You’d think that, seeing a tall bronze statue commemorating his supposed death as a hero during the battle against Thanos, Stephen would feel something other than vague pride.
That he'd feel some sort of disgust, or as if someone had just walked over his grave or something.
After everything he had endured, after everything he had gone through in his life, Stephen had an… odd relationship with death. After his car crash, after Dormammu and those time loops, after Thanos and those 14 millions futures, after that final battle…
If pain was an old friend, then Death was a date who kept standing him up but that he couldn’t stop rescheduling with.
He had seen and buried his own dead body a few hours ago, and still had not felt anything other than a vague sense of disgust at the sight of the ponytail on the other Strange’s head.
That was probably not healthy, but Kamar Taj did not come with a healthcare plan, so Stephen would never get to find out.
“You okay?” asked America Chavez, looking at him in vague concern.
“I’ll be better once we find a way of going back there and help Wong,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the statue. He refused to believe that Wong was dead. Wong was the Sorcerer Supreme and even if Wanda managed to overpower him, he decided to believe that she still wouldn’t kill him.
Wanda herself had... interesting beliefs and had made equally interesting choices in her life, but the Scarlet Witch was not stupid. Wong was a tool she could use; she wasn’t going to kill him.
At least, he hoped.
“How-” started America, and then quieted when the door of the Sanctum opened.
Stephen had been hopeful that despite the glaring detail of this Doctor Strange variant being dead, things wouldn’t be so bad.
And then Mordo walked out of the Sanctum.
+++
The last time Stephen had seen Mordo had been a few weeks before the entire Spider-Man shitshow. The sorcerer had been among those snapped, and had only recently started up his plans to steal magic from sorcerers again.
There had been a fight between himself, Wong and Mordo during said reunion, but Mordo had escaped when he had realised that they were about to overwhelm him. He had looked crazed, drunk with power and filled with resentment, a madman and a fanatic scrambling for a way to kill Stephen and ‘restore Kamar Taj to what it should have always been’.
Was it not for the fact that Stephen recalled what Mordo had been like at the beginning of their acquaintanceship, Stephen would have never recognised the Mordo who led them in the Sanctum as the same person who had wanted his head on the Platter of Gorganzu (Mordo’s own words).
The man had been far more happy and accommodating towards him than even the first iteration of Mordo had been, calling him his ‘brother’ and hugging him before inviting him and America to take a seat.
This Universe really did walk on red.
“So you’re the Sorcerer Supreme now?” guessed Stephen, glancing around the Sanctum curiously.
In the years he had been Master of the New York Sanctum, he had changed the place, both him and Wong adding enough touches to place to almost make it home. He had not even really realised how much his own Sanctum had changed until he was sitting in a building so similar and yet so different from the one he was used to.
He could still see hints of almost familiar decour, but they were sparse and very old, mostly overtaken by what Stephen assumed was Mordo’s personal touch.
Mordo chuckled. “No, of course not. I am the Master of the New York Sanctum.”
As expected.
“Wong, then?”
“Wong?” asked Mordo, a little surprised. “I didn’t know you two knew each other. But no, not him either. Wong is the librarian.”
As he had been in their universe too, before he had followed Stephen to New York to replace Master Drumm.
“Then who’s the Sorcerer Supreme?” wondered Stephen, curious despite himself. “The Ancient One-”
“Died years ago, before your time,” said Mordo, shaking his head. “But you will meet our Sorcerer Supreme very soon. I am just waiting for- ah,” he interrupted himself, as a paper plane soared into the room. He plucked it from the air and opened the message, eyes quickly moving over the page. “He has been informed of your arrival. He has agreed to meet us. Very well: let us go.”
“He has not told us who the Sorcerer Supreme is,” whispered America, sounding a little worried as Mordo opened a portal. “Is that a good sign?”
Stephen glanced at Mordo, who was now stepping through the portal.
The man had seemed helpful enough, and he had hugged him and called him ‘brother’, but still. He couldn’t trust him too easily.
“Wanda Maximoff is not your Sorcerer Supreme, is she?” he asked, just to make sure.
Mordo burst into laughter. “Maximoff? Oh no,” he said, sounding deeply amused. “She’s not. The witch is too busy with her kids, the loss of Vision during the battle was too much for her to continue on as an Avenger. And with her kids, who can blame her?”
So this Wanda did have children. The Darkhold had not been completely lying to Maximoff.
That complicated things.
“Our Sorcerer Supreme, well... he’s not Maximoff. You trained him, actually.”
“You are being vague on purpose,” said Stephen, following him through the portal with America in tow.
“I am,” agreed Mordo, and his smile dimmed. “I am just not sure of how you will react. If you are anything like our Stephen Strange, I believe it will be safer for you to meet our Sorcerer Supreme yourself.”
“Hm,” said Stephen, forcing himself to relax as the Cloak started to pick up on his anxiety and becoming disquieted.
Despite everything, he did not think this was a trap. However it had happened, in this universe it was clear that Mordo had come to appreciate him, that he was a friend of Stephen and not an enemy.
Whatever the reason for him being vague was, it was not being done maliciously - or at least Stephen did not think it was. It was done with Stephen’s best interest in mind.
Whether that was a good decision or not, Stephen wasn’t sure of yet.
Honestly, in so far, Stephen had never personally trained anyone at Kamar Taj. He was not the teacher type, and patience had never been one of his most sought after virtues. So to think that he had trained someone and turned him into the next Sorcerer Supreme simply did not compute in his brain.
Unless Mordo was exaggerating and Stephen had simply been one of the many teachers this sorcerer had had.
That made a little more sense.
Many paused in their tasks, as Stephen and America walked in the courtyard and towards the Sorcerer Supreme’s room. No one was pointing, but plenty were gawking, staring at him in bemusement and confusion.
It was a little eerie how despite how different everything else had appeared to Stephen so far, Kamar Taj looked exactly the same. A staple of the Multiverse, perhaps?
“You were a good Sorcerer Supreme,” said Mordo, noting the way he was glancing at the other staring sorcerers. “Our community adored you. Kamar Taj felt your loss deeply.”
He had not really fought Wong for the title when he had found out he was the new Sorcerer Supreme, but it was nice to have proof that, even if he had gotten the title, things would not have gone terribly. Next time Wong tried to claim otherwise, Stephen would-
Mordo paused in front of the door and bowed deeply in the manner Wong kept trying to get Stephen to do. “We are here.”
As a visitor of another Universe meeting his counterpart’s successor, Stephen had had every intention to bow too. To show that he was respectful, and not an asshole, and hopefully instil them with enough good attitude and behaviour that they’d feel comfortable offering him their help.
But he made the mistake of looking into the room and at the other Sorcerer Supreme.
And then, he promptly froze.
The Sorcerer Supreme did not seem to mind or even notice, as he stepped out of the room, eyes fixed on Stephen’s own.
“Hello, Doctor Strange,” said Tony Stark, and Stephen promptly lost the ability to breathe.
+++
Stephen Strange had fallen in love with Tony Stark on the same day he had met him for the first time.
No, that wasn’t quite correct.
Stephen Strange had fallen in love with Tony Stark over the course of 14,000,005 futures that took place across a single day - the day he met him for the first time.
It had been inevitable. That quick wit, his amazing mind, his sharp tongue, that beautiful laugh, the way he loved so deeply and cared too much, and those beautiful eyes.
Stephen had wanted to hate him. Had wanted him to be exactly like the media described, to be the nightmare that so many insisted he was.
It would have been so easy to work with him if he could have hated him.
But Stark did not give him a chance to. He pulled everything and everyone in his orbit, and he loved wholly and fully, and valued everyone’s life above his own and he understood Stephen, and Stephen had never had a chance to win.
Tony didn’t just hear him, he didn’t just listen to him: he understood him, and it was something that was so rarely happened to Stephen that he wouldn’t have been able to walk away had he wanted to.
And he had not wanted to.
He had wanted really hard to hate him, but by the time he had opened his eyes after observing 14 million different futures, there had been only love in his eyes when he looked at Tony.
And then quickly after, two different kinds of heartbreak.
The first, for the lack of recognition in Tony’s eyes. For the way Tony acted like Stephen was a stranger, like he didn’t know him and he didn’t trust him.
And second, for the fate he knew awaited the man, a fate as terrible as it was inevitable.
For the greater good.
He had spent 9,083,217 different futures trying to find an alternative. Trying to find at least one future in which the price of life, the price of Thanos’ destruction was not Tony’s death.
He had tried so hard that his mind had nearly collapsed with the strain of it.
But there was no such future. There was no way of keeping the Universe intact and keeping Tony Stark alive.
And Stephen had sat on that rock on Titan, watching Tony speak to Spider-Man and tried to come to terms with the fact that he was signing the death certificate of a man he now loved.
Had died, and come back to life just to see his own heart break again as Tony burned in a supernova of Infinite magic, watched the charred remains of the brightest star in the Universe surrounded by the people who actually knew him, and then bowed with a bunch of strangers who thought that the tears going down his cheeks were because of pain or other physical suffering.
Had come to the funeral of Tony Stark and watched the man’s family grieve, mourn their loved one like he didn’t know he was the cause of it. Forced his own pain down because what right did he have, truly, to mourn with them? When he was the reason he was gone?
What right did have to show his face and stand with Pepper Stark and Morgan Stark, the women he had widowed and orphaned, as they said goodbye to Tony?
Not a day had gone by where Stephen did not think about Tony Stark’s sacrifice. Where he did not wonder if there could have been another way, if he could have tried a little harder, if there had been a solution in future number 14,000,006. Or 14,000,007 or 14,000,008.
But it didn’t change the fact that Tony Stark was gone. That Stephen had killed him, and that he would never see him again.
It didn’t change the fact that he had had to lie to Christine when she had asked him if he was happy, because he couldn’t find the words to tell her that he was empty inside, that he had been empty inside since Tony had gotten his hands on the gauntlet and snapped his fingers, since he had opened his eyes on Titan and said the dreaded ‘one’.
It didn’t change the fact that he would never see Tony Stark again.
Unless, apparently, he was in an alternate universe where Tony was alive and well and the Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar Taj.
He wanted to move, to bow, or to even say anything, but he couldn’t. All he could do was drink in the sight of Tony. Of Tony, standing in front of them, skin unmarred and unburnt, those familiar brown eyes trained on Stephen’s face, chest going up and down rhythmically as he breathed, fingers tapping against his leg because Tony could never quite stand still.
Of Tony standing in front of him, alive.
Alive.
“Stephen?” called America, and Stephen breathed out, forcing himself to remember why they were here. Everyone’s eyes were on him, including those of Mordo and the sorcerers who had been watching their procession.
He was not here to drink in the sight of Tony Stark alive and well.
He forced himself to move and bowed as deeply as he could. “Master Stark,” he managed, pretending that his voice had not cracked at all.
When he looked back up, Tony was almost smiling at him.
“I have never heard you call me that,” he said, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Then his face returned more serious, as he glanced at America standing beside him. “Why are you here, Strange?”
It was more common for Tony to call him Strange than anything else. Sometimes he assigned him some inane nicknames that Stephen chose to suffer through because he knew Tony did not mean anything rude with them, and more often than not he had been called ‘Doctor Wizard’.
And yet, there was something about the way he called him Strange, the way Mordo had glanced at him when he did that made him feel like Tony did not usually call him that.
Or, at least, he did not usually call the other Strange that.
Because this was not his- the Tony Stephen had known. This was a Tony Stark Stephen had never met, because the one he had met was now dead.
Because of Stephen himself.
“Wanda Maximoff,” he started, and then quickly explained their story. He tried to keep the details of America’s powers to himself, but he had a feeling Tony had already guessed there was something he wasn’t telling him. After all, there had to be a reason for Wanda Maximoff to be chasing them.
Tony glanced over at Mordo, who nodded at him.
Then he turned back to Stephen, arms crossed behind his back.
“Follow Mordo,” he said, after observing him for a few moments longer. “He will take you where you need to go next.”
“What?” said Stephen, confused. “But-”
“Strange-”
“We need your help,” he insisted, frowning at Tony. “You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Wanda Maximoff is a threat, and you should know this. Look, I’m not sure why you’re a sorcerer and not Iron Man, in this Universe-”
“Stephen,” snapped Tony, a look of warning in his eyes. His mouth twitched, as if he hadn’t meant to call him that, but then he straightened up. “Go with Mordo. Yes, I am the Sorcerer Supreme. But you are a traveller of the Multiverse. This is not something that I have sole jurisdiction over. I might not even...” he stopped what he was saying, then fixed him with another stern look. “Go with Mordo. I will join you momentarily. I take your warning seriously, I am. But there are protocols. Protocols that have been put in place by you, Strange. Or at least, the other you. We are supposed to work together. Teamwork.”
The disdain at the word ‘teamwork’ was so Tony that Stephen’s heart ached for a moment, even as he smiled a little.
Tony reciprocated the smile before he seemed to flinch, and his face went blank again. He glanced at Mordo and nodded again. “Just follow him.”
“With me,” said Mordo, voice unusually gentle as he created a portal for them.
Stephen glanced at the facility-like interior of the other portal, and then glanced back at Tony again.
When he did, he found Tony still staring at him, despite having moved a little farther away from Stephen and the portal.
And for a moment, before he stepped through the portal, all Stephen could see was the pain and heartbreak in Tony’s eyes.
And then the portal closed behind them.
Mordo took him and America through a decontamination room first. He claimed that their magic had already made sure he was not carrying any disease, but they had to make doubly sure of the fact before he could be allowed to meet the panel who would, apparently, decide his fate regarding Wanda Maximoff. Meeting this Universe’s version of Christine was not as jarring as meeting Tony had been, but it had been still a little weird.
“Why did you not tell me about Tony?” he asked, as he walked past another metal detector.
Mordo gave him a look. “Because of the way you reacted when you saw him. With you two, you never know how you will react. Whether you were going to cry and try to hug him, or attack him.”
“Attack him?”
Mordo shrugged. “Your relationship has always been very explosive. I’ve learnt to roll with the punches.”
Relationship.
Did that mean what Stephen thought it meant?
Had this version of him been in a relationship with Tony, before his death?
“It was never your time, in this Universe,” said Mordo, correctly reading Stephen’s question in his eyes. Just how close had the two of them been? “First he was injured, then there was Pepper. Then he was your student, and you were the Sorcerer Supreme. And then... you did what you did.”
America looked worried. “What did he do?”
Mordo did not answer. “The Illuminati should be ready for you, by now.”
“The illumi-whati?”
“The Illuminati,” repeated Mordo, giving back his Cloak as they proceeded down the hallway again. “A council that you yourself founded years ago, at the dawn of the Age of Superheroes. To oversee superhumans’ actions in the world and judge them fairly for their crimes. To stop superheroes who end up going too far.”
In Kamar Taj they had the Elder Sorcerers, but if this other Stephen Strange had been more involved with the other so called superheroes and Avengers than he himself had been before Thanos, he could see why it would become necessary.
A superhero version of the Accords Council. Self regulation.
Just the sort of thing Tony had always advocated for.
“Is Tony a member?” he found himself asking. “And will they help us with the Wanda problem?”
“Master Stark,” corrected Mordo, “Is a member. But that is because he’s the Sorcerer Supreme, and took over from you after your death. Whether they are going to help you or not, that’s a completely different matter. You are the splitting image of the other Stephen Strange.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” questioned Stephen, confused. “Saviour of the Universe and all that?”
Mordo did not answer. He smiled sadly, like he thought he was looking at Stephen for the last time, and then motioned for two robots that did not look very unlike Tony’s own Iron Man armours, and the doors opened.
“Good luck,” he told him, still in that almost sad tone. “You will need it.”
“That doesn’t sound ominous at all,” muttered America, turning to look at him. “What do we do?”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” admitted Stephen, as he walked into the large room.
It was a little darker than the outside had been - possibly done so for effect - and it took Stephen’s eyes a few seconds to adjust.
When he did, he finally realised that they were not alone in the room. There were five large occupied chairs in the room, with one almost empty spot in the middle.
Tony was sitting towards the left of the room, between a man dressed all in black with a fork for head accessory, and what seemed to be this Universe’s version of Captain America - if Captain America had been a woman with a shield depicting a flag of the UK instead of the US.
“Neither of them is wearing shackles,” coldly observed the non Captain Britain (maybe?) woman in the room, eyes narrowed at Stephen. Her suit was dark too, but something about its star design reminded Stephen of Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers.
Tony did not turn to look at her. “They weren’t threats. They came to ask for our help, without attacking or causing any sort of harm. They will leave once they’re done.”
“I don’t feel like we can trust your judgement on this,” said the one Stephen was just going to call Captain Britain for the time being. “You are too close to the situation.”
This time Tony did turn to look at her. “He’s not our Stephen.”
“But you can’t deny he looks just like him,” said the first woman, while the man wearing the dark clothes nodded.
Tony’s jaw clenched and he stared straight at Stephen. “I stood with you guys while you murdered him, the first time,” he said, coldly. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar Taj. I am not going anywhere.”
“But-”
“If Stark says he can do this, then he can do this,” said the first man, who was wearing a blue suit with the number 4 stitched on top.
Tony grimaced in that way he did whenever someone he wasn’t fond of agreed with him.
It would have been endearing, but Stephen was stuck on another part of their conversation. “I’m sorry, murdered?”
“You didn’t tell him?” asked Captain Britain, turning to glance at Tony in disapproval.
He turned to her with an empty smile. “You made the motion the first time. I thought you’d want the honour.”
“Enough-” came a new voice, as Captain Britain prepared to argue more.
A newcomer moved until he was sitting between Captain Britain and the other woman, a bald man moving on a wheelchair. “What is done, is done. Now, we will focus on what is next. Welcome, Doctor Strange. America Chavez.”
“You say that, but I am starting to feel decidedly unwelcome,” said Stephen, fingers itching to cast a protective spell around him.
He did not know if they’d take it as a sign of aggression from him, however, and he had yet to figure out how much of a threat everyone was.
Tony caught his eye as he studied everyone else, and he shook his head once, warningly.
Stephen forced his shaky fingers to flex. “If you were going for spooky and Volturi-like, you have achieved what you were looking for,” he said, coming to stand closer to America.
“Apologies,” said the man in the wheelchair. “That wasn’t our intention. Master Stark?”
“Stephen Strange,” said Tony, standing up. He was not looking him in the eye. “You are now called before the Illuminati. I, Anthony Stark, hereby invite you to present your case. Attending, Captain Carter, the First Avenger.” Captain Britain raised her head. “Blackagar Boltagon, keeper of the Terrigen Mists, the Inhuman King.”
“Blackagar Boltagon?” couldn’t help but repeat Stephen, watching the fork guy a little pityingly. What a name.
“Captain Marvel, defender of the Cosmos.”
So he had gotten that right.
“Mr Fantastic-”
“The smartest man alive-” interrupted the guy with the blue uniform.
Tony’s jaw ticked in irritation. “Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four.”
Either he did not see Tony’s annoyance or he did not care, because Richards smiled at Stephen. “Hello, Stephen.”
“Fantastic Four?” he repeated. “Didn't you guys chart in the sixties?”
Tony’s lips twitched.
“I'm sorry,” said Captain Marvel, not sounding very sorry. “Is this a joke to you?”
Stephen shrugged. “Well there's a guy over there with a fork on his head, so, yeah. Little bit.”
“You can’t ever make things easy for yourself, can you?” asked America, sighing.
“Sorry, kid.”
“Be grateful Black Bolt doesn't engage you in conversation,” said Captain Britain, eyes narrowed.
“Why? Does he have bad breath?”
“This Strange is even more arrogant than ours,” said Captain Marvel, seeming almost surprised by this fact.
“No, just more alive,” said Stephen, shrugging.
Tony’s lip twitched, but he was the only one to find this amusing.
“For now.”
“Our last member,” said Tony, before Stephen could bite back. “Doctor Charles Xavier.”
“Stephen,” said the bald man, his eyes looking the warmest and kindest out of everyone present.
“Now that the presentations are over can we go back to Wanda Maximoff, please?” asked Stephen, forcing himself to not look at Tony. Tony might be the one he knew best how to convince, but he had a feeling that, between everyone’s attitude and Mordo’s earlier words, it would not do him any good to address him head on. “Because we’d greatly appreciate your help. The Scarlet Witch is dangerous, and she’s coming after America. If she gets her and does the ritual she’s planning on doing, no one in the Multiverse is ever going to be safe again. You have to help us stop her, she’s a danger to not only our Universe, but yours and all of the ones out there.”
“Funny you’d say that,” said Captain Marvel, still looking at him coldly. “Because the greatest threat to our and every universe has always been you, Doctor Strange.”
“Maria-”
“What?”
“You don’t understand what your mere presence does to this Universe,” said Richards, shaking his head. “You have to understand, your arrival here... it confuses and destabilises reality. The larger the footprint you leave behind, the greater the risk of an incursion.”
Stephen turned to America, one eyebrow raised. “Incursion?”
She shook her head. “Never heard of it.”
“An incursion occurs, when the boundary between two Universes erodes, and they collide. It ends up destroying one, or both, entirely.”
“Your alternate self created the Illuminati, to make difficult decisions that no one else could. Today, we're here to determine what to do with you, and the child,” continued Captain Britain.
“So, before we vote, if you got anything serious to say? Now's the time,” finished Captain Marvel.
Tony did not look at Stephen, or America.
Stephen forced himself to look at Captain Britain. “Yeah, I do. Do you seriously think I'm a bigger threat than the Scarlet Witch? Do you have any idea of what she is capable of, of what she’s willing to do?”
“Oh, we can handle either of the witch if she decides to dreamwalk.”
“No,” said Stephen, shaking his head. “No, you cannot, not unless you give me the Book of Vishanti.”
“We appreciate your concern, Stephen, but it's not the Scarlet Witch that we fear,” said Richards, concern lacing his tone.
“You don’t understand how strong she is,” said America, clearly distressed. “She has been tracking me before she even knew who I was or I knew anything about her, through dozens and dozens of different Universes.”
“Perhaps,” said Richards. “But, from our experience, the greatest danger to the Multiverse, it turns out… is Doctor Strange.”
“You are a threat to our Universe, Doctor Strange,” said Captain Britain, severe brown eyes pinned on him. “You, who think you always know better than anyone, and who needs to always do the most dangerous play there is. You are the reason our Universe was almost destroyed.”
“That’s not true,” said America, shocked. “Doctor Strange’s a hero.”
“I thought I helped save you against Thanos,” he said, heart beating a little faster. He had been ignoring their earlier mention of murder, but now… He narrowed his eyes. “You killed me. Why?”
“Because you reached farther than you should have,” said Xavier, expression sad. “Our Strange did not die defeating Thanos. Allow me to show you.”
Stephen did not even have time to try and understand what the man meant with his words before his mind was breached.
“We were at war,” said Xavier’s voice in his head. “Thanos was coming for us, and he was stronger than ever. We all banded together, to take him down together, but our Stephen... he chose another path. He chose to do it alone.
“While we all came to together in battle after battle, Stephen turned to the Darkhold. He began dreamwalking. In hopes that our salvation might lie in the Multiverse.”
The book that Wanda had been wielding appeared in Stephen’s mind eye.
“But it didn’t.
“We tried to stop him, to convince him to put it back.”
An image of Tony talking to a Stephen who looked a little more wild than before, as he tried to get him to put the book back down.
“One day, you called us all together, to profess that you've been dreamwalking. And that, in your words, ‘things have gotten out of hand.’ You never told us the details of what had happened. Only that you had inadvertently triggered an incursion. That you, our friend, had caused the annihilation of another universe. Everyone in that reality died. Everyone.”
An image of the other Stephen, crying in the Tony’s arms. Tony’s eyes were fixed to the ground, arms holding Stephen tightly. But every other member of the Illuminati was looking at Stephen’s back in shock and horror.
“ Stephen renounced the Darkhold. He even helped us find the Book of Vishanti. We came together. We rallied. We destroyed Thanos, and stopped the threats against our Universe.
“The Illuminati sat together, and we came to a decision. Our job is to keep everyone in the world safe, and by killing Thanos, we had almost achieved our goal. Almost, however. One final threat remained, after that. You. ”
An image of Titan. The members of the Illuminati were all standing in front of the other Strange, who was on his knees before them. They were all suited up and prepared for battle.
Tony was among them, and the only one who looked like the situation was tearing something in him. His cheeks were wet with tears, and he was not wearing the robes of Sorcerer Supreme.
“I understand,” said the other Strange, eyes on Xavier. “Do what you must do.”
“Stephen,” said Tony, looking at him pleadingly. Captain Marvel had a hand on his shoulder, and Mr Fantastic had his sling ring in his hand. “Please. We-”
“It’s okay,” said the Other Strange, voice steady, lips tilted in a tired but honest smile. “You will be a great Sorcerer Supreme. I know this because I’ve trained you.”
Tony smiled too, tears rolling down his cheeks, and Stephen looked away, back towards the Black Bolt. He raised his chin, even as he remained where he was. “I’m ready.”
The Black Bolt opened his mouth, and then a sound that Stephen’s brain could not even comprehend filled the memory Xavier was projecting. It seemed as if he was shouting pure light, and it was only a matter of seconds before the Other Strange had been vaporised completely from sight.
Xavier retreated from his mind and Stephen gasped from where he was now on the ground.
“Stephen,” said America, shaking his shoulder. “Stephen?!”
“I’m okay,” he lied, trying to catch his breath. He glanced at the man wearing the dark clothes, who was watching him impassively.
He tried not to shudder too clearly.
He looked back at Xavier as he forced himself to his feet, not glancing at Tony. “What about the statue?” he found himself saying, at a loss of words. “Why… why keep up a pretence?”
“The world needs heroes,” said Xavier, as if it was that simple.
In a way, Stephen supposed it was.
He had once asked Tony why he had remained an Avenger, even after he had realised the team was not really as much of a team as they pretended they were.
“The world needs to believe in heroes,” had answered the man. Stephen had not been sure he had understood, then.
After the year since Tony died? He understood now.
“I am not my counterpart,” said Stephen. “Or maybe I am. I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve never used the Darkhold, and I am not sure I understand the situation that brought him to use it.”
Didn’t he? He wondered, had he known what the book of the Damned was, had he known to find Agatha Harkness and steal it from her, would he have used it? Would he have tried?
Would it have saved Tony?
He glanced at where the other now sorcerer was watching him, and remembered the grief, and tears, and pain in his eyes as he had been forced to stand and watch Stephen’s execution.
He forced himself to speak through the familiar taste of grief in his throat and glanced back at Xavier. “All I know is that the Scarlet Witch is coming. She’s coming, she’s angry, and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants.”
“We can handle her,” said Captain Marvel, confidently. “But you-”
“What is it that you want from us?” asked Tony, interrupting her. “You came here for a reason. You don’t think we can win against Wanda, but you want something from us.”
“Tony,” said Captain Marvel, warningly.
He turned to her with one of those expressions of his that he claimed to have learnt from Pepper Potts. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme of Kamar Taj,” he said, in an equally warning voice. “I am asking another sorcerer a question. I want all the information before I cast my voice.”
“You are biased.”
“Perhaps,” snapped Tony. “Maybe I am. Maybe, I am just doing my job.” He turned to Stephen, almost glaring at him. “What do you want?”
He looked so much like his - not his, never his - Tony that it physically made something in Stephen ache.
“We have been trying to find the Book of the Vishanti,” said America, taking a step forward. “It’s the Darkhold’s antithesis. If we can find it, or even a clue on how to find it, we can fight back. We can stop the witch.”
“And then you will leave?” asked Xavier, right as alarms started blaring.
Mr Fantastic frowned, but no one else paid it any attention.
“Xavier, you can’t think-”
Stephen was looking at Tony when he spoke. He shouldn’t, he knew that. He did it anyway.
“Yes,” he said, staring at him. “That’s all we need. Just information on how to find the book.”
Tony stared back at him, and Stephen did not imagine the way he held tighter on his chair for a moment.
“Xavier,” said Tony, eyes fixed on Stephen.
“You can’t be serious,” said Captain Britain. “Stephen Strange is dangerous.”
“Perhaps,” said Xavier. “But so is everyone else in this room.”
“No one else in this room nearly kickstarted an incursion,” pointed out Mr Fantastic, as yet more alarms started.
“We’ve been breached,” said Captain Marvel, standing up.
“It’s Wanda,” said Stephen, turning to look at the door warily. “She’s here.”
“I trust him,” said Xavier, all of a sudden.
“Xavier!”
“I saw his mind,” he continued. “I know our Stephen’s mind. I believe we can trust him. We can show him where the Book of the Vishanti is.”
“Xavier-”
“You go ahead and stop Wanda,” said Tony, standing up. “I’m going to take him there. I cast my vote.”
“Tony,” warned Captain Britain. “He’s not your Stephen.”
Tony glared at her. “I will tell you the same thing if we ever get a Steve Rogers variant accidentally show up in our Universe,” he told her, acidly.
Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her fists. A loud boom sounded, and now even Captain Marvel was starting to look wary.
“Go,” insisted Tony, as Black Bolt also stood. “I will take him there.”
“One way or another, they won’t be in our Universe much longer,” said Xavier, and was it just Stephen or was he looking directly at America when he said that?
The girl seemed to think so too, because she stepped closer to Stephen.
But Xavier did not add anything, instead turning to the rest of them. “Do we have a vote?”
Stephen did not get to know if they did or didn’t have a vote, because at that very moment Wanda burst into the room where the meeting was taking place.
America screamed, and Stephen erected a quick barrier around them before Wanda could even attack.
“You!” she said, face bloody and a glare on her face. “Give me the-”
Captain Marvel knocked into her, shoving her right back out of the room. Mordo had been there earlier, when he had let him in, and Stephen felt a pit in his stomach when he couldn’t find the sorcerer there anymore.
He wanted to believe that he had gone back to Kamar Taj, but...
“Let’s go!” said Tony, suddenly appearing beside them. He put a hand on Stephen’s arm. “Come on!”
“Go,” said Xavier, as the rest of the Illuminati followed after Captain Marvel and Wanda. “We’ll buy you time.”
The King of the Inhuman shot Stephen a look as he passed him, almost as if he was considering vaporing him with his voice anyway, but then he seemed to decide against it.
And then Tony opened a door, and the three of them ran.
+++
They did not talk, as they ran. Tony kept his hand on Stephen’s arm, and America ran just a little in front of him so that she couldn’t get lost. The sound of battle continued in the background, which automatically did not bode well for the Illuminati.
If they had a man who could scream you to death in a team and Wanda was still fighting two minutes later, he did not think that was generally a good sign.
“This way,” said Tony, as another loud blast sounded in the background. “We need to hurry.”
“Can’t we portal there?” demanded Stephen, breathing hard.
“You created the door,” said Tony. “You made it as hard to reach as possible, so no, Stephen. No nifty portals.”
“I hate my own genius,” said Stephen, and Tony’s lips twisted in a smile.
It disappeared as soon as he noticed Stephen looking at him, replaced by a scowl. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t make me... don’t let me,” said Tony, glaring. “I can’t do it again. I can’t...”
Say goodbye again.
“You don’t have to,” said Stephen, before he could think better of it. “You could-”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” warned Tony.
“You could come with us,” said Stephen, anyway. “You could come with me.”
“You are incredibly stubborn in every universe,” said Tony, as they turned another corner. He heard what sounded like Maximoff screaming after them, and Tony started running faster. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You think you can’t do that.”
“Would you come here?” asked Tony, as if challenging him. “After you have saved her. Would you come back here?”
They came to a stop in front of an old time door sealed shut and Stephen breathed slowly, eyes fixed on Tony.
“I can’t do that,” he eventually said, and Tony smiled.
It wasn’t a winning smile. More like resigned, like he knew the answer and couldn’t do anything about it.
“Go,” said Tony, finally letting go of his arm. It felt cold. “I’ll try to slow her down. Only you ever knew the way to open it. You-”
Stephen wanted to do many things now. He wanted to hold Tony in his arms. He wanted to convince him to come with them, to grab him and take him with them.
He wanted... Vishanti, he wanted too much.
He understood why his other self would turn to the book of the damned.
“I love you,” he said, instead.
“Stephen-”
“I’m not him,” he said, swallowing. Another loud boom echoed in the tunnel system. “And you’re not him. We are not who we have lost. But we are a version of them. And I never got to tell him, so I’m going to tell you. I love you, Tony Stark.”
Tony continued to glare at him. “You are insufferable. I told you not to let me like you.”
“You can’t resist me,” joked Stephen, ignoring the way his voice broke again.
“Damn it,” said Tony, and then he was wrapping his arms around Stephen. Stephen held him back, letting Tony squeeze him as tightly as he needed. “Damn it, Stephen. Why can’t we...”
“Ever get our timing right?”
Tony laughed. It sounded broken. “Yeah. The Universe does not like us.”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Stephen, his arms feeling empty as Tony pulled himself out of the hug. “It really doesn’t.”
Tony looked over at America, who was standing there very patiently for someone whose life was in mortal peril because of a deranged mom witch wanted her powers. “Good luck with your powers,” he told her. “I’ll hold her back.”
“Don’t die,” said Stephen, as Tony started moving back in the tunnel.
God, he hoped he didn't die.
He couldn't handle another dead Tony Stark.
“I love you too,” said Tony, not even bothering to turn around and look at him.
Stephen understood.
He hated goodbyes too.