My Head is Warm, My Feet are Cold
If this were a story, this would be the moment the reader would be warned of what’s to come and encouraged to turn back. If this were a story, it would be like the one in Book IX of the Odyssey, with the lotuses or maybe the one in Book XII, with the sirens. Like one of those absolutely epic tales where some war-weary hero takes almost ten years to get home after facing monsters and gods and death. But this was not a story.
So Tony heard no warnings as he gaped at the smug Dumbledore standing between his pasta machine and garlic press. No all-knowing author cautioned him as he got up from the table and walked over to the uninvited Wizard of Waverly Place. In fact, the only person standing between Tony and Magic-Man Steve (aptly named after that discount children’s magician Tony once tried to hire for Morgan’s 5th birthday party) was a mild-mannered Laura Barton, who seemed just as shocked as Tony at the intruder’s abrupt (rude) arrival. In the background, Tony heard Bruce checking over a fainted Fred’s vitals while Morgan was repeatedly asking Ben a question with increasing volume and concern. And Tony was interested in all of that, very much, but at the moment, he found himself in a staring contest with a sorcerer he was trying not to punch.
“I don’t know how they do it at Hogwarts, but breaking and entering is typically something us common folk still look down on.”
I mean, the absolute audacity of this man. Tony just wanted one fucking day without chaos. One fucking day where he didn’t have to think about anything but making dinner with his family and beating his children at video games. (Child. His child in video games. Singular. Dammit.)
“As you can see, we’re very busy here, Count Chocula—fainting, Italian food, the works. Come back never.”
“Stand down, Tones.” He heard Rhodey murmur behind him. “We called him for help.” Tony blinked and broke eye contact to look at his friend incredulously.
“I’m sorry. Did I hear that right? Did you say you called knock-off Gandalf and his levitating poncho to my house when I specifically asked you not to not just six hours ago?”
The wizard snorted. “Do you practice your insults in front of a mirror, Stark, or were you just born with that genius wit?”
Rhodey put up his hands as if he were calming a wild animal. “We talked about this at the hospital. You were overruled. We all thought it would be for the best. Head wounds that close after glowing orange are out of Bruce’s and Cho’s jurisdiction.”
Tony hissed, “And how many ways did I need to say it before you all listened to me? I don’t want him anywhere near my family.”
Rhodey didn’t back down. “And how many ways did I need to say you are being unreasonable? I promised you, Tones. I promised that I would do what’s best for you and Morgan no matter what, even if you fought me all the way. I have no idea why you are angry with Strange. You don’t even know why you are angry with him. You can’t hold weird, inexplicable grudges against people who can do magic just because you woke up one day feeling like you should.”
“Watch me.” Tony sounded petulant to even his own ears. “Like I said, he did something. I don’t know what. But when I figure it out, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Stark?” Strange smirked, “Blow me to pieces?”
“I’ll slap you with a lawsuit so brutal your little magical building will be a McDonald’s by the time I’m finished.”
“Oi, Stark, quit measuring dicks and get over here.” Michelle sounded controlled, almost bored, but Tony could detect a waver in her voice. Tony turned around and headed over to the couch where Bruce had carried a still fainted Ted, Dr. Weirdo following behind.
“I can’t tell what’s wrong. Vitals look okay, heart beat is a little slower than I feel comfortable with, and he’s very clammy, but everything else is fine.” Bruce furrowed his brow. He looked at Michelle. “Is he allergic to anything? Did he say he had the flu or felt like he was getting sick?”
MJ shook her head and bit the bottom of her lip, “No. He’s not allergic to anything. He was stoked about coming and he never mentioned feeling badly. I mean, he’s been on and off sick this past year, but every time I bring it up, the loser changes the subject. I asked him if he had gone to the doctor because I was worried about how much weight he had lost and how he always seemed tired. He said he was fine.” Tony could tell she was fighting tears.
“Hmm, well—”
“DAD!” Morgan ran over, “Please! Something’s wrong with Fitz!”
Tony looked over at the table where Ben was sitting. Had been sitting. Because at the moment, he was slumped out of his chair on the floor, back against the wall, holding his head in his hands and moaning.
“Shit.” Tony went over to him as Bruce yelled back, “It could be food poisoning!”
“Fuck you, Dr. Hulk. My spaghetti is a dream.”
Benjamin’s eyes were glassy and Tony could tell he wasn’t really cognizant of what was happening in front of him. He gently pulled his hands away from his face. He gasped as they came back bloody. The stitches they had put in were breaking apart and a faint, orange glow surrounded the wound. Ben didn’t even blink when he went to touch it. Natasha kneeled down next to him. Someone (most likely Clint and Laura) had taken the rest of the kids back to the game room to give them space. Morgan protested, wanting to stay with Ben, but Lila suggested they paint each other’s nails and she sullenly agreed to go with them.
“What’s that?” Nat pointed to the wound which was still pulsating orange.
“Hopefully that’s what The Wizard of Oz is here to tell us. Strange! Get over here.”
The man in question walked over (sauntered? glided? promenaded? haughtily graced them with his weird presence? either way, it grated on Tony) and bent down to touch Ben’s head. He hummed for a second and then took out a penlight to look in his eyes. Strange closed his own and moved his hands in front of Benjamin’s face. Tony snorted and Natasha shot him a disapproving look. After a minute or two, Strange opened his eyes, looking startled and a bit more alert. While Tony relished seeing something other than smug indifference, his own heartrate picked up at the alarmed expression. Tony was still teasing out his complicated feelings for Benjamin Fitzpatrick and the mystery that surrounded him, but it seemed as if concerned would always win out. As much the kid aggravated and pushed and hid and distracted, Tony found himself itching to protect and hover and fix. He didn’t want to think about what that meant.
So he didn’t. “What’s going on, Strange?”
“Someone help me move him to the couch.” Happy and Rhodey picked up a still dissociating Benjamin and put him into his wheelchair. They pushed him towards the couch, and then transferred him onto the cushion next to Ned’s outstretched feet. Bruce was taking Ned’s blood pressure as Strange did some Dr. Who hand-wavy shit over both of them.
“This is impossible.” Strange was muttering to himself, seemingly unaware of the audience he had. “Absolutely impossible. I don’t know how—”
“Would you like to share with the class?” Tony’s patience had given up back at Caltech on that day he first set eyes on Benjamin Fitzpatrick, and he had none to spare for the man who was looking more panicky by the second.
Strange looked at Michelle who was still sitting next to Ned, holding his hand. “Do they know each other?”
She looked confused. “What?”
He interrupted, “Do. They. Know. Each. Other?”
Tony, bristling at his tone, started to object. Strange cut him off. “I don’t have time to argue about this with you, Tony. Do these two boys know each other?”
MJ cut in, “No, we’ve never seen each other before.”
“Are you sure about that? Absolutely sure?”
She hesitated, “I…I think so.”
Strange huffed and looked at the room. “Do any of you know this boy?” He gestured at Benjamin who was still staring straight ahead, who was still unmoving, whose head was still glowing.
No one said anything. A shrug. A tentative shake of the head. A few “ums.” Because how does someone answer that question when it comes to Benjamin Fitzpatrick? Benjamin Anthony Fitzpatrick whose hostility only left them feeling shaken and anxious. Fitz, who they all felt a weird, unexplainable and intense longing for. Ben, who Morgan dreamed was her brother. Spider-Man, who ran away without saying why. Who jumped in front of bullets and saved them from falling off buildings on one hand and then cussed them out and got drunk off his ass on the other.
Rhodey spoke first, looking at Strange’s anxious face. “Do you?”
“Yes? No? I…I don’t know.” He looked frustrated with himself and if they weren’t in the middle of brewing shitstorm, this would have pleased Tony greatly. As it were, however, his answer seemed to unsettle the room more.
“In all my time studying the mystic arts, I have come across many things. Things you wouldn’t believe. I have seen it all.” Tony rolled his eyes and Rhodey hit him on the arm. Strange glared, “From threats to the universe to threats to the multiverse,” (and Tony knew this wasn’t the time to geek out, but holy fuck, there was a multiverse), “I have walked among and provided protection from these things.” He sighed, the lines in his face stood out as he furrowed his brow, “There is this one spell that all those who practice the mystic arts are warned of. To my knowledge, it has only been used once or twice, and only in very specific circumstances. It is a legend, even among sorcerers.” He sat down in a chair behind him, his cloak hovering as protectively as a piece of floating fabric could. “Its real name is complicated but it’s referred to as the Guardian Tree.”
“What does it do, Mr. Strange?” Tony looked away from Ben’s blank eyes to find Morgan timidly standing next to him.
Strangle cleared his throat, “You’ve all witnessed things like time travel and healing and aliens. But there is one thing the mystic arts was never intended for and that’s to trick Death. No magic is meant to be used to bring people back to life. The Guardian Tree, however, is a spell that does just that. The caster basically ties their life force to the person they choose. When that person dies, the spell draws from the spirit of the person who cast the spell to bring them back to life. It was intended to be used for kings in battle. But there was so much risk to this spell, that it was banned and the knowledge of how to do it was lost to the ages.”
“Risks?” Tony looked at Strange who nodded.
“It is not intended to be used more than once. It is extremely dangerous for the caster and the person receiving it. Each death takes a toll on the body. The caster eventually loses enough life that they die.”
“And you think Ned did this?” MJ’s sounded skeptical.
“I know he did. But if what you’re saying is true, it shouldn’t be possible. The Guardian Tree can only be cast out of fidelity. The bond has to be strong enough to hold both lives. And that’s just a one-time thing. I’ve never heard of anyone holding the spell for this long. And if what you told me was correct about old wounds,” he looked at Bruce for confirmation, “then we’re not looking at just one resurrection, but multiple ones. The power that this required is off the charts—or the bond is just that strong. There is no way they don’t know one another. And more than that—no way that the bond they hold is anything less than fraternal.”
“You talked about risks to the caster,” Rhodey gestured at the unmoving Benjamin. “What about him? What would happen if Ned doesn’t survive?” MJ held back a sob. Natasha walked over to her and put her hand on her back.
Strange was silent for a moment. “He stays like that. They call it the Walking Torment. It’s a kind of like being in a nightmare indefinitely.” (“Who names these things? R.L. Stine?” “Shut up, Tony.”) “He would be trapped in his mind until his body deteriorated.”
“Shit.” Tony pulled a chair to sit next to Ben. He clapped his hands and looked at Strange, “Okay, then. Let’s fix it. What do we do, Rasputin?”
Strange looked annoyed. “Did you not just hear me tell you this was unprecedented? I don’t know.”
“You’ve got to have some idea,” Bruce countered as the rest of the team shared uneasy looks. “Can’t you just end the spell?”
“In theory, yes. It would leave Benjamin unprotected, but the wound still looks closed enough to heal on its own. It’d be touch and go but we could do it. But it would be up to Benjamin on whether or not he’d want to wake up.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t he?”
“The only reason I could think of the Guardian Tree being used for this long is if it were used on a subject that sought death regularly."
The implication of that sat heavy. “Someone would need to convince Ned to drop the bond while simultaneously convincing Benjamin to come out of his dream. This would need to happen at the same time. But there’s another problem.”
“Of course there is.” Tony scoffed.
“Ned is weakening very quickly. If he keeps maintaining it, he’ll be dead before finding wherever it is Benjamin went in his head to hide. Someone else needs to hold it.”
“Like, transfer the bond?” Tony asked.
Clint, who had come back into the room a few minutes ago, said sharply, “Would that even work? None of us know him—definitely not fraternally or whatever you said.”
“I don’t know what has happened here,” Tony detected a hint of guilt in Strange’s eyes and didn’t quite believe him, “but, somehow, every single one of you have a bond with this boy strong enough for this spell.” Strange looked at Tony directly. “You most of all.”
Tony didn’t want to unpack that. So he didn’t.
“So, what? I agree to donate my life force or whatever to this spell? Ned would be able to wake up but I’d need to find Benjamin in some dream world and convince him to return with me. If he doesn’t, and I drop the spell or bond or whatever, he’ll stay there forever?”
“Basically. The longer you’re in there, the weaker you’ll get. The spell has already reached its limits. If you feel like you can’t maintain it, get out. Because if you stay too long, you’ll die too.”
Voices overlapped with one another. “This just got complicated really quickly.” “Tony, I don’t think you should do this.” “Can’t you just convince Ned to let it go?” “And leave Ben like this?” “We don’t even know him.” “But apparently we do.”
“I’ll do it.” Tony stood up, ignoring the protests around him. “I’ll do it. He saved my life. He saved Morgan’s.” He put his hand on top of Morgan’s head affectionately. “We can’t leave him like this.”
Strange seemed uneasy. “I just want you to understand, Stark. I am working off of legends and books. I don’t know what you’re going to face in there. I don’t know what kind of bond Ned has been trying to maintain or how difficult it will be. This is just a theory.”
“And what do scientists do with theories? We test them. And I’m a damn good scientist.”
Rhodey walked up to Tony and put his hand on his back. “Are you sure about this, Tones?”
He watched Morgan who was at Ben’s side, holding his hand. She looked up and smiled, “It’s just like Spider-Man and Spy Girl! You can play now too, Dad!”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”