Are You Happy?

As they drew closer to the centre point of the swirling clouds above them, Tony had to take note of how sickly this world looked. Every aspect of it screamed pain and desolation and Tony’s heart could only cry out for the suffering that this world- this universe, had undergone. 

But there were more pressing matters at hand. 

One of those was that Spider-Man was clearly injured and the stubborn little shit wouldn’t let him in on it. Tony had done a scan already, deciphering that the source was a set of cracked ribs. Yet the kid seemed to walk with ease, almost a spring in his step. The only thing that gave him away was his overt attempts at acting cheery. Given the dreary nature of their surroundings, nothing warranted such a hyper manner, yet Spider-Man was rambling on and on about his observations. All things that Tony had already taken diagnostics of with his suit, but he couldn’t help but listen to the young one’s excited chirping. 

It endeared him. 

Something in Tony desperately wanted to protect and nurture this young superhero, and where the thought of having such strong emotions for someone he barely knew should have terrified and puzzled him, all he could find in himself to do was to listen and hide his smile behind his mask. 

But his smile came with a tinge of worry. The kid’s hands every so often drifted to his chest, in a clear attempt to clutch his destroyed bones, but he’d catch himself just as they drifted there, and would find something else to do with them. 

Like gesture at the absolute nothingness around them and remark upon everything. 

“Mr Stark, do you think there’s Chlorine in the air? Is that what’s causing the colour? Obviously, it must be, but the levels must be mild considering we can breathe just fine. It’s been fifteen minutes, if signs of poisoning were to show, they would by now. But-”

“You got enhanced healing right kid?”

“Yeah. Which is why I'm not too worried about getting sick, but what about you Mr Stark? Can you breathe fine? Is your chest giving you any trouble?”

“Don’t worry about me kid. I’ve got an air filtration system in this thing. I’m good.” he paused, wondering why this random hero would ask him about his health. Or even care. “Say, how’re the ribs hanging?”

Spider-Man almost faltered in his tracks. He quickly gained his wits, “Nothing to it Mr Stark. They’re perfectly fine.”

“You know I’ve got a scanner right? I can see that you’re hurt.”

Spider-Man chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, Mr Stark. I’m enhanced, this is nothing.”

“We could rest.”

“Yeah, this place doesn’t seem like the hospitable type. I’ve been through worse, we can keep going.”

“What do you mean you’ve been through worse? Who’s your medic kid?” Tony’s eyebrows creased with concern, and Spider-Man eyed him, before shrugging. 

“I don’t need one. I heal all on my own.”

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me you don’t have anybody to check on you when you’re injured? No mates, buddies, or secret girlfriend? Boyfriend? Decent doctor?” Tony was growing increasingly agitated by the newly revealed information. But he stopped abruptly when Spider-Man turned sharply. He winced as he did, and Tony almost reached out to support his weight, but the young man held up a hand. The eyes of his mask were drawn taut.

“With all due respect Mr Stark, that’s none of your business.”  That stung Tony deeper than he anticipated. He nodded slowly, and looked away, swallowing harshly. 

“Right. Secret identity and everything. Got it” 

“I don’t mean to offend you-”

“No, no. You didn’t. I get the whole schtick. Not everyone’s as dumb as me.”

“I don’t know. The whole ‘I am Iron Man’ thing is kinda what got me into wanting to be a hero in the first place.” Tony felt his chest swell with pride, but also a twinge of bitterness, at those words. In a way Tony was both the cause of inspiration for such an awesome superhero, but he was also the reason why this child was out here, risking his life instead of living a good, normal life. 

Tony didn’t want to stick his nose in matters that he had no business in, but he just couldn’t help himself from wanting to know more about the kid. Hell, Tony was pretty sure he was a literal kid. Which meant he wasn’t even worked into the reformed Accords. That left Spider-Man vulnerable, and Tony needed the kid to know that he had someone in his corner. He rationalised with himself. He would do this for anybody who needed it. It was basic decency. 

They walked a little more in silence. There wasn’t any high rise or foliage for Spider-Man to swing off of, and thus they were both better off just trekking. Tony was on high alert, taking every single detail coming to him via his systems, but the main part of his brain was stuck trying to piece together a story for Spider-Man.

From what he remembered, the kid was employed by him during the Civil War. Tony remembered giving him a suit back then. It obviously must have been destroyed in the battle of Thanos, along with his nano suit that Tony knew he had built him. He didn’t bring it up. It was clear that Tony was willing to dispose of resources in Spiderling’s favour. Yet, the past couple of months were sort of a blur for him when it came to matters of the young hero. 

Tony took their comfortable silence as a time to piece together what he knew about the hero. Here were the facts: they fought in the war against Thanos together. And then, everything after was a mystery. Spider-Man simply existed as a giant walking question mark. Even surfing the internet and his extensive databases didn’t fetch Tony any answers to the man’s activities or past. 

Tony shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell upon this. Spider-Man was right, they weren’t exactly in a place that was all that hospitable. As they kept treading towards the epicentre of what seemed like an increasingly volatile zone, Tony’s mind grew increasingly restless. He didn’t like the fact that they had been flung into this place, but he was grateful that they were still together. 

Flung here by Stephen. 

Tony gritted his teeth. He tried to understand that Stephen had done what he had in the hopes of protecting them. But the fact that he underestimated Tony’s ability to protect himself was what rubbed him the wrong way. But then again, Stephen must have been thinking about the kid as well. Wanda and Tony had history. She wouldn’t be merciful to him, or anyone associated with him.

But Stephen was affiliated with him, and for all, Tony knew he was currently being tortured by her back in their universe. Tony needed to get back. He needed…

Well, he needed to tell Stephen how he truly felt about him.  The reason why he was so pissed that Stephen had left them was that he was more worried about him. Because he cared about him. Damn, he really did, and the fact that he did should have frustrated him. Hell, this was the man that had known the fate of the universe and had seen it through, but no matter the losses that Tony had faced due to Stephen’s version of a win, he had to remember that he had saved much more. 

The universe, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Spider-Man and Tony himself were all alive because Stephen had chosen the path of least damage. 

But losing Steve. That had hurt. Steve and Tony had a rocky relationship. They were rivals right from day one, all due to Tony’s chagrin regarding the man after his father’s words. But the blonde man was also his greatest friend. They were close in a way that caused his betrayal to strike him more than anything possibly could have. Tony never expected them to reconcile. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for it. He valued the man’s friendship more than losing it over a fight. And after the first snap, they were able to nurture just that. They finally talked. Actually talked. Steve was compassionate and understood Tony’s side. He took the time to fully understand why Tony was so hostile and admired Tony’s ability to look past all of what Howard had done to him to be able to fight by Steve’s side. 

He apologised. Earnestly this time. And they slowly and steadily worked on their relationship. Steve was the one who stood by him during his darkest days after the snap. He pulled Tony out of his downward spiral where he battled his choice of letting the bottle go. He was the one that held him on the cold floor of his lab as the man broke down after years of trauma and pain. He was the one that brought him sandwiches and coffee as Tony worked endlessly to figure out a solution to the snap. 

And when he took the stones from him, he was the one to give him his last smile, before the light faded from his eyes. 

Tony’s robotic arm ached with phantom pains of the arm he had lost from the two seconds of radiation he had gotten from wielding the stones. Every time. Every time Tony thought he finally had someone who would be by his side, he lost them.  He really thought it would work out with Steve. Finally, a friendship from his new life that had seen his ugliest side and had yet persevered. 

But it was taken from him. And he really thought he would blame Stephen for it. 

But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

He liked the man. Scratch that. Tony was pretty sure he was in love with him. 

With Pepper, it had been different. She was well above and beyond him. Tony always felt like he was never good enough for her, that he was only burdening her, no matter how much she said he wasn’t. And with Pepper, there was one vital problem. She couldn’t accept Iron Man. Even during the final battle, where she donned the Rescue suit, as soon as the battle was done she shed the suit and moved past her brief superhero stunt. She hated every bit of the superhero life, and it was understandable. She valued herself, and her heart lay in a different life. 

Tony could respect her for it. He could even love her for it. But he couldn’t be in love with her for it. After so many years of trying, they finally gave it a rest. And now the friendship they had going was good. It was what they needed. 

But with Stephen. Stephen understood him. Both Tony Stark and Iron Man. And he never put him down for it. Tony thought it was because he was a superhero himself, but Stephen had made it abundantly clear in their conversations that it wasn’t because of his shared experience, but because Tony was living as his most authentic self when he was this, and Stephen loved that for him. 

And Tony? Tony loved Stephen. He found it hard to accept, hard to understand. But he found himself drawn to the wizard. Stephen respected him and met him at every edge with witty banter and when needed, a wise word. Stephen was what put him back together when he was spiralling after the war. But Tony knew deep down that it was unique to the sorcerer. If anyone else were in his place, Tony would simply be a mess. But Stephen met him with a patience and care that went beyond anything Tony had ever experienced before. Not putting him down as weak or pitiful for his state, or belittling him with platitudes, but by being real with him, and meeting him as an equal at every turn. 

It helped that Tony found him incredibly handsome. Him with his strong cheekbones, beautiful eyes, sharp tongue, and glorious body. 

Tony was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of his companion, “Um, Mr Stark?” Tony was immediately alert, cursing himself a little for allowing himself to drift so far into his thoughts. 

He looked around, trying to assess what kind of danger they were in. But all he found was Spider-Man looking at him curiously. 

“What is it, Underoos?”

Spider-Man seemed to hesitate momentarily. “I just- I wanted to apologise.”

 Tony cocked his head, wondering what the kid could possibly mean. “I- I really messed up Mr Stark. And because of me, you lost so much and-”

“Let me just stop you right there kid.” Spider-Man looked downright weary as he obliged. “To be completely honest with you, I have no clue what you mean. When it comes to you, I can’t remember…well anything! And that terrifies me. But I know, for a fact, that if I’ve lost anything, it’s just these memories. I’d like those back, but the good doctor told me they were gone for a reason. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how. Magic, right obviously. But kid, I haven’t lost anything because of you.”

“You lost Stephen.”

Tony stopped abruptly in his tracks and turned to face the worn-down hero. “What?”

“I’m the reason you and Stephen aren’t together.”

Tony tried his best to reel in his emotions, but nothing was making any sense to him, and he was growing increasingly frustrated. With this new environment and his emotions being in flux for months due to the very being before him, Tony was incredibly out of depth. “You gotta elaborate here, short stuff.”

Spider-Man’s shoulders raised with the need to say something, a tidal wave of words and emotions making his figure tremble, but at that moment they heard a loud crack of thunder. Immediately Tony’s shields were up and he stood before the Spiderling, arms covering both of them. From the storm in front of them, came purple lightning, moving in an intricate dance closer and closer to them. Tony stood with bated breath for this new threat to engage, and as he did all he could think about was how if he didn’t survive, the kid would be in danger. How, if he didn’t survive, he’d never get to see Stephen again. 

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Tony had been through enough bullshit in his life, and he had overcome it triumphantly. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to keep him from what he loved. 

The purple lightning crackled back and forth. A blurry figure could be seen floating above it, almost as if it were using the lightning as stepping stones. Tony squinted and could almost make out robes flitting in the wind. Tony realised that this must be a sorcerer. Either they could negotiate with them to take the pair of them to Stephen…or it was unfriendly, and they were screwed. 

Spider-Man on the other hand, gasped behind him and Tony yelled over the loud thunder for some answers. 

Tony placed a gentle hand on Spider-Man’s shoulder, “I’ve got this. I’ll try talking first and if that doesn’t work you come in and aim for the head, got it?”

“Got it.” Spider-man was already poised for the offensive, crouching in place behind him. Tony nodded to his side and the young superhero sped behind fallen debris to settle into position as the lightning drew closer. Tony rolled his shoulders and prepared to be the most charming man alive. 

 Not that it was a challenge. 

But he was quickly perturbed by the form that revealed itself. Breaking through the lightning and all the haze came a man, not just any man, but a man clad in sickly peacock green robes, laced with black and blue. As if it were bruised. With a long beard and pale skin, with eyes that were blown wide. 

It was Stephen. 

“Stephen? Stephen!” Tony had to stop himself from surging forward to hug the man. He was quick to realise, as this Stephen lowered his arms and brought himself to rest lightly on the ground, that there was something severely wrong with this man. He had a cold demeanour to him. His eyes were vacant of any and all warmth. 

One of Tony’s favourite features beheld by the man he had grown to love, Stephen- were his eyes. They seemed to vary in shades of blue. Whether by movement, shade or emotion, Tony couldn’t tell. But, somehow, despite the stormy grey colour they became when Stephen recalled his memories of Donna, or the deep navy blue hue they took when he was trying to fight back his frustration. In the midst of battle, when they were the crystalline blue, sharp and alert and even when they were tinged with green with the one-eyed monster…Stephen’s eyes were always expressive. They were marvellous. Evoking and conveying an array of emotions to rival the stoic facade of the man. 

The one thing Stephen’s eyes never were…Empty. 

This frazzled and frail Stephen’s eyes were devoid of any emotion. Any annotation to the inner workings of the humanely bizarre and brilliant man that bore them. A vacant, unchanging icy blue. 

Something was incredibly wrong. 

Before Tony could even offer him the benefit of the doubt, long threads of purple lightning were shot at him. They wrapped around his frame, and Tony yelled before charging the sides of his nano suit with repulsor energy and breaking through the binds. Not for the first or last time, the recurring thought of how much he hated magic arose. 

Spider-Man sprung in from the side, aiming a kick at this Stephen- okay gonna call him Strange- at Strange’s head. 

His head was knocked to the side as Spider-Man bound him in his webs. For extra measure, Tony aimed a precise pulse of energy at the webs, enhancing them with an electrical charge. 

They cornered the sorcerer, keeping him in their line of sight as he squirmed and struggled, ensuring he didn’t just fly off or something. Tony kept a repulsor aimed at him but allowed his face mask to mould back, having them talk face to face. “Who are you?”

Strange groaned, “I should be asking you that. You already know me.”

“No. I know a Stephen Strange. One that would not attack us. Ever. So tell me who you are and why you attacked us.” Tony charged his repulsor up for more effect as Spider-Man landed circled to the sorcerer’s other side. 

“I take it, this Stephen Strange of yours is from your universe, isn’t he? Did he send you here?” 

Tony sent another pulse through the webs, “Answer our questions first, dammit. Why did you attack us?” 

Strange sagged in his bindings, letting out a long sigh. “Tourists,” he mumbled under his breath, before the webs started vibrating slightly. 

“Uh, Mr Stark-” 

“Let it go kid, he’s about to blow!” Tony yelled, reaching for Spider-Man as purple light burst through the webs. Tony immediately shielded the younger hero, gathering him in his arms and blasting away from the enraged sorcerer. 

“Mr Stark!”

“We gotta find cover kid. Need a place to-”

“Need to get away from douche Stephen. Got it.” Tony smirked slightly, keeping an eye on his sensors. They caught Strange rising from the devastation behind them, a crater where he once stood. He was making his way towards them, darkness swirling around him. Tony wondered what could have happened to this man, to this version of Strange to make him this way. He was so dissimilar in every way from his Stephen, but for his face. 

A small part of him still hoped maybe he was good. Maybe there was a reasonable explanation for all of this. Usually, Tony’s first instinct is to trust whatever Stephen does. It’s worked out before. But everything about this dude was setting off alarm bells, and all the billionaire could think about was getting him and the spiderling as far away from him as possible. 

“Mr Stark, look!” Tony followed the kid’s pointing to a broken down sewage pipe system. The structure didn’t seem stable, as some force seemed to be crushing a multitude of those pipes into a maze -like structure. Luckily for them, they just needed a place to recuperate for a little bit. 

“Good find kid. Hold on!” Tony glanced back, and aimed two repulsor bombs from the soles of his suit at Strange, knocking him away with a blast powerful enough to decimate a village. Through the uproar, he cut down, dropping into one of the pipes, while simultaneously scanning the whole system schematic. He had every path down, and carefully zipped through to find a safe and stable place to rest. 

When he deemed them lost to the maze enough, he placed the spider down. He didn’t miss the wince that escaped him. “Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” Spider-Man tried to scramble away from him, but Tony caught a glimpse. Turns out, some- a lot of the shrapnel from the blast Tony caused had embedded into the spider’s chest and legs.  

Tony’s heart rate picked up as panic hit him full force. He immediately surged forward, letting the suit melt away to assess the damage. But Spider-Man pushed him away, crawling up the already destabilised walls. Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Hey,hey look, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I know that.”

“I just wanna help. Lemme just-”

“I know you’re trying to help. That’s precisely what I don’t want!” The emotion behind the kid’s voice, the pain…it struck Tony. He ached all over with the desire to make it all go away. To erase such notes of sorrow from such a young voice. “You-You don’t have to Mr. Stark. I’m perfectly fine. Ribs healed already. This’ll just- this’ll just take a second.” The breathlessness in his voice had another wave of panic overtake him. 

“Please kid. Listen to me. I know shrapnel injuries, remember,” Tony pointed at his own chest, where once the arc-reactor and now the nanohub lay. “Please, let me just heal you. I can’t- I can’t have another explosion I caused, hurt people…” As Tony’s voice trailed off, Spider-Man’s eyes widened. He loosened his grip on the ceiling and lowered himself, landing petitely on the floor. 

“Thank you,” Tony said, as he formed a gauntlet and eye mask to scan where the injuries lay. Multiple minute cuts laced the kid’s skin and muscles, but thankfully nothing too close to a major artery. Tony quickly sprayed nanobots along the injured sides, that gelled his cuts together and pulled the shrapnel out. 

Tony couldn’t help himself as he explained the process behind what they were doing. Mostly to keep himself distracted. He slowly rubbed his thumb over the kid’s hand, trying to soothe him as he realised this was the closest he could remember ever being to the kid. Still somewhere in his mind he knew, there was more to it. The familiarity with which he fell into the motion brought to question how comfortable they could be. That is, until the bots finished up and Tony’s ramble drew to an end. 

Tony sat still, eyes wide, hoping the kid wouldn’t give in and pull away. And for a second, it looked like he wouldn’t. For a second, behind those masked eyes, Tony hoped he didn’t want to pull away anymore either. Tony hoped he’d let them look out for him. 

“Thank you Mr Stark, that’s…I feel much better.” The kid reluctantly let go, and Tony held back from pulling him in, letting the kid make his choice and pull back.  

“Nothing to it. I could show you how they’re programmed at my lab sometime, if you want.” Tony leaned back and tried to gather his wits about him. “Alright, so…war of worlds wizard up there doesn’t seem too keen on talking.” 

“Yeah, that Stephen’s hostile.”

“We need to figure out a way to get out of this place, get some help or something.” 

“Well, we can’t contact Dr. Strange from our universe.” Spider-Man crawled the wall and sat upside down as he brought a hand to his chin in thought. Tony couldn’t help the fondness seeping through him. “And anyway, we need America’s help to pass through.”

“There’s no way we’re going to be stuck here. There must be something in that wizard batcave that can help us, right?” Tony had an idea of where the Sanctum might be. He pulled up schemes on his gauntlet. 

“Wizard batcave…?” Spider-man snorted to himself, “Mr Stark, even if we did get there, we don’t know how to use any of the spells or-” Just then the ground began to tremble as Spider-man jumped down and got into a defensive position in front of Tony’s rapidly forming suit. The entire system around them crumbled as purple magical forces dragged the rubble away and opened a gaping hole above them. There floating on lightning, was evil Strange, a menacing look to him. 

“There you are. Disgusting hiding place by the way.” He scoffed. Spider-man quickly fired a web at the wizard, seeking to blind him as Iron Man grabbed him and they escaped, but then the strangest thing happened. 

Stranger than an evil Strange. 

A third eye opened on the wizard’s forehead. Both Spider-man and Tony groaned with disgust just as Strange blasted magic at them, floating them off the ground in an encased ball of energy. “Hey there, Strange. You’ve got- You’ve got an eye right there bud.” Strange sneered at them and flung them ahead of him. “You should really get that checked out.”

A series of hand movements later and they were suddenly landing rump first onto a dingy, dungeon floor. Tony immediately got up to blast the cell doors, but no gauntlet formed around him. His hands scrambled at his chest, only to find the nano casing was missing. He looked around, hoping to see Spider-man, but his head crushed against the bars of the cell as Strange descended the stairs and held him up for inspection with his magic. 

“Ah. You are Tony Stark.” He drawled. 

“Where the fuck is the kid? Where’s my suit? Let us go you dick.” He glared at the fingers approaching. They grasped his face, between slender, long, ice-cold fingers, that forced him to look into his tomb-grey eyes. Tony fought back his shiver as the doppelganger of the man he loved studied him. 

“You’re different from your namesake of this universe.”

“Different how? Pretty sure he must have thought you a dick too.”

Strange chuckled darkly. “Oh. Oh yes, he did. In fact, we were sworn enemies.” His emotionless eyes were eerie accompanied by his wide smile. “I had him slobbering for my affection, but he was so tied to his rigid worldview. Which is why I greatly enjoyed ripping him apart, limb from limb, first chance I got.” The blood drained from Tony’s face as he struggled further against his hold. 

“Let me go, you asshole. Let us go. We want nothing to do with you, or this place. We just want to get home.”

Strange regarded him for a second, before abruptly dropping him. “Yes. Yes, I know. You are lacking in comparison to the Stark I knew.” He paced before him slowly, “You’re practically primitive.” 

Tony growled out, “Where’s my suit? Give it back and we can go a couple of rounds, see who’s primitive then.”

Strange flicked his wrist, crashing Tony against the side of the cell wall as he moved past him, to the other cell. Tony collapsed, clutching his aching side. “But this one. I don’t know him.”

“Stay away from him,” Tony wheezed out.  Strange completely disregarded him. 

“He’s stronger than you. Physiologically. Mutated DNA. That’s interesting- Oh! He’s waking up!” Strange spoke with almost genuine curiosity, as if the subjects of his scrutiny weren’t actual people, but just another specimen waiting to be picked apart. Tony felt sick with how he recognized the tone from his own emulations. He heard Spider-Man groan as he slowly came to in the other cell . He went from groans of consciousness, to panicked breaths. “And who might you be?”

“Where’s my-Where’s my suit? Where’s…Mr Stark!” The kid banged against the prison bars. “Where’s Mr Stark? Tony? TONY! What’d you do, you sick bastard?” The kid sneered at the villain. 

“Now, now. There’s no need to be so hostile.” Strange chastised. 

“Where’s Mr Stark? Tell me right NOW!” The kid raged on, straining against the bars as his voice echoed through the walls. Tony knew he had to gather himself quickly. 

“Hey! Hey kid. I’m okay.”

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark, you’re okay!” The relief that bled into his voice soothed Tony as he sat up and breathed through his pain. 

“Yeah. I'm okay, kid. Don’t worry. Don’t- Don’t answer any of his questions kid.” Tony warned. 

“Well, isn’t that just touching? Your father cares so much for you, kid.” Strange mocked,cocking his head to the side and peering at the two.

“He’s not…We’re- What do you want?” Spider-Man prompted. 

“Bub,bub,bub. I ask the questions here. And if you do not wish to answer,” Strange suddenly surged forward, clinging to the bars of the cell in a black mist, leading Spider-Man to scurry back. “Then I’ll just have to take them from you.”

“Stay the hell away from him, Strange!” But Tony could only helplessly claw at the walls as Spider-Man’s agonised cries rang through. Strange sent a wave of red magic, not unlike the Scarlet Witch’s, at the superhero dangling in the cell by his magic. Spider-Man’s memories, his sadness, his pain, his anger and all his churning emotions coursed through him and out his chest through the tendrils of power, while his screams rang through the Sanctum. Tony matched them with cries and pleas, begging Strange, begging the universe, begging for Stephen…for anything to save them. To make the evil sorcerer stop. 

“Such pain! Such misery! Such sorrow! All your family, your very memory, erased! You seethe with such…such agony!” Strange seemed to be fuelled by the despair he was pulling from the boy, the weight of his memories and the darkness in his past tasting like the most divine elixirs to the hateful man. “All you’ve ever loved, hurt and killed. Because of you…Peter Parker!” The utterance of the superhero’s secret identity had the boy letting out a final defeated shrill scream, before he collapsed to the floor, a writhing, crying, aching mess. 

The final tendrils of power seeped back into Strange as sucked in a sharp breath and sighed. “Hah. That was exactly what I needed.” He tilted his head and caught Tony’s gaze of utter loathing. “Now, let’s see what you have to offer.” 

America quickly scrambled off the floor, keeping her eyes on Wanda as she floated off the high pedestal. 

“This isn’t what your children would want.” 

She was flung onto the altar flat, wrists bound by magical red tendrils of power, abating her struggles. Panting with panic, surrounded by large, icicle, tentacled demon creatures as Wanda stalked towards her. A predator circling prey. She looked almost serene. America’s struggles were useless.

She came to the head of the table, and reassured her, “They’ll never know.”

America felt bitterness and anger take over her. “Maybe not. But you will.” A desperate attempt to speak to Wanda’s consciousness. Wanda looked up, like the weight of her actions was dawning upon her. Like it had eaten away at her body, and she knew. Yet she smiled. 

With a powerful flick of her fingers, Wanda began extracting the multiversal powers from the girl while simultaneously removing her of her agency. Keeping her trapped not only through physical torture of pulling her soul’s powers out of her, burning through her skin, but also all her worst memories, over and over again. Each time she had jumped through a universe and had a bad experience, each time someone had died at her behest. Her various fumbling attempts at making friends, at having a semblance of family, only for it to be wrenched away from her, forever. Her powers, her life force, all drained from her, while her screams rang through the universe, begging for release.

Stephen, Stark and Parker fell through the multiversal portal with a graceless thump, crashing into each other. Stephen found himself barred underneath Stark’s body, his weight a strong, reassuring force above him. He couldn’t help thinking back to his dream earlier that day (was it still the same day?) where they had been in a position not unlike this one, except there Tony had been flushed with pleasure rather than trussed up by a fight with a maniacal witch. In there he had been thrusting into Stephen, taking every opportunity to kiss any available inch of his skin. Here, Stark’s breath came out in hot and damp pants as he gathered himself from the situation, still grasping with what had happened. Stephen composed himself, keeping his arms up and to his sides, giving way for the man to get up on his own. 

“Dad! Dad, you alright?” 

“Pete?” Stark startled up, causing Stephen to groan as his sides were unceremoniously elbowed. The alternate Iron Man didn’t seem to care as he scrambled up and made his way into his son’s arms, desperately calling out for the boy he had thought to be lost forever. “Peter! Pete, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m- Dad, hey.” Parker gently held his father’s hands in his, calming his frantic fussing. “I’m fine Dad. See, all good. I’m okay. I’m okay.” Father and son placed their foreheads together, Stark’s closed eyes letting his tears crawl down his cheek. 

A raw chuckle escaped his throat, “I remember when you were shorter than me sprout.” He looked up at his grown son. “Oh Pete.” 

Stephen peeled his eyes away from the tender scene. No need to help me up, he thought to himself, though his cloak helped levitate him to a stand. One glance up and he saw what Stark and Parker were now gaping at. 

“Oh, no. Oh crap.” All around them, space and time seemed to be crumbling. The destitute land singed and the buildings slowly turned to dust. Not a single soul roamed the streets, not that any sane person would try.

Stark’s eyes blazed as he turned to Stephen. “This. It’s reality collapsing in on itself.” 

“Or two realities colliding,” Parker interjected thoughtfully. Stark kept his gaze firm on Stephen. He had heard the reprimand in his tone, but the scenery before him had his insides turning, curling with fear. 

Where’s Tony and Spider-Man? Are they safe? Are they here? Could they survive here? 

His mind muddled with questions and worries, but he took a steadying breath and proceeded ahead. 

“Cmon, America doesn’t have long.” Stark and Parker exchanged a look. The son shrugged and they followed. 

“So…where are we going?” The young man inquired. 

“If there’s a sanctum there might be…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence, the implication clear, sending a tangible shiver through Stark’s spine. Stephen ached to see his reaction to another variant of the man he loved. Despite their son being alive, Stephen supposed it made sense that the effect the man had on him would leave him so rattled. 

“I can see why you're so worried about incursions.” Stephen agreed, trying to show he had acknowledged Stark’s words. 

Stark scratched at his goatee, his suit moving to reveal his fingertips. “Whatever happened, this universe’s you didn’t do a very good job of stopping it.” Stephen did his best not to take that as a stab at him, but rather as the observation it was.  

“I’ll let him know you said that—” His attempt at humour fell flat with the thought that maybe he caused it. As much as Stephen believed himself to be good, believed his calling to be saving people, healing people,  helping people. Whether that was as a doctor or superhero, he knew the truth could often differ. His throat hurt with his next words, “Based on what I now know…my propensity for evil is…terrifying.” Even when he was a doctor, he had fallen into vanity and materialistic manners so easily. He ached to think about the number of lives he could have saved had he not been a pompous ass. He pained to think of the number of lives he had doomed. Invariably, he had killed them. He carried that guilt even now. 

Stark took in a breath, contemplating whether he should say something, but before he could, Parker piped up. “Hold on,  guys. There’s something up here.” Stephen and Stark followed Parker as he crawled low and seemed to be tracking something. 

“Pete, what’re you doing?” 

“I got really good at hunting in the Gap Junction. The creatures in there Dad. I’ve gotta tell you about them, they’re-”

“Peter, please.” Stephen interrupted the kid’s excited ramblings, trying to bring him back to task. Stark simply looked upon him fondly. 

“Right! Yeah, anyway. There’s a scent here, a couple actually. They’re distinct. Fresh. Distressed.” Stark’s mask reappeared on his face, as he made to fly up, but Stephen placed a tentative arm on him. 

“Better to keep close to the ground. We don’t wanna get on any radars.” Stark nodded, taking to his scanner. 

“You’re right, kid. There’s tracks here and they lead…all the way into that ditch. Something big happened there.” 

Stephen followed the family to what seemed to be a collapsed subway structure. Stephen felt the remnants of giant magical power still floating in the place. Powerful, dark magic. Whatever was at play here was clearly hostile and dangerous. For a moment, Stephen wondered if it was the Scarlet Witch. Had she been looking for them? Or what had she found here? 

“Dad?”

Parker turned to Stark, holding up some red garment. Stephen floated closer, he felt the cloak quiver upon his shoulders. THe father-son duo turned to him, faces solemn as they held the fabric up. In a moment, Stephen’s heart stopped. 

The garment clearly belonged to Spider-Man. The slightly tacky, shimmery cheap cloth brought forth a slew of emotions in Stephen. His hands shook even more than usual, the tremors coupled with the unbridled fear that gripped him. 

“Stephen…?” Stark was trying to reach out for him, but the sorcerer flinched away. A bitter lump formed in his throat as he thought of how the man was able to reunite with his son and here Stephen was, losing his entire world. If whatever had caused damage to Spider-Man, then what of Tony? Would the Iron Man armour protect him enough? Stephen shook his head, in an attempt to rid himself of the images filtering through his mind’s eye. The intrusive grisly scenes made his stomach roil. Knowledge of what the witch could do with her powers…with her hatred! 

“Stephen! Snap out of it!” Stark was crouched on the balls of his feet, at Stephen’s level. The taller man hadn’t even realised when he had stooped down. “Get a hold of yourself man.” 

“They’re- This is- I know this suit. The people from my universe. They were here.” Stephen raised his eyes to meet Stark’s. “My Tony was here. They- They could be-” 

“They could be fine,” Parker interrupted. “Their scent doesn’t end here. It picks up faintly, 15 klicks due east.” Within a moment’s notice, Stephen was on his feet, the cloak providing him speed as the trio zoomed in the direction. 

Instead, they came face to face with the initial object of their quest. 

“The sanctum.” 

Stephen’s face darkened immediately. “What’s left of it.” 

Stark rematerialized his suit while Parker checked his gear. “Look, you take the guardian of this sanctum, we’ll round back and track where your folks are. Don’t worry Bones, we’ll find them.”

“Get them safe Stark. Don’t bother about me. Just- get them out of here.” Stark regarded him for a moment before he grunting in reply and took off. Parker gave him a quick salute. 

“I know you’re not my dad. That goatee would never fly with him. But, it was good seeing you.” Before Stephen could even respond the young man fired off after his father. Despite their subtle departure Stephen was sure the residents of the dilapidated sanctum were made aware. His suspicion was confirmed when the gates brushed open eerily for him. 

He made his way through the degraded foyer, unperturbed by its nature. The winding stairs that were already grandiose in Stephen’s own universe, were here long and fading into cloudy arenas above. The odd thing was how unresponsive the Sanctum was to him. Back home, the Sanctum was like a second layer of skin, so used to him, so accommodating and comfortable. He loved his place. It had a personality of its own. Even adapted to the presence of Tony once he became a regular visitor. It would keep the coffee pot particularly out of reach and the icecream was always right in the front. On particularly hard days, where Stephen’s hands would ache sharply with even the slightest of movement, the Sanctum would block out sorcerers trying to gain access to him for superfluous matters, bringing his heated gloves to the forefront and gliding him on the floorboards to bed. 

This sanctum felt…shrivelled. Like it had had the very essence of it sucked out of it. 

But Stephen didn’t have time to dwell. He made his way up the stairs, purposely taking his time. At the moment, he knew he was the most powerful entity that had entered the premises. Thus, he was hoping the interests of the occupants would be deviated only to him, preparing only for him, giving the alternate superheroes time to complete their rescue. 

He deliberated on every step, wondering what he was to expect. He intently did his best to keep his mind off any other matters, instead bringing America to the forefront of his mind. He pained to think what Wanda was doing to her. The loss of morals the woman was experiencing in her craze, to think she was willing to sacrifice so much of the world for her children…Now that Stephen thought about it, some part of him could understand. Not that it justified what she was doing, not in the slightest. 

But after coming face to face with the complexities of a Stephen Strange under the power of the DarkHold, he understood. He supposed, the DarkHold took your most pained desire and intensified it, to lengths deranged and devastating. And that internal devastation spelled c catastrophe for their universe. Stephen couldn’t help but wonder, after years of training, after all the time and turmoil put into honing his mindset, how was he able to become prey to the DarkHold in the first place? But the answer lay therein. Those Stephen’s that were corrupted, had something to live for, and conversely, then had something to be taken from them. Something for them to love and desire. For Wanda it was her children, for Supreme Strange it was Stark and Parker. 

And Stephen had no one. No one and nothing. 

He scoffed. Funny how, the solution to the prevailment of his universe apparently lay in his eternal loneliness. Cosmic jokes really put the punch in punchline. 

Steeling his pity session, Stephen forced himself to get it together. At present, he had to remember he was a sorcerer and protector of his world before anything else. And right now, there was a young, frightened child with the weight of the entire multiverse, relying on him to save her. And that was his goal, before anything else. Before any other wandering commitments his mind could conjure. 

He had finally arrived at the threshold of the relic room, now instead filled with stacked books and music cue sheets, dusty piles of junk and sheets. The place seemed bare and packed in, and Stephen wondered if anyone actually remained in the sanctum, or if this world was entirely lost. 

“Hello?” 

“Stop where you are!” Stephen looked up sharply. Coming down from the bedroom stairs was a dark figure, clad in shadows and green, obscured from his view. But, Stephen immediately, distinctly knew who it was. “How, did… you get here,” he spoke haltingly. 

“By accident.” Stephen kept it concise.  

“Who are you? What are you?” This alternate universe’s Stephen Strange stepped out from the cover of the barrister, pale and gloomy, a long, trimmed beard adorned his face, pulled into a single hook. He looked tired, he sounded worn. 

“I’m just one of us.”  

“From the Multiverse?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Stephen pondered for a bit. It was a fair ask, the worlds were ridden with deception. But what could Stephen possibly…oh. He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat, as it always did with this memory. “We had a sister. Donna. She uh- she died when we were kids.” 

“How?” Stephen never talked about this, let alone thought about it. 

We were playing on a frozen lake, and- she fell through the ice…I couldn’t save her.” He remembered the words of his neighbours, his community. You were a child. It’s not your fault. But it was the words of his parents that stuck more. Their cries, their questions, their rage and pain. WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE HER? WHY DIDN’T YOU DO SOMETHING? 

But Stephen had tried. He had tried, but it was too late. Or he was too unlearned to know what to do. He carried the weight of her life slipping away with him forever. It was the single driving force behind his need to become a doctor, and well, over the years, the bitterness of his household after Donna, did much to add to his reasons. Med school was his escape, funnily enough. His redemption. And yet here he was, in an alternate universe, a sorcerer with the clock ticking away on his ability to save another young girl. 

“Sounds about right.  But we don’t talk about that do we?” His variant shook his head wistfully. “No, we don’t.”

Stephen took that as a good sign that they were in the clear, taking careful steps towards the other. However, the forlorn Strange kept a watchful distance. “I suppose your reality wasn’t always like this,” Stephen tried to ease the tension.   

“I suspect it was somewhat like yours- until…” Strange held his head down, a weariness about him that was bespoke regret. 

 “Until?” Stephen prompted, a particular feeling crawling up his spine. 

“Until I lost-” 

“To whom?” Stephen’s heart thrummed, wondering if whatever evil had vanquished this universe and left his variant so defeated, was the one that had Tony and Spider-Man in its hold.

The Strange variant instead turned, showing his back to his guest for the first time. He took careful steps towards the light streaming in through the sanctum eye. As if the brightness of it would fade in his presence. “What do you want?” 

Stephen didn’t bother playing around with his intentions. “I wanna get home.”

“I’ve been tryna leave for a long time.” He dragged his words out, turning towards Stephen to throw him a dejected look. His robe drifted to the side, and Stephen was struck by two observations. One that this Strange did not possess a Cloak of Levitation. And the other…that clipped to his belt was the DarkHold. 

This was bad. This was very, very bad. 

“You guard the DarkHold?” Stephen couldn’t help the lilt of accusation that coloured his tone. Wanda, Superior Strange, Mordo, all who came in contact with the DarkHold were corrupted somehow. All of them spelt trouble for him and his cause. 

Instead of answering him, Strange was…strangely calm. He raised his arm, splaying his fingers through the beams of light coming through the window, playing around with them. Stephen felt his anxiety and impatience rise, the thought of Tony and Spider-Man suddenly striking him. 

“Are you happy, Stephen?”

“What?” Stephen was taken aback. 

“Are you happy, Stephen?” The variant reiterated. He pulled his arm back, observing it close to his body.  “It’s the question…Christine Palmer asked me at her wedding.” He turned with a flourish. 

“I said ‘Yes, of course I’m happy. I’m a sorcerer with the power of gods. What man wouldn’t be happy?’ And then I came back to this goddamn, haunted house, sat down, and wondered why I’d lied.” His tone grew dark and cold, rough and torn by the weight of his misery.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” Stephen was hit by the realisation that this was another twisted version of him. Struck once more by the concern as to how easily- corruptible he was. “I was looking for a world where things were different. Where I had Christine. Where there was no annoying Stark. Where I was happy.” Tendrils of purple tinted magic flowed around the man. 

“But I didn’t find it. All I found were more of us. So I did those Stephens a favour.” Stephen prepared himself by getting into a fighting stance, praying that the alternate Iron Man and Spider-Man had gotten his loved ones to safety already. “You ever had that dream where you’re falling as if you’ve been pushed off a tall building?”

 Strange took on his offensive position, a sickening grin plastered on his face as a third- freaking- eye! Opened on his forehead. “That was probably me.” 

Stephen stood, flabbergasted. Dude was fucking ugly. That eye looked disgusting up there. As if reading his mind, Strange shrugged. “The DarkHold exacts a heavy toll.”

“Okay,” Stephen tried to reason. “All the more reason to give it a rest and let me have it.” 

“Here’s the deal.”  Strange let the DarkHold float up off his belt above him. “I’ll let you use the DarkHold, if you give me your Christine.” 

“Yeah I don’t think she’s gonna go for that.”  

“No? Didn’t think so.” He attacked Stephen with a bare moment of notice. He conjured up a shield and blocked him, striking back just as fast, trying not to cave under the baffling strength behind his magic. 

But Stephen wasn’t about to let him know that. “How about you tell me where my friends are, give me the DarkHold, and I won’t kill you. In fact, maybe I’ll help you get rid of that nasty looking bulb you got on your head. I’m a doctor you know.” 

“Oh really?” Strange struck back, blasting a pile of books beside him. “Those were friends of yours? That Iron Man and Spider thing,” Somehow, even more enraged, he coarsely yelled. “I sucked the soul out of them. Only a weak Strange would be friends with the likes of an Iron Man.” 

Stephen screamed, buffing a spell thrown at him and returning one renewed by his anger. “You’re lying!” He saw some notes on a cue sheet and an idea formed. 

No more games. Time to finish this. 

Across the Sanctum, in a dungeon lesser known to most, both Tony and the newly revealed Peter lay crumpled on the floor, panting for breath. Tony could hear soft sobbing coming from the cell beside him, and more than the thoughts racing through his mind of what this alternate version of Strange had taken from him; of how his lips had curled in cruel pleasure as he revelled in years of Tony’s pain and grief; he was more concerned about the kid. 

Despite his aching ribs and joints, Tony scraped himself off the prison floor towards the wall connecting him to Spider-Man’s cell. “Hey, um, Peter?” His reply was a renewed gasping sob from the child, as if his name being called made him hurt all the more. Tony ached to think of what could have caused such pain. What could have led the kid to grow sorrowful by his own name being called? 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll- Spider-Man, right? I promise to keep your identity safe kid.” 

Tony heard shuffling from across, and then a thump before the kid’s voice came from where he was leaning against the conjoined wall. “What’s the point?” The utter dejection in his voice was startling. 

Tony fiddled with his bionic arm. Before leaving, Strange had tried to rip it off his body, just to add to his sick display of fun, before some unknown presence called his attention. He left Tony folded in on himself, clutching his shoulder, before making it out of the area without another glance. “Hey, c’mon now. It's not…It can’t be that bad having someone know your identity. This is a good thing. I can help you.” 

Peter’s resounding wince had Tony flinching. 

“Mr Stark…” Tony didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t do anything that could perturb the kid from opening up, unaware of just how intently he wanted to know even just a sliver of the kid’s life. “You said that last time too.” And that was the sucker-punch. 

“What?” he choked out.

Peter sighed. “I guess there’s nothing to it really. I- A while back, I was on a field trip to Europe. You and Mr. Strange were super excited for me. You guys helped me pick out what gift that I was…I-” Peter’s voice kept struggling, like the words were razors cutting up his throat to come out. Peter took in an encouraging breath. “My identity was revealed. To the whole world, in fact, by this evil douchebag called Quentin Beck. He- well, to reverse it, I asked for Mr. Strange’s help. You were off collecting all the drones that Mysterio had commandeered, and we were trying to make it work Da-” Peter’s head thumped on the back of the wall. 

Then in a moment, he growled with rage and started pummeling the ground and the wall behind him, his cries of anguish echoing through the dungeons and bringing tears to Tony’s eyes. 

“Kid, hey please. C’mon, don’t- don’t hurt yourself. It’s okay Pete, don’t tell me anything. Forget about it.” But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because then Peter let out a pained cry and collapsed, properly sobbing into his arms. 

“They- they did. Everyone forgot me. No one…my girlfriend, Happy, Dr Strange, you…you forgot about me. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye to you. I lost…I lost Aunt May, Mr. Stark.” He cried. He cried like he hadn’t for ages, keeping it all in and soldiering on. 

All Tony wanted to do was reach through these bars and wrap Peter in his arms. Hug him till all the pain went away and protect him from anything the world had to throw. He ached with the need to do it.  “I’m so sorry Peter.” 

“You guys were…” Peter did his best to compose himself, “You were together. Before- before it all went down.” 

That caused Tony to fumble in his ministrations, mind reeling. “What?”

“You helped me…And now I’m the reason why you’re not together. Why you’ve forgotten everything.” 

“What do you mean? The spell-” 

“Made you forget me entirely. And all events relating to me. Like the Vulture, the Staten Island Ferry incident?” Tony tried his damndest to remember anything relating to that, but all he drew was a blank. “Yeah you definitely don’t remember. When- When I was in Europe, you guys were pretty much like helicopter parents.” That got him a weak chuckle as Tony went back to fiddling with his bionic arm. “You convinced Stephen he needed a vacation, which basically meant spying on me.” 

“Uh…” 

Peter laughed, and in some odd way Tony felt better for having lightened the kid’s mood in some way at least. “Yeah. Pretty sure you don’t remember any of the elemental attacks in Europe either, do you?” When Tony couldn’t reply, another final thump of Peter's head on the wall sounded. “Figures. Spell was really thorough.”

“Kid, I’m… I’m so sorry. You didn’t- you don’t deserve that. Why didn’t you come looking for us after?”

Peter didn’t reply for a while and Tony waited with mild panic, wondering if he had succumbed to his injuries. But then, with a voice more strained and torn than ever before, he said “Because everyone around me dies.” Tony's heart clenched, tears gathering in his own eyes due to the strife reflecting in this far too young child’s voice. “Aunt May,” Peter sobbed, “Aunt May died because of me. And- And the last thing she told me was that with great power, comes great responsibility. And…I feel responsible. To keep you guys safe. MJ, she was- she was my girl. She got hurt because of me. It’s just…It’s better if no one knows. No one cares. Cause then, no one can get hurt.” His voice was cut off by the emotions wracking through his body. Tony let the tears stream down his face, aching for how much this kid had been through. Trauma and grief like no one should ever have to. Even seasoned warriors didn’t carry this much, and yet here he was bearing it all alone. For so long. 

“LIsten to me, Peter. Hear my words. You are not the reason people get hurt. Even these past few months, where I didn’t know your identity, all I’ve seen is you helping and saving people. Always. People get hurt because of the actions of the bad guys, like that freak Strange outside. But that’s not on you. And you gotta- kid you gotta let people in. You can’t be alone in this gig, because that just makes it worse. For everybody.”  Tony tried, desperately, to keep his voice steady. To keep his plea for this hero, this beacon of light to humanity, to not shut himself off from the world. 

“They all get hurt, Mr. Stark.” He reasoned. 

“Well not me.” With that, Tony’s mechanism on his arm worked. Bit by bit, a number of nanobots emerged from the layers, forming a beacon for his nano unit, drawing it towards him.The others formed a blaster. “Get away from the wall kid.” He heard the scrambling, before he fired at the wall. The explosion destabilised the wall enough for him to just push through. Once he had, he stood amidst the rubble, brushing aside the dust and taking into account the state of the man before him, finally seeing his face. The young features and war torn eyes a stark contrast to each other. “I’m freaking Iron Man kid. And it’s about damn time I played big.” 

“Mr Stark…” Peter seemed reluctant, but in the next moment, he broke down, tears rushing forth as he ran towards him and embraced him in a bone-crushing hug. Tony immediately wrapped his arms around him, finally feeling right. Having the kid, safe in his arms, was right. He held him fast, placing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Nothing’s gonna keep you away from me now. I’ve got you. You’re not alone anymore kid.” He just rubbed his back, letting him take it all his frustration in a wrenching sobs. Tears escaped his own eyes as he took it all in. 

After a while, once their cries had bated, Peter pulled away. Tony used his human hand to rub away the tears remaining on his cheek, taking in how raw the skin around his eyes were. “Mr. Stark, where- uh…how are we gonna get out of here?” 

Tony looked around, wondering for a moment. “Well, the arm’s currently honing everything in towards calling out the nano unit, and those bars are protected by magic, so there’s no point in blasting them…at least not with my current firepower. I’m waiting for the nano unit to get here, and then I’ll figure it out.”

They waited for a while longer, Tony kept a hold on Peter, assessing him openly, noting how he already seemed sufficiently healed. Despite that, Tony had no intention of letting him go anytime soon. That was when he noticed Peter perk up, as if he was hearing something. “What-What is it kid?” 

“It’s …I don’t know what it is. It…It sounds like your repulsors.” Peter glanced at Tony, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. If the Strange of this universe was evil, what could be said for their alternate versions. 

Suddenly a bright, white light burst through their periphery. And Through a blast in the wall in front of them, another spider being, clad in black and gold, burst through, clinging to their dungeon bars. “Dad, they’re here!” 

“Fucking Strange and his dungeons.” Tony gasped as another version of him, clad in a white and blue armour, with an open faceplate and some form of moving headband flew through, carrying his nano unit and the Spider-Man suit. “Hey guys, the rescue’s here.” 

Tony kept Peter behind him, though the kid did struggle a bit. “Who’re you?”

The new Stark scoffed. “Seems pretty obvious doesn’t it? I’m clearly a better, handsome-er version of you.” 

It was Tony’s turn to scoff, “Yeah, sure. Just hand over the suit and get out of our way.” Stark turned his head to the side, but decided to oblige.

“You guys better hurry up. From the sounds of it, looks like your Strange is getting his ass handed to him.” Stark had a face of utter disinterest in the matter, but his voice brought forth the urgency. 

“Stephen’s here? Where is he?” Tony let the suit form around him, handing the kid his own suit. As he was slipping into it, he allowed some nanobots from his bionic arm to meld with the suit, to add another layer of protection. “Stand back fellas.” 

Tony fired at the dungeon walls, but was instead blasted back at the wall by the force. The new Stark roared with laughter while the guy in the black and gold Spider-Man stifled his own giggles. 

“They’re magic bars, man. Your mediaeval tech isn’t gonna break through.” He groaned as Peter helped him up, reassuring him that he was okay. 

“Fuck you. What’s with y’all calling my tech mediaeval. I’d like to see you try.” Tony was really sick of meeting doppelgangers. Stark huffed a last laugh before powering up his suit. 

With pleasure. Pete honey, step back.” The other Spider-kid did as he was told and Tony formed a shield around him and his own kid. Good to see asshole Stark still cared about his kid. 

While he was expecting to see a blast of energy from Stark’s repulsors, he instead saw his suit move as he blasted forth a smoother version of his tech. The thing seemed to move on its own, creeping to crevices and corners, forming a stronghold on the very walls holding the bar cells and charging them through with glowing blue energy. “Spidey, you know what to do?” The alternate Parker came forward, flinging some yellow charged items at the strands of power from Stark. They scuttled forward like tiny spiders and latched on near prison bars. They promptly began glowing with power, akin to the orange hue of the powers of the multiverse’s Stephen that Tony was familiar with. 

As the device powered up, all four individuals huddled together. “Stay close kiddo.” The walls quaked around them, debris and dust falling through as the bars glowed with opposing violent violet and runes. Stark rose off the ground even more, his eyes glowing a startling blue as he powered up to pure white light. The embers of orange light embedded deeper into the repulsor energy, seeping their magic through it till it hit the purple bars. With a resounding burst, the magic around the bars exploded, causing the two imprisoned to collapse onto their knees, the ground and walls shaking with dust and debris, chunks falling off of the bars. 

The other Stark crumpled into a heap on the floor, catching his breath. The black and gold version of Spider-Man yelled for him, “Dad!” 

“Just catching my breath. Go, go! Get them out.” Tony gathered Peter into his arms, lifting them both up and shuffling back as Spidey kick-flipped the bars of their prison down in one fell swoop. Two seconds later, as they stepped out of the nanosuit formed around Tony, and he felt like he could breathe again. He glanced at his own vitals, but did a thorough scan of Peter as he stepped into his Spider-Man suit. Other than brain waves of extreme distress and worry, the kid seemed alright. Nothing physical at least, but the rest they would address soon. 

Tony allowed himself to give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder once he was in the suit. A promise for later. Peter nodded, and that was that. 

Tony turned to his variants. “Thanks, I guess, for…getting us out.” He hated the smirk his alternate version got, but simultaneously, he couldn't help noticing how hot he looked while doing it. Another day, another reminder that he was a fine piece of ass. 

“Now, where’s Stephen?” 

Just then, they heard a disgusting shlop sound throughout the sanctum. The doppelgangers stood stock still for a moment, till finally Tony got the courage to go have a look. A thousand scenarios ran through his mind. Clearly that was the sound flesh…being pierced. Being thrown. Being destroyed. 

All he could find himself thinking, praying for was not him. Not him. Not him. Don’t let it be him. Not him. Just not him. Please.Please.Please.Please.Please.

He walked through the path their alternate selves had quite literally forged, by the looks of it, and rounded the corner to see along the far side. A suspiciously familiar body lay stabbed on the metal fence, body dripping blood and chunks of his guts down the sides of the rusting silver. 

Tony felt his heart pick up and he flew to the body. Stephen’s face was what he saw and before he could even process any other details he felt a gut-wrenching sob escape him. He landed roughly by the body, raising his hands to the face, but not touching. 

Upon closer inspection he could see that this…this was not his Stephen. Tony felt a weight the size of a moon lift off him (which was an accurate feeling he was far too familiar with). He acknowledged the alternate Spider-Man and his alternate self landing to his right, while Peter lightly touched his shoulder on the left. Tony sighed into the feeling, just about to fly through the giant sanctum eye, where his Stephen was, when all of a sudden the body in front of him twitched and a gross, slimy eye opened on his forehead, erratically looking around. 

The Starks and Spiders all screeched. Tony grabbed his Peter and flew up, away from the reanimated body. Both the alters close behind them. They burst through the destroyed sanctum window, aiming to get as far away from the body as possible. 

“Stephen? Stephen!” Tony rushed to the mound leaning against a stack of candelabras and dusty old books. Music sheets and sparks of fading magic flew around him as he struggled to right his stance. Tony grasped his shoulders not so lightly, pulling the man up. 

Stephen’s face immediately changed from the worn look of a man who had lost everything to a renewed man. “Tony…” he breathed out. 

“You…” Tony didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say. Now, knowing that they were together sometime in their past, knowing that these feelings he had been harbouring like a dirty secret, like a fading lantern light at tumultuous seas…knowing they were reciprocated at some point…made his heart swell. 

He surged forward, hugging the man, his audience and qualms all forgotten. He held him like he always wished he could, and just when he was about to letgo, the silence prevailing beyond their shared breaths too much to handle, Tony felt Stephen’s shaking arms clasp around his waist. He let the suit disengage for a while, just taking all that was this man before him. Stephen tightened his arms and melted further into the embrace, burying his face into the crook of Tony’s shoulder and taking a staggering breath of relief. 

“Stephen Strange,” Tony whispered into the wisps of hair at the base of his scalp, “You came back for us.”

“Always. Always, Tony. I- I have so much to tell you.” He almost moved from their embrace, but Tony held on a little longer. 

“Just, wait. Me too. Me too, Stephen.” Then finally they pulled back to catch each other’s gaze. Stephen saw his sincerity and Tony saw the endless devotion promised in his eyes and Tony couldn’t help it. A soft chuckle escaped and the two age-old superheroes touched their foreheads together, basking in their shared presence. Their shared safety in each other’s arms. 

“Hate to break up this tender moment,” The voice of Superior Iron Man cut through. The heroes jolted apart, their bubble suddenly crumbling. “But we do have work to do.” 

He powered up his suit as his eyes glowed slightly blue. He aimed at them, “More like you have work to do. Stephen Strange, You’re gonna take that DarkHold, and you’re gonna portal us back to our universe, one way or another.”

It was then that Stephen was brought back into their harsh reality. “The DarkHold…” 

“ Now I don’t care how you do it mister,” He watched as Stephen stumbled towards the books, everyone tensing up as his fingers brushed over the cover. “But send us back and then you will forget about our universe for good. Promise to never come back. We don’t need the likes of you there ever again.”

Tony was shocked by the vicious tone this dude was sporting. “Hey! Back off Jimmy Neutron! What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Stephen held Tony back from going off on…well himself in a way. Tony took notice before dropping down to his knees beside him, not only were Stephen’s hands, but his entire frame was trembling. He seemed hesitant to open the book. 

“They’re right.” Stephen’s eyes seemed vacant and haunted. “They were afraid of me, Tony. Maybe there’s a reason.” 

“Hey, you listen to me, Stephen Strange. People will always be afraid of what they do not understand. But if there’s one thing I know to be true, it's that Dr. Strange always does his best.”

“This is what Dr. Strange’s best looks like!” He pointed around erratically at the desolate universe storming around them. 

“No! This is what his best looks like. I know you Stephen Strange. You’re the best of them. You’re the best of us all.” Tony said his words like a prayer, clutching onto Stephen’s robes and squeezing him, emphasising his point. 

Stephen was startled out of his spiral by Tony’s words. It struck him, Tony saying that about him when quite literally the million iterations of the war with Thanos proved that that was true for Tony. For Iron Man, the best superhero that ever existed. The most crucial element of his own universe. 

To hear what he so strongly believed about the man, be directly towards him by the very same. Stephen was taken aback by how truly pure Tony was. “You’re always good. In any universe. You always know just what to say.”

Tony blushed furiously but rolled his eyes, “I can’t see that being true. I mean just look at this guy.” They both looked up to see Stark still being a pompous prick as both Parkers tried to abate him. 

Stephen shared one last meaningful look with Tony before springing headfirst into action. He opened the DarkHold, a wave of dark energy surged through the room, stunning them all. Stephen quickly recovered, flipping through the pages trying to find a spell that could help them. Now that they had saved Tony and the Spider, Stephen could put aside his worry and focus on saving America. The child needed him, needed them. And if he were to prove Tony’s belief in him to be well-founded, he was going to save that child. No matter what it takes.

He finally found the spell. Yes, that could work. He started setting up the ritual, floating candles and books to form the circle around him. Bit by bit he summoned the forces and strength of the DarkHold, and blasted that energy out into the multiverse. A network of universes floated before him, and he quickly sifted through them to find theirs . The one he needed. The one where he knew Wanda was housing America. 

 Stark was breaking through the restraints of the spiders without much effort, seething at Stephen’s actions. “What are you doing with the DarkHold? Are you going to dreamwalk?”

Stephen tilted his head, “Slightly more than just dreamwalking.” 

“All you Stranges, you’re the same.” That struck Stephen, but Tony pounced at his alternate self in his defence.

“Yeah they are. They all protect what they love and they do it fiercely.” Starrk stumbled a few steps back with his words, “Your Strange probably did too, but you were too big of a dick to realise it.” 

“Tony…”

Stark rallied up to him, “You know nothing!”

“Oh yeah?” 

Stephen had had it, “He looked Stark right in the face as he yelled, “Enough!” He sighed, “You are right. We are all the same. But right now, that kid needs me. She needs us,” He saw Stark deflate at his words, his anger and disgust fizzling out at the reminder of America. He turned to Tony,  “And I can’t do any of this on my own. I need your help.” 

Tony gave his shoulder a squeeze while Stark groaned, but acquiesced. Tony chimed in, “What do you need Stephen?”

And just like that, they were all business. “While I’m under, I need you to protect my body. In case they attack me for trespassing.”

He began forming the symbols with his hands for the spellwork, rapidly going through them and establishing a powerful channel for his consciousness to exit his body and travel through the multiverse. He felt the tendrils of the DarkHolds’s allure coursing through him, flashes of the Supreme Strange’s misdemeanours and cruel actions towards his likeness flitted about, while whispers of dark supernatural beings started tickling his ear. 

“Wait, who’s ‘they’?” inquired Spider-Man.

Stephen inhaled, clearing his head, and floating in the air, cross- legged within the circle of candles. He casually threw out, “The Souls of the Damned.”

All four doppelgangers blanched. 

Stark quickly recovered, mask forming around his face as all four of them surrounded Stephen in a protective circle. “Okay but, doesn’t a version of you need to live in that universe? So you can dreamwalk into them.” 

Stephen felt the magic slowly taking hold of his body, black inky ooze swarming around the edges of his mind’s eye. He popped one eye open, a slight smirk forming on his lips as he said, “Who said they had to be living?”

Then it went all black.