yinsen was convinced the material world was a sort of hell…a prison for souls to serve out their sentences and be rehabilitated until it was their time. He had served his. So why? He had no use for a world without his loved ones, his very heart. Yinsen had fought the voice calling him back until he could no longer.

Now he was separate. Now he was alone. Now he was cold.

Sobs bubbled up from his chest and he made no move to muffle them. He couldn't. Being prone for so long had left him atrophied and weak, and he had already lost much of his weight while being imprisoned. He had taken several bullets to the gut. He remembered the agony. How?

His conscious state must have set off an alarm, as two nurses entered the room with quick steps. His German had always been a little weak, and Yinsen was less inclined to coherence as his emotions ran wild.

"It's okay, now." One of the nurses dabbed his brow with heavily accented English. Yinsen could only shake his head.

It wasn't okay. It would never be okay.

"Welcome back to us, Dr. Yinsen."

Stephen flipped through his files at rapid pace, eyes flickering as he memorized their contents. With his tight schedule, he could really only afford to take on the most dire of cases—the ones no other surgeon could tackle with any sort of success. Before, it had been a source of pride. Now, he felt the burden heavy on his shoulders. Being someone's last hope…that held a weight he had been too stupid to acknowledge for what it was. It was a privilege…and yet.

Cloak swayed back and forth to the music coming from the speakers Tony bought him for his office. He was so spoiled—which reminded him, he should make the man buy him a proper turntable as well. Lossless digital was all fine and good, but nothing beat the warmth and sensation of vinyl.

A clamor from outside made him glance up from his tea and Cloak transformed back into a tie and quickly went still—just in case. The voices and footsteps grew louder and more hurried before there was a sharp banging on his door.

"Dr. Stephen Stark?"

He finished sipping his jasmine and settled the cup primly on its saucer. Goddammit.

"Well, enter."

The detective from earlier, along with two other men in uniform barged in. Hospital security lagged ineffectively behind. Martin sent an apologetic look his way.

"I keep strict office hours, Detective. You'll have to see your doctor for a referral."

The woman snorted. "Cut the crap. You're under arrest."

"Am I? Is this why you've paid me a visit? This is such a shock. I could never have guessed."

"Enough. Stand slowly and keep your hands where we can see them." She stalked forward, removing the cuffs from her belt.

"Martin, tell the Dr. Fuller I'll be indisposed for the time being. And call my husband if you don't mind," Stephen asked as he complied. The cuffs bit into his skin.

"I'll get a hold of him, Stephen, don't you worry," Martin assured, glaring at three officers. Nurses and staff began to crowd the halls, whispers of shock cutting through the air.

Detective Knight grasped his right arm while one of her colleagues took a hold of his left. The other served to push their way through the crowd. As he was tugged away, she began to speak, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you can say can and will be used against you in a court of law-"

Chapter Text

Stephen idly examined his manicured nails under the bright fluorescent lighting. Once he had been processed and given a pat down he was cuffed to a table and left alone. It was probably an attempt to intimidate him. The effect was lost given the fact he could be free and out the door in less than a minute. But as of now, his plan was to simply wait. That was the whole point of this, after all. He could find out more about what they had if he played his cards right. JARVIS was a marvel, but he couldn't exactly hack into paper files and someone's brain. And Detective Knight was proving to be a cut above her colleagues.

Stephen's ruminating was cut short by the door flying open and a clearly irate Tony shoving past the officer, speaking rapidly into his cellphone. Stephen lifted two fingers in greeting to Anderson from Legal. The poor man looked done already. They should really give him a bonus after this. Detective Knight entered last, just as unruffled as always.

"Thanks, Diane, I really appreciate it. Sorry to call you so suddenly. I'll be in touch to let you know how this panned out…oh, absolutely. Steph and I will swing by for canapés this weekend. Tell Greg I said hello and that he better work on his serve. Next time I aim to win." Tony shoved his phone into his pocket.

"Diane?" Detective Knight asked as if inquiring about the weather.

"Yes, Diane Fischer, the D.A." Tony leaned forward, seeming to fill the room despite his average height. "You have got a lot of nerve, Detective, considering I went easy on you before. But apparently I must not have been too clear so allow me to rectify that oversight: by the time I'm done with you, you'll be lucky if they call you Meter Maid Misty!"

That got a response. Detective Knight's nostrils flared and she leaned forward as well. "I wouldn't be quick to throw my weight around if I were you, Mr. Stark, considering your sugar baby is implicated in the deaths of fifteen people…that we know about."

"Down, Tony." Stephen sighed. Her doing her job wasn't anything to get upset over. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say." His eyes then raked over Stephen's form. "The cuffs're a good look on you."

Stephen smirked. "I know."

"Is that an incontrovertible fact, Detective?" Anderson intervened. "That's a serious charge you're leveling at my client."

"I don't joke about murder," Detective Knight said in return.

"And I don't joke about slander and sloppy police work, but here I am. My client will be exercising his right to an attorney, now, thank you."

Knight huffed. "He'll need it. We're looking at…hm. Pre-meditation, obstruction of justice, and harassment of an officer."

"Harassment?" Tony asked. Detective Knight opened the file in her hand.

"Indeed. Regarding a ring-like item in his possession he said, and I quote, "Oh that? That's a family heirloom…don't misunderstand. It's your family's—your father and mother gave it to me."

Anderson's face twitched. Tony blinked then turned to face Stephen. "Carinyo. I didn't think it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but my. God-"

"Shall I tell you what I have?" Detective Knight nodded at the one way window and took a seat across from Stephen. She crossed her arms and examined him closely.

"You've got no case. He didn't-"

"Of course he didn't."

Tony went speechless. A rare enough event that Stephen enjoyed it for what it was—hypocritical, but he never claimed to be a saint. His husband eyed the detective. "Well, that was easy."

Stephen chuckled and allowed the cuffs to slide from his wrists with a small gesture. Misty snorted.

"Fucking figures. This is all crazy."

"Would someone care to explain?" Asked Anderson.

"Sure thing," Misty said with a nod. "Several things about this case weren't adding up. The cause of death, the signs of strength at the crime scenes no human should be able to possess.  I'm talking about a bent metal guardrail, the shattered bones in one victim's arms—we assumed he had attempted to defend himself. Other…Strange things."

"That is not and will never be funny," Stephen said with a sigh.

"False," Tony said. Stephen scowled at him.

Misty continued, "Oh, I'm bustin' a gut over here. Add to that the fact that all bodies were sent to MG despite the fact several were far closer to three different and capable hospitals, I believed there to be some kind of connection. But Dr. Stark…the not quite as annoying one-" Stephen was smirking this time again while Tony's eyes narrowed, "would have had to be in two different places at the same time and capable of popping between two Burroughs in the blink of an eye—actually, can you do that?"

"I plead the Fifth," Stephen intoned. Misty snorted once more. She opened the thick folder and spread the documents across the table. Pictures of stomach-churning gore were quickly covered by medical examiners' reports and police records.

"Have a seat, dear, you're looming," said Stephen.