Strange meets Stark
Tony tried to report about the Masters of the Mystic Arts. But his attempt to report the incident didn't go that well.
Not because he didn't want to, or he felt threatened, and no one tried to actively stop him. He reported being abducted by a sentient cloak to aid the Sorcerer Supreme in a fight against an alien tentacle monster no one had even realised was there.
The witnesses were nowhere to be found. When he finally managed to track one down, he didn't talk. It wasn't as if the witness were threatened either, still he denied the whole incident. Stark thought he didn’t want to sound crazy.
When he came back to the alley, all the damage was gone. He found no traces of the monster either.
He had his video and audio recordings, but without tangible proof, they looked like … special effects.
When he tried to tell Rhodes, his friend was adamant it was a prank.
So he decided to do some research instead. The pictures from Strange were a start. He got him mostly from the side, slightly from behind, and he thought it would be difficult. But F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him within seconds that she'd found the man, and when the file she brought up was the profile of a formerly famous neurosurgeon he almost lost it.
The most interesting thing he found out besides Strange's life as a surgeon and news about his accident was his name being on HYDRA's hit list. Okay, that spoke for the man, but it explained nothing.
He searched for anything more recent, but there was nothing.
No insurance, no bank accounts, no nothing. It was as if he had ceased to exist.
Great.
Then he tried to research the Masters of the Mystic Arts themselves and didn't get much either. Some mentions of a place named Kamar-Taj, nothing specific. Rumours that sounded like a sen-cult or pseudo-scientific hogwash.
Only when Thor contacted them, telling them he planned to relocate his people to earth, he got some tangible information.
“Oh, dear friend, son of Stark?” Thor stated almost as an afterthought at the end of their call, “I'd be very relieved if you could do me a favour and alert the Sorcerer Supreme of our arrival. I want to avoid another confrontation.”
“Oh, you had a run in with the Master of the Mystic Arts?” Tony stated as if he were perfectly aware of everything while fishing for information.
Thor actually blushed. “Well, let's say Master Strange is not exactly fond of my brother.”
Another point for Strange in Tony's books, but he didn't say that aloud. Thor's relationship with his brother was… complicated.
“Well, I'd love to help, but seem to have misplaced the address somehow. Reprogramming my AI and such, could you maybe…?” he started, Thor's face lit up. “Of course, friend Tony! It's 177A Bleecker Street.”
Greenwich Village? Seriously?
“Oh, sure, how could I forget? Thanks, Thor, Rhodes will deal with your logistics. It is good you have some time left until you come, we wouldn't want people to believe you're planning an invasion, huh?”
“Never friend! We’ll… cooperate fully… all of us.” Tony didn't really know how much he could trust this last statement but decided to let it go.
Time to catch on with his new pet project.
__________
Stephen sat in his kitchen eating oatmeal.
He wasn't fully healed yet, the fever had finally broken last night, and he felt weak and disoriented. The sigil burned painfully on his shoulder, but according to Wong, the worst was now over. He felt restless and, during his feverish hallucinations, he had re-lived far too many of his nightmares.
He wore sweatpants and a t-shirt, the clothes he had slipped into after his first shower in days, his bare feet shuffled over the floor, the Cloak firmly attached to his shoulders.
It never left him any more. It had already been quite clingy after the whole Dormammu-ordeal, but now it seemed absolutely convinced that its master wasn't able to do one single step without getting into trouble, and it decided that was not happening without it.
Fighting with the cloak was useless and a futile waste of time and energy, so he just let it be. Besides, he felt safer with it on, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He already felt strange enough in everyday clothes. As if he were naked without the shield of his mystic clothes.
The Sanctum was quiet and empty. His incapacitation for work had left the other masters with enough to do. While he was still at the beginning of his way to complete recovery, they had their hands full. Although he knew that it would be counter-productive to his progress in recovery by wasting his arcane energy on minor threats, he had made it a point to appear stubborn and let Wong work to convince him to rest. No way would he ever let his reputation become that of a mellow personality. Where would be the fun in that?
An insistent knock on the door surprised him. It should have been impossible for anybody to get to the Sanctum's doors. The wards were firmly in place, and he didn't invite anybody… or did he?
Maybe Wong did? Some of his memories of the incident with the sudden rifts and curious tentacle monsters didn’t add up, and his comrade in arms hadn’t been very forthcoming. Wong insisted on waiting until he was fully healed, or simply ignored him whenever Stephen tried to inquire.
Carefully, aided by the Cloak, he approached the door. Hovering there indecisively, he listened to the insistent knocking again.
Stephen didn't feel strong enough to deal with whatever knocked on that door. Either it was exceptionally powerful and dangerous, or it was an invited guest.
He sighed, and before the intruder could knock again, he let the door swing open, getting as ready to fight as possible.
Whatever possibilities he had pondered, Tony Stark standing in front of his door, dressed in impeccable business attire looking very formal and official, was not one of them.
He straightened himself as far as he could. When he ran his hand through his hair in a futile attempt to look a little less dishevelled, he realised what a poor representation of a mystical master he embodied. And he felt even more vulnerable without his typical garb.
Stark looked at him quizzically. “You're up already?” He asked casually, as if they already knew each other.
Strange tilted his head. “Obviously.” He simply stated, carefully trying to guard himself. “And what brings you here?” He definitely wasn't ready for this. With every breath, he realised how weak he was.
“Wong offered me answers and a chance to talk to you as soon as you were coherent. His exact words were: You are welcome to come back as soon as the Master of the New York Sanctum is awake again and able to talk.”
“Ah.” Well, Stephen thought that explained how Stark had been able to penetrate the wards. What a careless invitation. “And this has to be right now, the first moment I'm up?”
“Honestly, it has only been three days since I saw you being stabbed and poisoned by an eldritch abomination and exposed to a treatment that looked almost worse than the attack, so I didn't even expect to see you on your feet already.” Stark slowly came closer, the stylish aviator glasses did nothing to hide his piercing gaze when he mustered Strange from head to toe. Stark was the picture of professionalism right now, and he didn’t even flinch when the door slammed itself shut. Tony held all the cards and he knew it.
“What would you know about the incident with the Griparmur Skrímsli?” Strange carefully inquired. Wong be damned, many duties aside, he should have taken his time and briefed him about Iron Man's involvement at least. He hated standing here in front of Tony Stark like an idiot. Suddenly, he felt like a kitten in front of a Doberman. Determined to decrease the humiliating impression, he firmly set his feet on the ground and towered his whole height over the engineer, stopping Tony's approach far too deep inside his comfort zone.
The other man laughed at his empty gesture and put his sunglasses down. “Your little levitating friend dragged me into it. Wow, you were really out of it, you didn't even notice who saved your ass, did you?”
Strange stared. That explained a lot. Especially Wong's very evasive behaviour. He felt like going nuke at his friend if he just had the energy.
“Well, let's say after that little setback, I haven't been myself lately.” If one considered fever-delirium and raging magic a little setback, then it was true. “I see you want to talk, and it seems this has to be right now, so would you mind accompanying me? I'd rather not stay here in the middle of the hallway for a lengthy talk.”
Without further ado, he turned and half walked, half levitated towards the kitchen. His magic was so depleted, he couldn't do much. There were rules and the Sanctum was following them, it would not help him to get rid of an invited guest as long as he didn't pose a threat.
He didn't see Stark's stunned look when he carelessly turned his back on him, but the other man followed suit after a short pause.
“You're here all on your own? So shortly after you… have you already recovered? You don't look so good.” Tony showed a surprising hint of concern.
“Well, there's lots to do and no one to be spared. I'm awake, that means, if necessary, I'll fend for myself. That's what the Master of the New York Sanctum is supposed to do.” Strange shrugged. “I'm not alone. The Sanctum and my Cloak protect me.”
“Yeah,” Tony replied snarkily, “that much I've seen.”
Strange looked up at that. “Well, now I'm genuinely interested to hear what Wong didn't tell me.” He went over to the kitchen counter and started to make tea. He'd really like to show off a bit, the way he did with Thor. But he didn't know how soon or how much he'd need his magic again, and so it would be recless to waste magic on menial tasks. Dear boy, that was a nasty situation.
___________________
Stark stood in the middle of a banal kitchen, letting his gaze move over the comfy but simple interior, which didn't want to fit so much with the rest of the house. He watched Stark slowly potter around, looking quite silly in his casual attire topped with the formidable red cloak. He did observe how the cloak aided the sorcerer, absolutely in sync with its master. It didn't seem the man noticed how the folds steadied his hands, poured the boiling water or reached for cups and bowls. Eventually, Strange used a little flourish of his hand to hover the tablet with the big mugs, the ornate Teapot, the milk, and sugar in the little silver bowls. Just some domestic magic in action. Looking at the badly shaking hands, Tony understood why he did it. He wasn't very surprised either to see the man filling his cup only half full.
Strange appeared deeply exhausted, but Tony thought it was a miracle the man was even awake. He felt reluctantly impressed by this display of resilience. He focused his gaze on the parts of Stephen's neck and shoulder, which weren't hidden under the washed out t-shirt or the Cloak. The skin was still red and sore, but the blackish-green streaks were gone. It itched him to take a closer look abut he knew the man would not allow being touched.
Finally, he sat down, preparing himself some tea as well, he was usually more of a coffee type. For a while, they sat in silence, simply staring at each other and stirring their teacups.
“So,” Strange started, “since everybody seemed far too busy to explain anything to me today, I'd love to hear what exactly brought you here to my humble home. What can I do for you?”
Stark sighed.
“Well, it all started with a cloak buzzing around New York’s streets all on its own…”
The encounter between the millionaire and the former surgeon in that kitchen was truly bizarre. None of them had ever expected something like this to happen, and their meeting could have gone south had Stephen been his usual overconfident self. But for now, they found themselves quite amicable towards each other.
Tony had to admit that what he’d learned about Stephen had left a good impression. Stephen, on the other hand, had never thought Stark would have it in him to help first and ask questions later.
He readily answered most questions from the engineer, declining honestly and sympathetically when they touched topics he was not at liberty to discuss. He got the impression Stark tried to exploit his weak state to extract more information, but he was able to avoid being too forthcoming. He also had to admit he rather enjoyed having company while being cooped up and that Tony Stark was more interesting than he'd thought.
For Stark, it was an especially odd situation due to the whole domestic setting. With all the chaos going on around him, he rarely ever just sat down and had a conversation. Especially when it concerned Iron Man.
He respected that Strange was unwilling to make any concessions right now. But he was satisfied that he did agree to continuous meetings, helping him understand what he was dealing with.
He was happy he had freed the entire day. He had expected getting entry would have been much more of a challenge than it eventually was and the meeting being more challenging, but now he felt reluctant to leave.
They relocated into the comfortable chairs in the Sorcerer's study. Stark got used to the eerie quiet of the Sanctum despite being in the middle of New York, and his curiosity piqued again.
It didn’t take long for them to fall into a good-natured banter about their various professions. Somehow, this led to talks about their several adventures after becoming ‘heroes’. Stark in the middle of everyone's attention, Strange without anybody even knowing. Soon Tony surprised himself by talking about his experiences during the fight with the Citauri, the happenings in Sokovia, being left in Siberia, all those stuff he NEVER talked about. Strange let loose, telling his visitor about his accident, the transition, the fight with an unbeatable being he could only keep chained by his own death. Strange had a surprised look on his face, which revealed he usually didn’t talk about those things.
The encounter with Dormammu was especially shocking. How he had died, painfully and cruelly, just to come back and do it again. Over and over and over.
Having nearly died himself, Tony understood now what Wong had meant when he said his master had experienced worse.
After a while, they both shared a comfortable silence. They both pondered the unnerving similarities and the undeniable differences between them.
They were two sides of the same coin.
One had embraced the first chance to heroism he got, the other had needed to lose everything until he could be a hero. Both had learned the hard way that having power didn’t mean entitlement. Both had to accept that there was more in the world than they knew.
Now one was a scientist, the other a sorcerer.
“You know, I think had I met you under different circumstances, I totally would have hated you,” Tony stated.
Stephen laughed. “Yeah, I can see that, I must say I feel quite the same but now…”
They just looked at each other. They were egocentrics, self-centred individuals who had to learn the bitter way the world didn’t revolve around them.
Stephen sighed. “I can't sign the accounts, too much is at stake here and the danger would exceed any usefulness. The mystic arts can be accessed by almost anyone if they just know what to look for, and for some it would be enough to know they exist to figure it out. So the knowledge about us is not something we can bring into the world. Working from the shadows is a protection for the sorcerers but also our first line of defence against abuse of the mystic powers. What would you say about us two staying connected? Puzzling out a way to work together, helping each other, and maybe even controlling each other? You already took a leap when you followed a floating piece of cloth, so could this work for you?”
He looked at Stark, bone-tired at this time. Just hoping this could end amicably. The sorcerer could clearly see the doubt in the other's face. The fear that made him do questionable actions, but also encouraged him to do better. After what seemed an eternity, Stark sighed.
“Yeah,” he finally said, “I'm not happy with this, really, but I think it's a good idea taking this slow.”
He looked thoughtfully out of the amazingly designed window, one could almost see the cogs in his head turning. “After all, haste has brought too much sorrow already, it's time to try something different. Maybe it's time to just invest some trust again.”
Strange just watched him for a while. He smiled.
“Sometimes one has to trust again, even if it had been in vain before.” He also turned to the window.
“You saved me. I could have beaten this thing alone if I had to, but I might have died.”
He paused for a while. “Maybe now that I am what I am, I’m even more a doctor than I've ever been. I only truly understand the Hippocratic Oath, while being forced to break it occasionally. At first, I didn't even consider fighting. I tried to blend out everything that happened during that invasion, I didn't want to become what I am now. I strived to preserve a self-image I liked, without realising how selfish and narcissistic it truly was. As a surgeon, I was sure to have a higher moral, to do no harm. Never did I realise that sometimes doing no harm is just the excuse for doing nothing and letting foul things happen.” He looked back at Stark, the obvious similarities in their personalities made it so easy to talk to him. Stephen had said things he’d never been willing to acknowledge, let alone admit in front of others, since the Ancient One had been lost.
“I had to deal with the monster, letting it meander around would have cost hundreds of lives. But merely killing it would have been devastating. Its physical properties would have been more destructive if it had died than the living entity itself. I had to send it back to its realm, I’d might’ve been able to do so and save my life. But alone I could not have saved the innocent bystanders. I got caught in the situation the way you found me because I could not decide what to do, and this indecision could have cost me and this city everything.”
He looked back towards Tony. “You saved me. You spared me the decision of letting harm befall a few people to save many. Thanks to you, everybody could be saved. Maybe that's what we'll need each other for in the future.”
Tony just watched him. His expression was thoughtful and calm. After a while, they were just watching the light pass through the window.
There were fascinating opportunities waiting for them.