New Beginnings
Stephen Strange was tired. So, so tired. He had expended much of his magical reserves by opening up so many portals from such a far distance away, and he was sure that he would pay for it sometime soon. An overwhelming grief was consuming him, it sank into his pores like the slime from Pordesat, and made every step feel like climbing up Mount Everest and back.
He thinks that the image of Tony’s dead body (and Peter Parker's tears, desperate for his father, a father he could never claim) will be stuck in his mind for the rest of his life. He almost laughs. Photographic memory. A blessing, and a curse.
Does he get to call him Tony? This isn’t one of the timelines where he’s been gifted that shy, honest smile, and the ‘call me Tony, please, Mr. Stark gives me hives.’ Did he deserve it? He condemned the man to death after all. No, don’t think about that.
The funeral was a quiet thing. There were a few flowers, and even fewer speeches, the silence of the onlookers heavier than anything they might have said. He thinks Tony Stark would have hated this. He would have wanted smiles and smirks and laughter, with various fireworks exploding in the dark night sky while AC/DC played in the background. Or maybe he would have wanted a funeral that was small, but elegant, composed of his closest friends and family.
Once, close friends and family might have included him. Not here. Not now.
Many of the Avengers had left already, to clean up, to run back to their families, to see the people who had vanished or find the people they had vanished from, all, in some way, shape or form running away from the ripples the arc reactor had made in the water. He could still see them. Could they?
Stephen (Stephanie, Doctor Wizard, Glinda, Harry Potter) did not allow himself that luxury. He sat on the pier and stared, wondering if he could spot the telltale blue of the arc reactor glowing in the water if he thought hard enough.
He scooted onto the edge of the pier, and tried very, very hard not to tear up. “ Stark men are made of iron. What a load of bullcrap. If anything, I'd like to be made of vibranium. What about you Wizzy? No. Don't think about him.
Was it worth it? A tiny voice in his head asks. Was it worth everything? Think of the economic collapse, the food shortages, the permanent deaths from suicides, car accidents, and plane crashes. Think of the people who have suffered so much, for so long. He's looked far enough to know that they'll rebuild. Everything will go back to normal - better than normal, but it takes years (12 years, 8 months and 3 days.) Years of heartbreak and anguish, years of suffering and pain. Was it worth it?
He thinks he's been there for hours already, (But can he be sure? Can he be sure that this isn't one of the repeats, one of the loops, something he can never, will never, won't ever escape from) when a tiny hand taps his shoulder - slightly calloused already from long hours in the workshop with her father with a wrench or a screwdriver.
Strange turns around slowly, hesitantly, and looks Morgan Stark in the eye. She has her father's eyes, brown honey coated ocean eyes, eyes that you could sink into, drown in, and stare at for days on end. There's a depth in her, a wisdom. She's clearly inherited her father's genius.
"Mum told me to ask you to get inside," Morgan smiles brightly, and skips around him. "She looked a bit worried. And you look sad. Are you okay?"
"Yes, dear, I'm perfectly fine, thank you for asking. I'll head inside now." He hesitated. "Are-are you sure your mother is fine with me coming in? Because her husband is dead and it's my fault I wouldn't want to impose."
"Mhm." She twirled her fingers into her hair, and her expression turned more serious. "Mom was going to come out and tell you herself, but she looked sad, and her eyes went all misty." She paused, then perked up, and started to grin again. "So, I came out and did it for her. She'll have less work to do now."
A crack of thunder roared, and lightning burst across the sky. It started to rain.
He followed Morgan inside.
Pepper Stark was as welcoming as ever, as she flitted around the house, reminding him a bit of a bumblebee. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her voice seemed slightly hoarse, only serving to make him feel even more guilty. Her strawberry blond hair drifted around her shoulders as she poured him a cup of tea and put Morgan to bed. In around 8 million timelines, they had been good friends. He wonders if they'll be good friends here too.
They make polite small talk for a bit - he doesn't comment about her frazzled appearance, and she doesn't comment about the bags beneath his eyes. They exchange phone numbers, and he slings back to the Sanctum. He collapses into bed with a sigh, and falls asleep.
He's glad the Sanctum has soundproof walls.
The next morning, Wong looks concerned. This is a bad thing. A very, very bad thing. Wong never looks concerned. Ever. He only has two expressions - dead on the inside face, and/or laughter, but creepy. This is neither.
"Stephen." Oh no. Wong even sounds concerned. This is a threat of the highest magnitude.
Okay, fine. He's being a drama queen. He can almost hear Christine and Tony judging him inside his mind. (In 6 million 2 hundred and 4 timelines, they had been drinking buddies. In 9 hundred, Pepper had had a crush on her. In 896 futures, her affections were returned. In 769 futures, one of them died before their second anniversary.) No, don't think about that.
Wong side-eyes him, and he realizes that he's been staring at nothing for a while now. Damn.
Ordinarily, Wong would have pressed for information, but he seems to see the exhaustion in him, or maybe this crisis really is that dire.
"You, you looked at the futures? The timelines?" Okay, that was not what he expected.
"Yes." He has, he's lived the same life millions of times, lived hundreds of lives within those lives, and lives within those. Is he even human anymore?
"This was the only way?"
"Yes."
Wong bows his head, almost in defeat.
"I had a sister." Oh. Oh. Another life, meaninglessly wasted, meaninglessly wiped from existence.
"I'm sorry." And there's nothing left to say.
Next week, Steve Rogers calls a meeting.
"Hello everyone, thank you for coming today. I hope you've all been doing well." Watery smiles are exchanged all around, and hugs are given with gusto. They all seem more cheerful, especially Clint, who looked like he'd stepped right out of a horror movie before. Now, he's the rom-com. "Today, we're here to discuss returning the stones to their proper time periods." The room grows more quiet, and more serious. He knows this part. Steve Rogers places the stones back in their proper timelines, and he goes back to his long-lost lady love Peggy. He doesn't take a second to consider the countless lives he's erasing with his decision - Peggy had a husband and kids after-all - but no one could convince him otherwise. That was one of the things that stayed consistent through most timelines.
Except for that one time he stayed with Bucky and his plums, and got married.
"I got some Pym Particles from the past last time I was there with," he chokes a bit on the name Tony, but quickly recovers. "Tony, and if we mess this one up, we can always have Dr. Pym make some more. Hank Pym nods, then glares a bit. Stephen thinks it's because he thought Howard Stark had been the one to steal the Pym Particles back in the day, and that had been the reason he'd started preaching Stark hate. He finds it slightly amusing.
"Rogers, when those stones have been put back, give the sorcerers the Time Stone please, we are its guardians, and the annoying little thing really is important." He pipes up before Scott Lang has a chance to, which happens in 2 timelines. The guy really likes listening to himself talk. Not that he can judge.
Everyone stares.
"What? Did I say something wrong?"
"Umm, Dr. Strange, you do know that the stones were destroyed by Thanos, do you not?" The fucking raccoon says, sounding worried, but also slightly mocking. Were these people all dunces? Dum-E, wear the dunce cap. C'mon, put it on. You know what you did.
"Well yes," he says, impatient, "but you did make a copy when Banner snapped, did you not?" The stares intensify.
"No, we didn't. Were we supposed to?" Banner said, almost sheepishly.
What.
What?
"What the hell do you mean you didn't? Didn't Wong tell you to... You didn't talk to Wong, did you."
Now, Hope interjects. "Who the heck is Wong? Is he important?"
Rogers sighs heavily. "We tried to call him, but he was busy defending the Sanctums against someone he called Mordo? So, we didn't consult any magic users since that was the only one we had the contact information of."
He almost started to giggle. This isn't how it's supposed to go. They were supposed to contact Wong, then Wong would tell them to bring back the stones with the snap so this timeline didn't collapse into madness, or be destroyed by Galactus or Dormammu. Then, they would put the other timeline's stones into their proper places. The Time Stone would return to the Sanctum, the others would be taken with the Guardians of the Galaxy, except for the Mind Stone, which would be used to rebuild Vision.
Without the stones, the most a timeline could last is a decade - time would start to unravel, reality would warp, distance and space would slowly change until everything collapsed in on itself, and the Mind and Soul Stones would ensure that no one would do anything until it was too late.
"Strange, are you okay?" Captain Marvel spoke, breaking the awkward silence.
"Haven't you noticed?" He grunts out. "You should sense it, at least a bit. All of you should see it. Haven't you noticed anything odd going on lately? Remember the dust?"
Everyone flinches.
"How did that not cause environmental problems? That amount of dust should have at least affected our breathing by a bit. What about Thanos and his army? How did they get here? He didn't have any Pym Particles. Captain Marvel, how did you rescue Tony and Nebula from the Benatar? Without a spaceship, going through the jump points is significantly slower, and for anyone but you, it would be impossible. How did you even find the ship in the first place?"
The room starts to feel smaller, stifling. Cramped.
"Strange, what point are you trying to make?" Peter Quill says apprehensively. "Cuz, I'd really like to be going to find Gamora right about now, so get to the point."
"Timelines can't survive without the stones. They fizzle out and die within a decade. You've doomed us all. But I can fix this." Stephen grabs the case Captain America is holding with all the stones, and he portals straight to Tony's workshop. He's seen where the gauntlet is, and how it's made, and Tony's shown him where he keeps his nanotech. FRIDAY tries to send out an alarm, but he mutes her with a flick of his wrist and a burst of orange.
He summons the glove and the stones with his own, personal accio charm, (Yes Tony, like from Harry Potter,) and he wills Tony to appear in front of him. The workshop doors are firmly shut, but Rhodey has taken to banging on the windows with his suit. He must have flown here. He knows better than to repulsor the glass - Tony made sure it was everything proof when the Hulk moved in for a time.
Tony. Tony was always the linchpin for everything. Nothing worked without him. He was the centrepiece of every timeline he's checked so far.
He thinks for a second, and grins.
Space, to transport him to where he needs to be. Time, to rewind the clock. Mind, so Tony remembers what has occured - he'll add some of his own memories too, just so he knows why he's back in time, Soul, to bring him back from the dead, Reality, to make his dream a reality, to make sure that reality doesn't collapse around him, only goes back, doesn't shatter, and finally, Power, to give him the Power he'll need to do this.
He snaps.
The last thing he sees before he dies, is a bright, flash of Arc Reactor Blue. He smiles.
Thousands of miles away, Tony Stark wakes up with an electromagnet in his chest, and a car battery on the table beside him.