Chapter Text
Clink-a! Clink-a! Clink-a!
The sound of rock hitting rock echoed in Steve’s ears as he approached the pad. In one hand he carried a briefcase. Within, the infinity stones from the past resided, held stable in nanotech casings. In the other hand, Mjolnir rested, perfectly molded to the palm of his hand.
He had said his goodbyes to everybody, saving the best for last. He wanted to savor the moment—The last time that he would see this Bucky. The Bucky that had gone through so much, who wasn’t the same man that Steve had always looked up to. But now that he would finally have the chance to go back to his time, Steve could make sure that Bucky would never fall into the hands of HYDRA. He would make sure that Bucky would not change. They could work side by side, Captain America and his right hand man.
It was time to rewrite history.
“Going quantum. Three—Two—One—”
And everything gave way to a blur of colors, reality warping at his fingertips. The taste of time and space coated his tongue as he flew faster than the speed of light. Faster than the ever-ticking clock that had determined his life.
Forcing his body to move under the current that assaulted him, Steve opened the briefcase and took out the stones, placing them carefully into the hidden compartment he had made only hours ago. The nanotech raced up his arm, much as it had with Tony’s the day Thanos had been defeated. But he had a plan, he would not be injured.
Gripping Mjolnir in his gauntlet, Steve channeled all the energy into the weapon, watching as it broke into a million shards, the Uru sending streams of energy in each direction.
Reality cracked and crumbled under the weight of this power. Spidery chasms opened up all around Steve as he let out a yell of primal fear. Tendrils of energy wrapped around his form. Whispers echoed in his head as he was pulled into the inky depths around him.
This was not supposed to happen!
The air was sucked out of his lungs, his skin felt as if it had been burnt from the inside out. There was blackness for all the eye could see—
And then—
The world spun back into focus.
He stood outside the building. Dressed impeccably with a suit and tie. How—?
And then he read the sign.
The Stork Club.
It had worked.
He had turned back time. It was his future now.
Steve did not see the crackly portal behind him close with a sharp snap. Nor did he hear the screams of the timestream he had left as they disintegrated into nothingness. Their anguished cries lost to the universe.
And as Steve Rogers approached a grieving Peggy Carter, he did not realize just what his actions had done.
On Asgard, the youngest prince flickered out of existence for only a moment before returning.
In the New York Sanctum Sanctorum, the appearance of an aggrieved sorcerer caused mass hysteria.
In the Stark Manor, a man, dead to the world, returned on his knees, hands in the pre-snap position.
And at the base of its roots, the very fabric of the space time continuum twisted and bent, stitching itself together in a completely different pattern. Reality, Space, Time, Soul, Power and Mind unified into one as the future was rewritten.
It was time for the universe’s second chance.
Notes:
A rather short chapter to start off. They get longer in the future I promise!
Chapter 2
Summary:
Our heroes go back in time. It doesn't go that smoothly—after all, what are you to do when you find yourself stuck in the past?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tony Stark felt everything fade away as he stared at the empty holes where the infinity stones had been not a moment ago. Had this all been an illusion conjured up by Thanos? Was he still stuck on Titan with the kid and Bleecker Street Magician? Had they failed?
He could feel his breaths coming out in pants, his mind whirling through thousands of possibilities. Unable to take in his surroundings as he tried to rationalize what had just happened. Was Pepper alright? What about Morgan—Oh god, Morgan!
“Hello? Sir? Sir! You must calm down!”
No… That voice. He was dead. Ultron had killed him all those years ago. He had lost him due to stupidity and arrogance, believing that he could control forces that were not to be messed with. His child—dead, because of him.
Spots of nothingness entered his vision and his throat contracted when it wasn’t able to pull in enough air. The last thing that Tony saw before unconsciousness claimed him was a familiar face with kind brown eyes, flecked with an iridescent green.
———o0o———
When Tony resurfaced, he almost passed out again at the people he saw standing in front of him.
Edwin Jarvis and Howard Stark looked down upon him, faces marred with concern.
And then all the memories came flooding back. The disappearance of half of all life—A time heist—The final battle—Fuck!
“Sir? Are you alright?”
That forced a bitter chuckle out from the very depths of Tony’s soul as he looked up into his deceased butler's eyes. The sound so broken that both Howard and Jarvis flinched. Tony could still smell the blood and grime from the battlegrounds where he fought Thanos for the second time. He could still hear the soft whisper of Peter’s, “Mr. Stark? I don’t feel so good.” And Strange’s, “It was the only way—We’re in the Endgame now.” Of course he wasn’t alright.
“Where is Thanos?”
Thanos. The Mad Titan. The alien that had been haunting his every move since New York. The threat that he had warned everybody about, only to have it dismissed as trauma or exaggeration.
“Who’s Thanos?”
And that’s when things started to click together.
Assuming that he was not in a hallucination or illusion created by Thanos, the only other explanation was that he was sent back in time. Obviously, he had been pulled out of 2023 right before his death as no human could survive the full might of all six infinity stones.
“What’s the date?”
Howard looked at him in irritation, “What? Do you have amnesia or something? You can’t just appear in my house and not expect me to have some questions—”
Tony scowled up at the rendition of his father, “Just tell me the goddamn date!”
“February tenth. Sheesh, you could have at least—”
“Year?”
“Wha—?”
“YEAR! Tell me the year!”
Howard looked taken aback at his tone, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “It’s 1945.”
Tony stood up, ignoring the protests of his weary body and started to pace, cursing under his breath. Of course they chose Cap to go back in time! A man who didn’t even understand the computer, more less the in’s and out’s of time travel! He must have used the stones to go back in time and live his dream life with Peggy. It may have destabilized the original time branch. After the heist it had already been precariously held in the flow of space time. Steve must have upset the balance. For all that Tony knew, the timeline that he was from could have been completely destroyed. But if he had ended up here, some other people may have as well.
Tony pushed aside the thoughts of his family. He could not think about them now or else he would completely break. The thought of losing Pepper, Morgan, Peter and Harley. It was too much.
“Listen to me! I don’t know who you are or where you came from but you are on my property and I want answers!”
Tony glared at Howard, lips curled up in an ugly sneer. “You want answers, do you? I’ll give you some fucking answers! You’re precious little Captain America has just complicated things beyond reason! How am I supposed to fix this!?!”
Jarvis took over the situation, leading an irate Howard to an adjoining room before he could explode into an argument with a stranger over a recently deceased friend.
But Tony was not paying attention to them anymore. He had to figure out if anybody from his timeline had been transported here with him or if he could somehow ascertain the accuracy of his hypothesis. Of course, after all they had gone through something like this would have to happen. Hopefully it could be fixed. Because if not—everybody that he had tried his hardest to protect may be dead.
———o0o———
Loki coughed, he could still feel the mad-titan’s hand around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. Preventing blood flow, squeezing veins, breaking tendons and at the brink of snapping the bone.
And then he had ended up here. Back in his Asgardian chambers. But he could still feel the calloused hand as it lifted him from the ground and closed around his neck. “You will never be—a god.”
He had died, but this was not Helheim.
Bringing his hand up to his neck, Loki stumbled over to the mirror before recoiling as if struck.
That was not him. Well, it was, but he seemed decades younger. His face unlined from the burdens of rule and the agony of torture. His body slimmer and less developed. The only thing that betrayed his age was the wisdom and weariness in his gaze. The eyes that were once full of hope and love, smoldering like pits of despair.
“Brother! Loki! The Warriors Three and Lady Sif wish to go on a hunt! There has been another sighting of the Golden Boar! We must leave right away and honorably slay the mighty beast!”
Loki turned around, conjuring daggers and raising them up defensively as Thor ran into his room. The youngest Odinson frowned as he took in Thor’s appearance.
He was younger as well, the humbling that he had received from Jane Foster had not seemed to have happened yet as he still exuded arrogance and foolish bravery.
The golden boar… Hadn’t he heard that before?
Yes—Around half a century ago Thor had dragged him along on another ‘adventure’. However, the big oaf had forgotten to mention the important fact that the boar had entered dragon territory on Vanaheim. It had taken incredible feats of seidr in order to get them out unscathed. Afterwards, he had been berated for retreating like a coward when all he had been trying to do was save their lives. And to think—He used to crave Thor’s praise and respect. How pathetic.
“Brother? Come—We must go immediately!”
Something must have happened as he had obviously ended up in the past. Perhaps it was foolish of him to have left the time stone within the midgardian sorcerer’s hands. Maybe he had caused this while trying to stop Thanos. One could never rely upon inexperienced mortals—A lesson that Loki had learnt long ago.
“I’m not coming, Thor.”
“But you must!”
“No Thor. I am going to stay in the library. I have research to do.”
Loki could feel his lips twitch at the expression on Thor’s face. A mixture between disbelief and anger.
“You would rather spend your day in the library than out fighting? Are you truly as cowardly as that brother?”
Loki’s amusement evaporated just as quickly as it had come. Cowardly. He had been betrayed by everybody he had trusted, lost his mother, been tortured and possibly killed by a being with power that Thor could only ever dream of. The one thing that he was not was cowardly.
Taking a calming breath, Loki locked away his fury and crunched his teeth together.
“I am not coming, Thor. Unlike you, I do take our training seriously. If we do not finish the assigned lessons how do you expect that we rule after Odin steps down?”
“Be that way then Loki. I will go and return victorious!”
“No you won’t.”
Loki took distinct pleasure in the bewildered look on Thor’s face.
“What do you mean, brother?”
“You forgot that the boar is in dragon territory. If you attack in their domain you will invite their wrath—Or were you not paying attention during the session on Vanaheim?”
As amusing as Thor’s rapidly reddening face was, Loki sighed, waving his weapons away.
“Thor, it is a foolish endeavor to try and take on the full might of a dragon herd. Perhaps you should wait until the boar has exited their territory—”
Thor cut Loki off before he could continue his explanation. “—Why should I listen to a trickster like you? Deceiving is your natural state.”
Loki flinched. He had forgotten just how ignorant Thor had been before he had met Jane Foster. Never caring for what his actions could cause. Or his words.
But he could not waste his time contemplating the past. No, Loki had much more important things to be doing. Thanos was a conundrum—a threat—and yet he was here, somehow still alive when he should be dead. I assure you brother, the sun will shine on us again.
All Loki had to figure out was what happened and how he had ended up in the past.
Easy enough, right?
———o0o———
Insomnia had become a normal quantity for Stephen ever since the final battle. He would find himself haunting the Sanctum after midnight, a cup of tea slowly growing cooler as it rested by his side. The night of Tony’s—No, Stephen did not have the right to call the man by his first name. Not after what he had done—Dr. Stark’s funeral had been one of the worst experiences of his life, right under the loss of the Ancient One, the bargain with Dormammu and the whole Thanos extravaganza.
Mrs. Stark-Potts had cornered him, her face stricken in mourning as she demanded answers. Next to her, a solemn Peter Parker stood, head bowed and shoulders slumped. All the young, innocent energy that he had possessed just days before was replaced by grief. The kid’s childhood cut short by unexpected loss. And it had all been Stephen’s fault.
The most awful part, however, had been Morgan. She seemed to realize the somber going-ons around her, but she seemed unable to grasp the fact that her father was never coming back. Her inquisitive brown eyes had stared up at Strange, full of confusion and hope.
“When is daddy going to be coming home?”
At that moment, Stephen had felt like the monster others had always claimed him to be. It did not matter that what he had done was the only way to defeat Thanos without mass casualties. Because as little Morgan had looked up at him and asked for her daddy, Stephen knew that what he had done would never seem to be worth it. Not when Tony Stark had ended up dead.
Rubbing at his temples, Stephen let out a groan and lowered his head to the wooden table. Closing his eyes, he could feel himself slowly give way to the ever-present lethargy in his bones. But every time he came close to oblivion, the sound of a snap echoed through his mind. The soft sobbing of Mrs. Stark-Potts underlaid the sound of her yelling. “Why did it have to be my husband!?! He was never going to put that thrice-damned suit back on again! He was retired—This is all your fault! And you call yourself a doctor… Tony is dead because of you.”
Strange could feel the tears line the inside of his eyelids but he did not allow them to fall. He did not deserve the relief of releasing them. The sound of a rough whooshing filled his mind as he tried to block out all emotions. Shhhwwwshhh!
But as the sound grew in volume, he pried his eyes open, only to fumble out of his chair in shock.
For before him stood a woman who he knew was dead.
He had seen her at her last moments. Heard her voice, the last time she would ever speak.
“It’s not about you.”
The Ancient One stood in front of him, eyes wide in shock and wonder as she looked down upon a man who was not of her time. A man that she had only seen in visions gifted to her by the Eye of Agamotto.
Stephen took a shuddering breath. He could feel his heart beating rapidly inside his chest as if yearning to be let free. She looked exactly as he remembered, shimmering yellow robes and all.
The Ancient One bent down and reached out, her hand stopping just short of Stephen’s shoulder. Her eyes traveled up and down his frame as if viewing things that no one else could see. Her mouth twisting up in a compassionately mysterious smile.
“Master Strange—I was not expecting to see you for quite some time.”
Notes:
I told you the chapters get longer! Anyway, here is where our story begins. Poor Stephen, Tony, and Loki, they have no idea what they're in for...
Chapter 3
Summary:
Tony begins to plan, Stephen's still lost in his guilt galore and Loki can't help but interfere—after all, us puny mortals can never be trusted to do anything right.
Notes:
Hello, I hope you're having a good day so far!
I just wanted to let you guys know that beginning with this chapter I've decided to attempt for an update every Sunday... but update schedules and I don't really mix so this may end up being like a New Year's Resolution. You say you'll do it but it just never ends up happening... or maybe that's just me...
Wish me luck!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After things had calmed down a bit, Tony had found himself sitting around a table with his father and butler, explaining where he came from. Steve had already messed up the timeline—There was nothing much that he could do that would veer it even farther off track. Hence, he found himself telling Howard—of all people—about the insanity that had become his life ever since Afghanistan.
It had ended much as he had expected.
“So, you’re my superhero kid from a future where magic, powerful rocks and aliens exist. Do you really expect me to believe that? I’ve heard two year olds come up with better lies.”
Of course Howard wouldn’t believe him, or even give him the benefit of the doubt—It had always been that way. Rubbing his forehead, Tony decided that enough was enough.
Tapping on his arc reactor, he allowed the nanobots to flow in every direction, covering his torso and creeping its way to his neck before stopping altogether. He reveled in the gawking looks he received from the men sitting across from him.
“Is that nanotech?” Howard was practically salivating as he stared at the armor. Tony had to admit, at least to himself, that it felt good to have somebody of equal intelligence recognize how complicated and advanced his tech actually was. Even Bruce had dismissed previous inventions as normal. Either because he didn’t realize just how revolutionary most of his inventions were or because he was used to Tony’s steady stream of ideas.
“How does it work? What did you use to make it? How did you manage to miniaturize all the components that would need to go into it? There’s no way to do it in this day or age—Oh… Oh Shit.”
Tony smirked, raising an eyebrow, “Hiya pops.”
Howard had gone incredibly pale, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. When he didn’t seem inclined to move on, Tony decided to change the subject.
“Who I am really doesn’t matter at this point though. How I got here and how I’m going to get back is what we need to be focusing on.”
Jarvis entered the conversation, sending a couple concerned glances towards his boss.
“But something must have caused you to come here. And, if I am not being too presumptuous, I do believe that you mentioned Steve Rogers, who is, by my current knowledge, quite—erm—quite dead.”
Tony sighed, bringing his hands onto the table and retracting the nanobots. “Mr. Rogers was found in the ice during my time in 2011. Understandably, he didn’t acclimate to the twenty-first century too well. But it came back to bite all of us in the ass later on. After facing Thanos for the second time—”
“The second time?”
Ignoring Howard’s interjection, Tony continued, “The stones would have had to be returned. I was dragged into this timeline before I could see who would send them. But, based upon the specific time I ended up in—”
“—It has to have been Steve.” Howard concluded, hands curled into fists on the tabletop.
Tony nodded. He had already dismissed Barnes as a possibility because of how at home he had become in Wakanda. There was no reason that he would want to go back in time and ruin the peaceful life he had found. Not to mention the fact that he had been snapped out of existence for five years. He already had a lot of catching up to do in the twenty-first century.
Jarvis frowned, “That does not sound like Mr. Rogers. At least from what Mrs. Carter has told me.”
Tony smiled bitterly. Captain America’s persona had covered up so much of Steve’s actual actions. No matter what he did, even if it was against the law, he would be forgiven in an instant. Tony, on the other hand, was the media’s favorite scapegoat. An explosion in Nigeria—Why was Ironman not there to save the day? An earthquake in Germany—Had to be Tony’s fault.
The youngest Stark paused as his mind went back to Ultron. The one mistake that he knew was his responsibility. The error that had cost his son’s life. JARVIS…
And the man that he had based his first complicated AI on, sat in front of him. Eyes that he remembered full of love were now guarded. Because to him, Tony was a stranger.
Stranger? Strange. Stephen Strange. A Master of the Mystic Arts.
Tony stood up, knocking his chair askew as he made for the door.
“Where are you going!?!” Howard asked, jumping up and running after Tony.
Pausing, Tony turned his head, “To find somebody that can help me.”
“Well I’m not letting you go alone. This affects me as much as it affects you. Just let Jarvis and I get ready and then we can be off.”
Tony frowned in displeasure. He did not want anybody to slow him down. But then again, in this timeline he had no influence or money. He would get rolled over in a city like New York. Howard, on the other hand... “Fine! But you better hurry.”
“Oh, trust me. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
———o0o———
Time.
Stephen closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sat in an armchair. Across from him was the Ancient One, composed as ever.
Stephen could feel the cup of chai in his hand shaking from more than just nerve damage.
He could hear the soft melody of the time stone. He could feel its presence like the tick-tick-ticking of a clock. He could taste it on his tongue every time he swallowed. Cinnamon and Caramel, Tinged with faintest traces of times long past and futures yet unknown.
He had thought that he would never have to deal with the stone again. But now it was back—It was back.
The cup in his hand went crashing to the floor.
Jerking, Stephen stood up, apologies falling from his lips. I’m sorry. So sorry.
But he did not know what he was apologizing for. Not now. Not anymore.
With a wave of her hand, the Ancient One waved away the cup’s shards. Her eyes still stuck on him. Her face shown with understanding, a melancholy emotion flitting across her usually stoic face. “Do not apologize, Mr. Strange. It was not your fault.”
Stephen could tell that she was not talking about the tea anymore.
But tea was so much safer than the alternative.
“Yes. Well, anyways, I’m sorry for making such a mess.”
And then there was silence. Silence that Stephen was not willing to break.
There was a time when he couldn’t stand the quiet. When he would do anything to fill the emptiness. He created a larger than life persona, became more outgoing, narcissistic actually. All so that he could fill the uncomfortable chasm that was silence.
Now he coexisted with it. He welcomed the quiet—a reprieve from the constant barrage of magic. The colors, the sounds, the feelings. But with it came a soul-gnawing loneliness. But he could deal with it. He could.
A sharp sound broke the companionable silence between the two sorcerers.
Rappa-Rappa-Rap!
Stephen looked towards the Ancient One, waiting for her lead. She tipped her head, raising an eyebrow. Stephen clearly read her meaning: This one’s for you.
Sending a soft smile her way, Stephen teleported to the entrance corridor. With a twitch of his hand, the door swung open.
Stephen choked. His esophagus failed to function as he stared at the doorway.
Tony Stark stood, haloed by the sunlight outside. His face flushed with emotion.
But he was dead. Stephen had watched as the light had faded from his eyes. Soul shone a little brighter than the rest of the stones as one more magnificent life was added to the frenzy of death.
Dead. No reversals. No more time.
“—Strange. Woah… You need to calm down, wizard.”
Vaguely, Stephen could feel the magic leaking from his aura, mixing with the air around him and causing a bit of a lightshow. But how could he care when Tony was standing right there!
“Hey, wizard, I know that you’ve probably been through a lot. But I was just about to kill Thanos and his lackeys back in 2023 and I kinda wanna figure out what happened. So, if you could just try and relax a little, that would be great.”
The swirls of bluepurplegreen around Stephen froze in place. Tony was not dead because he had not gotten the chance to snap. He had been pulled out of reality like Stephen had been.
He had still almost died.
The wisps of magic faded from the air, replaced by the familiar weight of crushing guilt. The feeling so intense that Stephen almost stumbled under the pressure.
His fault.
“Dr. Stark, I—” Strange paused as he finally registered the other two men who were in the room. Both staring at him as if he was a ghost. One he did not recognize. The other, however…
“—Howard Stark!?! Oh, great. I knew I went back in time but I didn’t think it would’ve been this far.”
Stark snorted, “My thoughts exactly.”
Stephen sighed, pushing his emotions to the darkest recess of his mind and focusing on the feeling of space bending as the Ancient One stepped out of her very own portal. The golden sparks crackling in the crisp morning air.
She stepped out with a sly smile on her face, hood lowered over her eyes.
“Welcome Anthony Stark, Howard Stark and Edwin Jarvis to the New York Sanctum Sanctorum. Home of the Master’s of the Mystic Arts.”
Stephen forced down a smile at the Ancient One’s dramatics. He remembered being on the receiving end of her magical mumbo-jumbo. She had always had a flair for the dramatic, especially with newer recruits.
Tony eyed her before turning back to Stephen. His eyes dancing with questions. And, keeping with his reputation, Tony voiced his thoughts without any filter.
“And who, exactly, is she?”
Stephen felt heat creep up his cheeks as he sent a glare Tony’s way.
“She is the Ancient One, current Sorcerer Supreme and my mentor.”
Tony paled, quickly turning back to the Ancient One and stuttering out an apology. All he got in response was a small nod of acceptance. Stephen had to fight a wave of deja-vu as he remembered just how impertinent he had been to the Ancient One when he had first arrived in Kathmandu. Unable to grasp the concept that there was something that he did not understand.
“D-did she just open a portal!?!”
Oh yeah, Howard Stark would have never seen magic before. Another novice. Wonderful.
“Obviously…” Came Tony’s mocking drawl as he stepped further into the room, “And the wizards can do much more than that.”
Stephen sighed, mumbling a soft, “It’s sorcerer,” under his breath.
“Yeah, yeah—Whatever you say Gandalf.”
Stephen paused at the nickname, licking suddenly dry lips as he remembered all the times in fourteen-million realities when Stark had made such a reference when referring to him. So many chances—But only one that he could follow through with. And even then—
“Strange? You good over there? You’re looking a little peaky.”
Stephen startled, returning to the present with an embarrassed look. “I’m fine.”
He could feel Stark’s appraising eyes on his form. Taking in his ruffled appearance and raising a doubtful eyebrow. Stephen did not like the penetrating look. It made him feel transparent, like an open book for all to read. Secrets exposed to those intelligent eyes.
However, before Stephen could distract Stark from his intricate scrutiny, the Ancient One let out a soft gasp. And a moment later, Stephen tensed as well.
Turning around, Stephen raised two protective mandalas. Next to him, Stark had extended the Iron Man armor. The repulsors' heat licked at Stephen’s cheek as a sheen of seidr appropriated the space in front of them. Stephen knew that seidr.
As if to prove his hypothesis, Loki Odinson stepped out of the shimmering veil of magic. His eyes roamed the room slowly before landing on Stephen. His face twisted up in condescending contempt.
“I suppose that I have you to thank for being sent back in time. After all, I do know a fellow stone-keeper when I see one. So, I must ask—What have you done, sorcerer?”
By the Vishanti—Stephen really did have the worst of luck.
Notes:
Loki: What did you fools do!?!
Stephen: Oh my god. Why is this my life?
Tony: This is going to be one hell of a shitshow...
Also, if you missed my notes in the beginning of the chapter, from here on out I'll be attempting to update every Sunday—we'll see how that goes...
Let me know what you think!
Chapter 4
Summary:
Stephen has a headache and Rogers just doesn't understand anything.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Headaches were not something new to Stephen. As Sorcerer Supreme, he had many duties, most of which were stress-inducing. The constant pressure tended to lead to migraines. He had suffered from them ever since medical school. A reliable factor of everyday life—If he spent too much time studying or operating, it was almost a given that he would have to suffer through one the next day.
However, at present moment, his head ached not because of lack of sleep or stress.
No. The reason for the sharp pulses of pain that stabbed through his psyche was the two man-children in front of him.
“You invaded New York and tried to take over my mind!”
“How does that matter? Thanos was my main priority at that point—”
“—You threw me out a window!”
“It is not my fault that you mortal’s are so delicate and fragile. Pathetic really—”
“Pathetic!?! I will have you know that I’m a tech mogul billionaire who was about to defeat Thanos before I was sent back here!”
“You expect me to believe that a mewling quim like you could defeat the Mad Titan? What a laughable idea. Truly Stark, I expect better of you—Ermph!”
Stephen sighed in relief. Thank god for basic silencing spells.
“I am only going to release the spell if you both promise not to bicker like toddlers. Then we might actually be able to do something more productive like figure out how we came to be decades in the past!”
After receiving two petulant nods, Stephen retracted the spell.
“Now—Does anybody have the faintest idea of how we got transported back in time.”
Stephen rolled his eyes when Stark raised his hand like a goddamn grade student.
“Yes, Tony? We’re not in school, just say what’s on your mind.”
The sound of the Ancient One’s soft giggles had Stephen stiffening even further. He had not signed up to become a baby-sitter when he took the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme. Yet here he was, watching over two squabbling children.
And, all of a sudden, Stephen had a new found respect for Christine. Had she had to deal with this everyday? Had Stephen once been as bad as the two men in front of him were?
Oh… Christine. He would never see her again if he didn’t manage to fix whatever had happened. She might think him to be dead—Unreturned from the blip. He should have met up with her right after being returned to existence. It did not matter that she was now married. It did not matter that her husband was Nicodemus West. Now he may never see her again. All because he couldn’t get over the fact that she had moved on from him.
“It’s Rogers. It can’t be coincidental that we appeared within a week that Cap ended up in the ice.”
Loki frowned, “But how would the Captain have gotten his hands on the infinity stones in order to do that?”
Tony shrugged, “I have my guesses. But I think that the good doctor may have some answers. I do believe that he manages to outlive me in our timeline.”
Stephen sighed, ducking his head downwards with a groan. “After the final battle with the Mad Titan, we had to return the stones to their respective times. Steve was voted to be the man of action.”
Tony scowled, “And did you not think to stop him? Or is it only my life you ruin with your all-forseeing powers?”
Not just yours. Pepper’s. Morgan’s. Rhodey’s. Happy’s. Peter’s. Harley’s.
Mine.
“I did not look past our win with Thanos. Fourteen million six-hundred and five futures is already quite—quite burdensome.”
Loki interrupted, voice laced with confusion.
“Final Battle? Defeating Thanos? Respective Times? I think that you have a lot to catch me up on.”
“Oh Reindeer Games, you haven’t the faintest idea.”
———o0o———
Fourteen million six-hundred and five.
How is the midgardian sorcerer still aware of his surroundings? How is he coherent?
But when taking a closer look, Loki noticed the weariness that followed around the man like a cloak of despair. He looked older than the last time Loki had seen him, his face more lined and hair streaked with more strands of gray. He had lost weight and looked as if sleep had been evading him for quite some time.
But still… The mortal must be truly powerful if he could survive an ordeal like that.
And then, of course, there was Stark. To circumvent the rules of time? Unheard of, even among gods.
There was something in these two mortals. They were blessed.
Loki paused, remembering something that his mother—Oh, Frigga. I miss you so—had said years ago. A part of a story at night—
A man of power so strong. Capable of so much love in his metal heart. And next to him stands a man of time unknown, mysterious and withdrawn. Tempered by the toils of time yet still compassionate. My dear son, you are one with them. Sleep without fear tonight.
Not a story. A prophecy.
———o0o———
Steve had managed to convince Peggy that it was not a good idea to call Howard. Peggy had taken the news that Steve had come back from the future with aplomb. And once Steve mentioned the fact that Bucky was alive, but in HYDRA’s claws, she had been ready to go with Steve to rescue him.
At first, she had insisted that they call Howard, saying that he had contacts that they could use to find Buck. But after Steve had explained just how entitled Howard’s son had become after getting to help save lives, Peggy backed down. Nobody wanted Howard with an even bigger ego. It was obvious where Tony learnt it from. Being the son of a millionaire must have been full of pampering. He would have never had to go a day hungry like Steve had. Spending the money as if it was a given, not a necessary commodity. He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and because of that he had grown up to be arrogant and ignorant.
“Steve? I think we might have a problem. I just intercepted some of HYDRA’s coms. They were talking about how Howard’s being accompanied by a man that I think you might know.”
“I’ll check it out later Peggy. Bucky is our main priority right now. Howard shouldn’t always get preference because of his position in society. That happened with Tony and you know how he ended up.”
Steve heard Peggy hum over the coms, “While I agree with you I still think you should look at the picture. I’ll send it over now.”
As Steve approached the HYDRA base, crawling through the foliage he could not help but miss some of the 21st century technology. Had he had some of that tech he could have already completed this mission.
The enhanced land-line, courtesy of Stark Industries, pinged softly in his pocket. Dragging it out, Steve froze as he saw the man on the screen.
That was impossible.
In the picture Howard Stark was decked out in a suit and tie, his butler standing on his left. But on his right stood none other than Tony Stark.
Impossible.
But then again—Tony did have a knack for ending up in the wrong places at the wrong time. It was just typical that he would find a way to haunt Steve even after his death. He had always made things more complicated. He created messes and left them for the real avengers to clean up. He destroyed the avengers, created Ultron and tried to kill Bucky. The fact that he was alive now showed just how cowardly he was. Steve should never have believed that Stark would be ready to lay his life on the line for the universe. Obviously he had already had a plan set up to survive. Stark was no hero. He never had been.
“Change of plans Peggy. I need you to do some recon on this man. It’s him—Tony Stark. I’ll continue to track Buck. Stark can’t be allowed to interact with people. He’s never been able to keep his mouth shut—He’ll destroy this timeline.”
“On it Cap. Good luck.”
“You too, Peg. You too.”
Notes:
So far so good. We've reached chapter four but we've still got quite a bit to go...
Poor Stephen, when he signed up to be sorcerer supreme he did not expect to have to babysit—hell, I'd be pretty pissy too...
Anyway, how are you all liking the story so far? Is it too slow paced or is it going by too quick? Any advice that you all could provide would be of great help as I delve back into this story and try to make it the best it can be.
See you all next time and have a great day (or night)!
Chapter 5
Summary:
Loki just doesn't know when to stop pushing and it results in a rather vivid panic attack on Stephen's part. Luckily, Tony's around to save the day.
Oh, and don't forget Steve—he's in 1945 too!
Chapter Text
Stephen knew that Loki was watching him. The god’s eyes had been locked onto his back for the last half hour as they flipped through the books at Kamar-Taj, trying to figure out if there was any way to go back to their regular timeline.
“You lied.”
Stephen startled, “Excuse me?”
“You lied. You said that you didn’t look past the final battle. That was a lie.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Yes it was. They do not call me Silvertongue for nothing. I know an untruth when I see one.”
Stephen sighed, closing the book he was skimming through, “Perhaps I did lie. Perhaps I did not. It is not for you to know.”
Blissful silence.
It did not last for long.
“What did you see?”
The ground was scorched with the tears and sweat of those who had fought. Streaks of scarlett and purple blood caked the floor. Stephen stumbled back up to his feet and dragged himself a couple feet.
“No. Please…”
He fell to his knees. His hands clawed themselves into the soft fabric of what remained of the Cloak of Levitation. Teared from seam to seam it writhed on the ground next to the corpse of the New York Sanctum librarian. Wong lay still, his insides vaporized by the reality stone like so many others who had braved the dangers of Thanos’s gauntlet. Stephen had not been able to get the vanished to the final battle on time.
He could hear the sobs of those who returned, only to find the other half of the population gone. Each and every one doomed to the very depths of the soul stone. Without Stephen there to hold their souls safe they would decay until all that remained were the very basics that were the husks of life.
“Strange? I asked you a question. I expect a prompt response.”
Stephen set down the book. “It is nothing of importance. It did not happen.”
“You do realize that does not answer my question.”
“I know.”
“Then why don’t you answer it? What happens after the final battle? What did you see?”
The world started to blur as Stephen felt his knees go weak. Loki continued to talk in the background but Strange could not bring himself to listen. He could feel bile rise up his throat but he choked it back down and grabbed hold of the bookshelf to remain standing.
What had he seen?
He had seen destruction on an unimaginable level. He had seen trillions die because of his mistakes. He had seen futures where he had found a family and grown old on the ashes of those who sacrificed their life in the blip. He had been happy. He had been devastated. He had grieved. He had lived. He had cried and screamed and bled and—
A spray of cold water hit his face, stinging his eyes and freezing everything else. Coughing, Stephen blinked and his vision cleared. He was on the ground, sprawled on his back. Loki stood above him, lips curved downward and eyes wide.
Silently, Stephen bent his head and wrapped his arms around his knees. He could feel tremors wrack his frame as he closed his eyes and curled his hands into balls. The cloak squeezed his neck in support before wrapping around him like a cocoon.
The water that dripped down his face mingled with the fresh salty tears that escaped from under his eyelids. So much deathbloodsorrowloss—And all of it only existed inside his head.
“Strange?” Loki’s voice was closer, softer, “Strange? Are you with me? I need you to open your eyes.”
But opening his eyes felt like the hardest thing to do. If he opened his eyes he would have to face more problems, more life, more reality. Another future that had not gone the way he had planned for it to go. A future he had not seen in his dive into the time stone. There would just be more. Endless more.
“Wizard? Wow, when Loki told me he broke you I didn’t think he meant it so literally. Hey, Strange, I’m gonna need you to get up for me.”
Tony. The man that he had condemned to death. Who had a family.
Oh, Morgan.
She would grow up without a dad because of what he had done. Pepper would be an only mother because of his decision. He owed the Stark family so much.
The very least that he could do was follow through with the request that Tony had just made.
Prying his eyes open, Stephen blinked away the last of glistening tears before standing up. The cloak held most of his weight as Stephen tried to avoid making eye contact with the two others in the room.
The awkwardness was broken by Loki’s oddly quiet drawl.
“We should probably get back to working.”
“Yeah. You're gonna be alright Strange?”
Stephen nodded silently, picking up the book he had dropped to the floor, “Yeah, sorry.”
And slowly, all three of them got back to work. And this time, Loki didn’t say a word.
———o0o———
Peggy groaned in frustration. For the last hour she had been trying to figure out where in the world Tony Stark had gone. She had tracked his path using satellite footage. In order to reach the footage she had needed to hack into so many databases, including one of Howard’s own. It was an easier process than she had expected. Obviously Howard wasn’t as good as he thought himself to be.
Unfortunately, the cameras had fizzled out before Tony could reach his final destination. Peggy had tried everything possible to retrieve the data from any security camera in the vicinity to no avail. It was as if somebody had managed to delete the footage from existence. Something that should be thoroughly impossible.
With a sigh, Peggy started to pack up the equipment and hoped that Steve had some better news.
———o0o———
Things had gone downhill right away. Apparently, HYDRA had technology far beyond what Steve had expected. The moment he entered their property they had surrounded him like a pride of lions around prey. It seemed that the heat scatterer that both Howard and Tony had always incorporated into his armor actually had a purpose besides trying to track Steve’s every move. HYDRA had used infrared sensors to find and identify him. And now he was locked away in the deepest, darkest corner of the base.
It was completely unfair that even when trying to do the right thing, Steve managed to get treated with the utmost disrespect.
In the next cell over Steve could just make out the outline of a man. As he watched, the man seemed to regain consciousness, rolling over with a weak moan. He had obviously been tortured by HYDRA.
Steve froze as a stream of light hit the man’s face.
“B-Bucky!?!”
Chapter 6
Summary:
A story of loss and a story of fear. Also, Loki's eyes are green!?! Who would have guessed?
Chapter Text
After another two hours Stephen retired to his room, leaving Loki and Tony to continue the research. Howard and Jarvis had gone back to the mansion after receiving an urgent call from Peggy. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she wanted. Obviously Steve would’ve attempted to save Bucky. And, as Tony could attest, whenever a situation involved Barnes, Steve could become incredibly blinded to the true reality of things. He had probably raced into HYDRA base with a half-baked plan believing that everything would work out in the end since fortune always favored the ‘good of heart’. A philosophy that Tony could never agree with. Hence the constant arguments and eventual estrangement.
“This is useless! There’s nothing here that can help us!”
“Patience is a virtue, Stark. I thought that a hero such as yourself would know this.”
“Shut up, Loki. You might not have somebody waiting for you back in our timeline but I have a daughter who probably thinks her daddy is dead.”
“Woe is you Stark. You are not unique. Many people have lost their children. So if you could stop complaining with that squalling mortal brogue— ”
“ —Don’t you dare. You don’t know what it’s like— ”
“ —I don't know what it’s like? I—of all people—don’t know what it’s like? You have no idea Stark. None at all.”
The mocking laughter that followed up that statement pissed Tony off. It was as if Loki was trying to make fun of the fact that Tony may never see his child again.
“Then tell me! Tell me all about your sob story. What? Did daddy not like you? Did he favor Thor? I don’t blame him. You’re a murderer, Loki. You’re a monster.”
Loki flinched at his words, his skin turning a blanched ebony. A sharp spearing of guilt was forcibly suppressed as Tony allowed his fury to take over.
But then Loki whispered such horrible words. Such horrible, horrible words.
“I may be a monster, but that does not automatically make my children beasts. You think I wish your family harm. I can assure you that is not the case. I would not wish the loss of a child on anyone. Not after what happened to my own children.”
“Y-your own children?”
Loki’s entire body shuddered, his eyes shadowed and haunted. This was the countenance of a grieving father, not that of an arrogant god.
“My first was Fenrir. He preferred his wolf form and intimidated many while at my side. But it was not meant to be. Odin received word of my child and while I was out on a hunt he took my son away. Apparently, there had been a prophecy made that claimed that all of my kin, no matter who they may be, were to be born monsters, fated to kill the All-Father. The sorceress that said these damning prophecies was known for her unreliability and innate hatred of the Odinson family. But the Asgardians could take no risks, even for my children’s sakes. They trapped Fenrir in a cave, cursed to forever be stuck in his wolf form. He spent months howling, hoping that I would hear his cries for help and come to his rescue. But I was never allowed to visit and every time I tried to circumvent the system I was caught. And then, one day, his calls stopped. It was only decades later that I learnt they had shoved a sword through his muzzle to pin it closed, silencing his cries forevermore. I haven’t seen him since. I hated Odin for what he did. I still do. Yet my will was not strong enough to prevent similar fates from befalling my other children. I should’ve been able to save them. They didn’t do anything to deserve such fates. Their only sin was being born and raised by me. It was my very existence that caused their suffering. It was my fault.”
Tony grimaced at what he heard, inwardly horrified. How could Odin do such a thing to his very own son and grandchild? It was cruel and inhumane.
Thor had made Asgard seem like a land of perfection and perhaps to him it was. But where there was light there was also shadows. And it seemed as if this darkness had been thrust upon Loki for him alone to bear. It was really no wonder that his sanity had frayed and led to the New York invasion. In retrospect, Loki himself hadn’t seemed quite that fit, physically or mentally, during the invasion. He had been emaciated, his body twisted as if trying to prevent any unnecessary movements. His eyes had been hollow shells of what they looked like now in this younger body.
Wait—
“ —You’re eyes, weren’t they blue before?”
It took a moment for his words to pierce through Loki’s haze of sorrow, but when it did he took a double take, his lips parting in shock.
“I’m afraid you’re quite mistaken, Stark. My eyes have always been an iridescent green. That is, whenever I am in my Asgardian form they have been.”
Tony frowned, “Well during the invasion they were definitely blue. I remember correlating the color with the space stone.”
Loki froze, “Blue you say? How peculiar, I do not remember much of the invasion, perhaps my change in eye color had something to do with it. Then again, it could’ve just been my fall through the void that messed with my senses.”
“The void?”
“Ah, how do mortals refer to it? I believe you call it space.”
“You fell through space!?!”
Loki looked away, “The void leaves its mark on all of those who pass through it. In fact, when I look at you I can see its blemish scarring your aura.”
“My aura? You know what, don’t even tell me. I’ve had enough magic for a lifetime.”
Loki sighed, “Sometimes I feel the same way.”
———o0o———
The Eye of Agamotto was a beautiful relic, intricately designed to contain immeasurable power. Lines of metal beautifully weaved to create an artifact so powerful that it could contain and channel an infinity stone.
Yet it paled in comparison to what it held. The time stone shown like a ray of sunshine in a barren land. Its exterior glimmered like the purest of water, reflecting an almost celestial emerald.
It was the only way back then. And it is the only way now. Oh, the irony.
Loki had obviously come to the same conclusion after looking through most of the New York Sanctum library. But after having learned about the futures Stephen had seen he had probably decided to leave the topic for another time. A time when Stephen wasn’t so caught up in his own mind. Lost to the millions of futures the time stone had shown him. In the end he was too weak to do what needed to be done. Pathetic.
Pepper was right. He really was a hypocrite.
The eye closed slowly as Stephen made the appropriate gestures. His hands ached with the movements and he had to bite back a hiss.
Now he had a broken mind to complement his broken hands.
The pained noise morphed into a bitter laugh.
Hilarious.
It was just so fucking funny. His entire life was a fucking joke. He had thought being a doctor was his end game, helping people like he couldn’t help his sister. But then he let his hubris get the better of him and look how that turned out. His hands mangled beyond repair. And then—like a bumbling idiot—he made the same mistake again. A Master of the Mystic Arts. Sorcerer Supreme. As if he could just waltz in and take the job, better than everybody else who had been training for years.
But look at him, making it all about himself yet again. He never did learn.
Through wheezing breaths Stephen continued to laugh, his hands clawing at the relic around his neck. Prying, pulling, pleading—Get it off, Get it off, Get it off—
“Stephen?”
Not right now. Please… Leave me alone. You cannot see me like this.
“Oh, Stephen. What has it done to you?”
The Ancient One approached from behind him. Stephen could hear the whistling as her robes fluttered in the non-existent breeze. When her hand landed upon his shoulder and nudged softly, all he could do was oblige to the unspoken request.
Talk to me?
Turning around, Stephen let out a choked sob.
“I don’t want this. I don’t want to use the stone again.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“You always have a choice.”
“Not this time.”
The Ancient One’s hands uncliped the Eye from around his neck and placed it back on the pedestal.
“You will not be able to help anyone in this state. You know it, I know it, even the stone knows it. You will not be able to move forward until you can confront what is holding you back. What is holding you back Stephen Strange?”
“I— I don’t know.”
But still the time stone was waiting. Waiting for him. He could feel it in his very being. He could taste it on his tongue. He could smell its anticipation.
‘I am here!’ It screamed.
And yet he still lied. What is holding you back Stephen Strange?
He had the answer. He had always had the answer.
Help me.
Please.
I’m scared.
I can’t do this.
Chapter 7
Summary:
Loki gets his hands dirty, Tony's turned into a tool and it all comes at poor Stephen's expense.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Loki knew that Strange was struggling. Grappling with the trauma of so many different realities, each competing for the total domination of his mind. If the situation was not so dire, Loki would never execute the plan he was about to put into place.
Strange needed an outlet, by bottling up everything inside he was preventing himself from getting past the pain. Once he managed to release the contents of his mind he would finally be able to face the time stone once more and use it to view the original time branch. From there a plan could be formulated to get everything back on track.
But first, Loki had to get his hands a little dirty.
Opening up to Stark about his children had been a painful, but necessary step. After which, Loki would have to slowly insinuate that it was Strange’s fault that Stark couldn’t be with his daughter. It wasn’t that hard, as subconsciously, Stark himself was trying to find somebody to blame. He had already more or less focused his attention on Strange. All it took was a couple words here and there and the idea was left finalized in the back of Stark’s mind, ready to leap forward at any moment. From what Loki could tell, Stark was prone to blazes of searing rage that burnt hot and quick. It was exactly what may be needed to get a rise out of Strange.
Yes. What he was doing was absolutely deplorable. In fact, it was outright monstrous and reprehensible. But it was also necessary.
Yet, for some reason, that logic only helped to unsettle Loki more.
He was not one to beat a man when he was down, no matter what others may believe. And Strange was most definitely down.
With a soft exhale, Loki prepared the final stages of his plan. Trickster, Manipulator, Monster.
He should not feel guilty, and yet, when he saw Strange walk in, deep bags underneath his eyes, hands cramping and mind a million realities away he could not help it.
But he was Loki, god of chaos, mischief and fire. It was in his very nature to cause discord.
Coward. Betrayer. Deceiver.
Yet he still felt so very, very guilty.
Stephen wandered into the kitchen, only to find Stark already there. Loki drifted closer in his astral body, enhancing the spell that prevented Stephen from picking up on his magic.
“Strange. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
Tony started off the conversation with a mocking drawl that obviously ticked Strange off.
“It’s a communal kitchen, Stark. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“I don’t know. I thought that you just might want to avoid meeting the man who you sentenced to death. Whose daughter you sentenced to a life without her father.”
Stephen winced, wringing his scarred hands before him. Softly he murmured his response.
“I’m sorry. It was the only way.”
Stark shot up, eyes smoldering. “Was it? Was it really the only way? Or was it just the best way for you? Hmm? Was my life—my daughter's happiness—a reasonable sacrifice so that you could live your best life? Is that the lie you tell yourself to get through the day?”
“I—I—please Stark—”
“What? What do you want to say? Nothing can make up for what you did to my family. What you did to me. Nothing.”
“—I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for anything but I’m so very sorry—”
Stephen broke off with a heaving sob. In his astral form, Loki sighed. He had really not wanted to do this.
Stark shook his head, “I can’t forgive you for what you did, Strange.”
“I—I know. I’m sorry.”
Here it comes—
Stark, apparently finished with the conversation, stood up. Before he left he threw out one last, final blow. The last few words that would snip the string that was holding everything together.
“You better help me fix this, Strange. Or else you’ll forever hold the burden of Morgan’s suffering. I’ll make sure of it.”
The room descended into silence as Stark walked away. Loki watched sympathetically as Stephen’s breathing became harsher. The minute Stark was far enough to not be able to hear, Stephen let out a full body shudder, both hands grasping his head.
“Argh—”
And he lost control.
Loki’s eyes widened as he noticed what was about to happen.
Oh shit.
There was no other way to describe it. Strange just… exploded.
Magic came pouring out of every opening. Leaking from his ears, eyes, nose and mouth. It was unlike his usual, warm orange. Instead it was a midnight black, smeared with inky red. Stephen whimpered softly as the room filled with it, vibrating with power. Anything that it came in contact with started to fizzle and melt.
In his astral form, Loki backed away. He had not expected such a visceral reaction. Perhaps he had underestimated just how affected Strange had been by all those visions.
Now unable to see Stephen, masked as he was by the smog, Loki flinched back as seidr screamed. The sorcery that was leaking from Strange felt insidious and wrong.
He could not risk being touched by it.
Within a moment, Loki transported himself back to his body in the bedchamber the Ancient One had prepared for him.
However, before he had left, Loki had glimpsed a flash of green, at odds with the black mist around it.
Loki had a bad feeling about this.
———o0o———
After the Ancient One had left, Stephen had been unable to stop thinking about the time stone.
In the end he had decided to go back to the eye and take it with him. Perhaps then, with the object of his ire around his neck, he would be able to muster enough courage to face what he had seen.
And so, feeling absolutely wretched, he had made his way into the kitchen, the eye hidden within the folds of his robes.
But then he had seen Stark and everything had gone to hell.
It was reasonable that Stark would lash out, and after everything that Stephen had done he should’ve been able to take it. It was what he deserved.
But as Stark kept talking, the checks he had in place within his mind had come loose. All those realities where he had lived together with Tony and Morgan shot forward, followed shortly after by all those in which they had died—GriefSorrowLossI’mSoSorry.
The barrage had continued until his mind could take no more and just—snapped.
He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask to make the tough call. He didn’t ask to determine the fate of all those people. How was it fair that he got blamed for something he hadn’t even wanted in the first place?
Around his neck, the Eye of Agamotto opened and the time stone gleamed like it never had before. A vague burning filled every nerve and caused him to collapse to his knees as some sort of black—something—escaped from his body.
The next moment, he fell unconscious.
———o0o———
“Is he going to wake up soon? You know how much I dislike waiting Time.”
“He’s a baseline human. Give him a break.”
“Humans are so weak. Remind me why we’re using him again?”
“Because he’s the best person for the job. Trust me, I know it.”
“Well, he’d be better than Tivan. That guy was an idiot.”
“Agreed.”
Stephen regained his senses slowly. There was something different. He felt relaxed. As if he had gotten years of rest. There was no more pain inside his head, nor in his hands. It was as if the car accident had never happened.
“Ooooh! Time! Time! Look, your human is waking up—Isn’t he so cute?”
Stephen propped himself up on his elbows and looked towards where the voices were coming from. There were six people standing side by side exuding an ethereal aura. They were each different colors, from their hair all the way to the tips of their toes.
Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple.
The Infinity Stones.
“Ah, he’s a sharp one. He’s already figured out what we are.”
“That doesn’t mean much Space. We are all obviously colored differently than what a mortal would be accustomed to. It’s not that much of a leap of logic when you have not encountered many other alien species.”
“Oh, but Soul, you forget my keeper has viewed many alternate futures. He is not a mere mortal.”
“You’re all idiots. How about we don’t waste any more time and actually pay attention to the human? We don’t want him to be too confused.”
Stephen got up to his feet, shocked to find all the infinity stones in one place taking on a humanoid form. They were majestic, with no clear gender or creed. The only differentiation between each stone was their style of clothing and overall color.
The yellow figure stepped forward.
“Welcome Stephen Strange. I am Soul and we are here to grant you and yours a second chance.”
Well. Fuck.
Notes:
Stephen: Ah yes, sentient infinity stones. Life can't get much weirder I suppose...
Me [The Sadistic Author]: Oh sweetheart you have no idea what's in store for you.
Hope you liked the chapter! Leave a comment if you have the time—It's always nice to see what you have to say.
Chapter 8
Summary:
Sentient Infinity Stones can only mean one thing—Life's about to get ten times harder for everybody involved...
Like really, how hard can it be for a couple rocks to give some time off?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“So, just to recap here, you want me of all people to work together with Loki and Stark. To change the timeline and prevent Steve Rogers from creating this branch.”
Time nodded, “In essence, yes. However, there is still more to consider.”
“Yes, what more could you ask of me? I am at your disposal after all. Did you not take into account the fact that I may not be willing to do all this? I could fuck the timeline up more than I already have.”
“Or you could save it.”
“Yeah right.”
Time smiled knowingly. It was oddly reminiscent of the Ancient One and Stephen found himself simultaneously peeved and comforted.
“We will not just be sending you back to change the events that led to the creation of this timeline but also many of the vital experiences that shaped your reality. You, Stark and Loki are to mold that universe into its best self.”
But why? Why would the infinity stones go so far out of their way to change so many events? It was practically a suicide mission. From what Stephen had read, universes tended to try and make up for changes in their planned path. In the end there was no escape from fate.
“What you are thinking, Stephen, is true—”
This was Mind. The stone that Stephen had so often seen embedded in Vision’s head. The stone that could see all his thoughts, understand his functions and, if necessary, manipulate his brain processes.
It was a frightening notion.
“—Usually, universes would compensate for any changes made in order to achieve a fixed end result. A nexus point, if you will. But through the combined forces of us—the branched timelines infinity stones—we may be able to change that.”
“But why me? Why us?”
Space stepped forward.
“Loki is my keeper, just as you are Time’s, and Stark—a mere human—has held us all in the palm of his hand. You are the only people we can trust for such a mission. You all understand the power of infinity.”
Well, wasn't that laughable. Stephen Strange, the epitome of arrogance and pretenses was one of the only beings that some of the most powerful sentient objects in the universe trusted.
What had the world come to?
Time took center stage once more.
“Stephen, we need you. The multiverse needs you.”
What could he say to that?
Well, there was only one correct answer.
“I won’t speak for Stark or Loki but I accept your mission.”
“Very well. I’ll see you in the next timeline over Stephen Strange.”
“I guess so. Wish me luck.”
———o0o———
Time had seen the progression of all life across the multiverse. The inevitable rise and subsequent fall. Birth. Life. Death. An endless cycle. One that had lasted for as long as the multiverse had existed and would last forevermore.
Every now and again in this infinite cycle, Time would find a special soul. A being who could understand how precious time was. How important memories of the past and knowledge of the future could be.
But Stephen Strange had been different.
He had been transcendent. He sparkled with motivation and had just understood.
It was refreshing. But like many before him his spark had burnt out before it could truly get going, before he could reach the height of his power. It was a tragedy that only Time knew. It was for that reason that he fought so hard for his human. He deserved so much more.
This second chance was not only for the timeline Steve Rogers had doomed to death.
It was also for Stephen.
His second chance.
And Time knew that he wouldn’t blow it.
———o0o———
Only a minute ago, Loki Odinson had been accosted by the infinity stones.
Now, he found himself in a rather familiar situation.
“You know, the last time I was in Germany I saw a man standing above everybody else. We ended up disagreeing. “
The good Captain. The man who doomed the timeline.
In his hand, Loki could feel the Mind stone. But there was something odd.
He couldn’t quite remember how this fight had gone down the first time around. In fact, he couldn’t remember much of the invasion. His mind during that time had been cloudy, as if something was interfering with his—
“If I might interject, if you’re going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that arena.”
“Do you consider failure experience?”
“I consider experience, experience.”
How had he gotten Chitauri army? How did he even acquire the scepter in the first place?
And, most importantly, how did Thanos know that he failed?
There was only one clear answer.
Turning his head, Loki looked at the blue encasing that held the mind stone.
Staring back was the shocked face of The Other. His figure wispy and warped in the depths of the stone’s surface.
Stark had said his eyes were blue.
By Odin’s beard—This was not good.
Notes:
BUM! BUM! BUM!
We love random missions given by colorful rocks.
But for real, Stephen's gonna have to have a word with Time after this...
Chapter 9
Summary:
Loki deals with the Other in his mind through some rather unconventional methods. Tony, left out of the loop, is left to pick up the pieces.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Agent Romanov, you miss me?”
Tony found himself landing roughly on the sidewalk, not exactly prepared to be flying in his suit after his meeting with the infinity stones.
When he looked up he found Loki frowning at his scepter. Steve had his shield out, as if he was about to swing it at the god while he was distracted.
“Hey Lokes, how about you come on in with us. There’s really no need for a fight this time around if you get my meaning.”
Loki looked up at him and Tony noted that his eyes were green rather than the bright, crazed blue they had been all those years ago.
Loki’s frown morphed into a smirk within the blink of an eye. “Are you offering me a drink Mr. Stark? How forward.”
Tony leered behind his mask. “Maybe… that depends on you. Are you coming in?”
“Invasions are so very plebeian.”
Loki waved his hands and his horned helmet disappeared in a shimmer of sparkles. Asgardian fashion sense left much to be desired. Though the leather really complimented Loki’s thin frame and—nope not going there. You have a wife, Tony!
Roger’s stepped forward, even as his face portrayed his confusion, and placed the SHIELD mandated cuffs around the god’s wrists.
Tony then grabbed the chain, under the guise of taking the prisoner in, and dragged Loki behind him till they were far enough away that even Steve’s enhanced hearing couldn’t pick up what they said.
“You good?”
Loki nodded, tracing his finger down the bridge of his nose with a wince.
“My head aches, but otherwise I am well.”
“You have a headache? I don’t. I thought Asgardians were supposed to be superior in every way.”
“Ah—it’s not from our—-” Loki paused, eyebrows drawing together, “—journey. It’s because-—urgh.”
Loki stumbled, his hands flying up to press against his eyes.
“That bad? Huh. I’ll sneak you some advil when you’re secure honey-muffin.”
Loki nodded, frowning at the ground. Tony watched him for a little longer before passing off the god to Steve.
Now it was time to deal with JARVIS.
“Sir? May I ask why you muted me?”
Tony paused at Jarvis’s voice, blinking away tears. He had seen the corpse of Jarvis’s digital body—a graveyard of fractured code and lost data. But he could not spare time for a tearful reunion. There were things to be done.
“I know that this is gonna sound crazy. In fact I can hardly believe it myself. But J, I’m gonna need you to trust me.”
“Sir, I was programmed to believe you above all else. And we have just discovered the existence of magic. Our very definition of reality may have to be changed.”
“Well then… No point delaying the inevitable. I’m from the future J. And so is Loki. It’s too long a story to tell, but in short, he’s my ally. You just have to trust me on this one J.”
There was a pause. Tony felt his forehead bead with sweat. What if Jarvis didn’t believe him? What if he thought that Tony had finally gone off the deep end? What if—
“I understand Sir. Whatever you need I shall execute without fail.”
Tony let out a sigh of relief. He should have known. Jarvis was loyal. He had no reason to believe Tony and yet he still did. Tony missed that implicit trust—nobody else had ever given Tony that level of blind faith before—not even Pepper.
“God I missed you J.”
“I know sir. But it is only natural, you couldn’t survive without me.”
Tony sniffed back tears yet again, even so he knew the thickness was still audible.
“Is that sass I hear Jarvis?”
“Oh, hardly sir.”
———o0o———
Loki was roughly shoved down into his seat on the contraption that Stark had led him too. Even though the scepter had been taken away, he could still feel The Other pressing upon his mental barriers, though the feeling had been toned down exponentially.
Rubbing his forehead, Loki noticed the tension in Stark’s shoulders. Instead of the banter he would have expected from the man, Stark was unusually silent. It also seemed that Loki was not the only one who noticed this as the Widow herself looked back every now and again, her face an unreadable mask—but one could not hide from the god of lies.
After a good five minutes, it was actually the Captain who broke the silence. In a whisper that Loki was obviously not meant to catch (he was a god, of course he had better hearing that of a mere mortal), Rogers murmured towards Stark, “I don’t like this.”
“What? The Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”
“I don’t remember it being that easy. This guy packs a wallop.”
Stark was silent, his eyes cloudy. “I suppose he does. Not much we can do about it now though.”
Roger’s face twisted slightly. “So you’re just gonna give up like that?”
Stark sighed, murmuring something Loki could not pick up as it was drowned out by a boom of thunder. Thor had arrived—dramatic, as always. Still he could not help but flinch.
“What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightning?”
Loki winced towards the Captain. “I’m not overly fond of what follows.”
Through a rather hazy memory, Loki could vaguely recall being grabbed around the neck and ripped away from the aircraft. It had been rather painful, and with his seidr spread as thin as it was, he hardly wished to repeat the experience. Stark, following his line of thought, retrieved his helmet and prepared for the crown prince just as a clang was heard on the ceiling.
“Take us down Romanov.” Stark said, his voice abnormally flat. “I’m pretty sure that’s another one of those Asgardians and I don’t really want him ripping apart the ship to get to pretty boy over here.”
As if in synch, Thor started to bang upon the metal ceiling, leaving fist shaped indentations in the metal.
As Romanov maneuvered the shuttle, Loki raised his hands non-threateningly and stood up. Even so the good Captain raised his shield as if preparing to let loose. Luckily, Stark came through for the save. “Hey, let him up. He won’t try anything—not with us and the asgardian here together.”
Rogers paused, “...I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him up.”
Loki cut in, “Please, allow me to deal with my brother. He has a history of being rather rash.”
“The same could be said for you.” Romanov hissed, turning around as the shuttle landed itself upon fresh Earth. “Sit back down. We’ll deal with your brother ourselves.”
“Then on your head so be it.” Loki murmured with a shrug. It wasn’t his fault if any of them got hurt, he had done what he could.
With a rather heavy breath, Stark opened the doors. Almost immediately Thor rushed in, his face contorted with rage. Loki felt his pulse quicken, his already strained body shuddering under the force of the glare he received. Just as Thor reached out, hands groping for his neck, Stark intervened.
“Calm down man. Your brother over here is in our custody—” Stark stepped between Thor’s outreached hand and Loki’s neck, “—and is that really how you treat a fellow ally?”
Thor hesitated, no doubt thinking of how his dear Jane would view his actions. After a moment, the thunder god’s muscles relaxed and he withdrew his palm. “I apologize for my behavior. My brother has been known for his tricks. I believed him to be dead, and to see him here now, committing such an atrocity… I was overtaken by rage.”
Loki snorted bitterly. He was the one committing an atrocity? Did Thor conveniently forget about all the realms he invaded? The millions he slaughtered in Asgards name? Of course he did. After all, it was only natural for Loki to do evil—never to be given the benefit of the doubt. Thor was a hypocrite and his self-imposed obliviousness made Loki’s blood boil with fury.
“Understandable.” Tony continued, “But instead of fighting, as your brother no doubt wants, we should instead try and work together.”
Thor nodded, a charismatic smile splitting his face in two. Loki really wanted to stab him.
“Of course.”
Thor walked into the shuttlecraft and sat down next to Loki. “I see you have not yet bound his tongue. Loki is known throughout the realms for his ability to lie and manipulate others with only his words as weaponry.”
Loki pressed his lips together tightly to prevent the stream of expletives he ached to let loose. Even now his head continued pounding—The Other was nothing if not persistent.
“We’ll gag him if we find it necessary.” The widow interjected, “But not yet. On our planet, binding one’s voice is inhumane.”
Loki winced, his head really was hurting.
“Nevertheless I implore you—Loki is not one you wish to underestimate, trust me as I have been on the receiving end of his cutting words often enough.”
There were black spots in his vision now. Loki tried to blink them away but they remained, concealing his surroundings. The widow was talking and yet he could not hear the words that left her treacherous mouth. His head felt like somebody had attempted to cleave it in two, only to fail and instead wave around the knife inside the vulnerable brain matter of his skull. A moan slipped through his lips, and he lowered his head to his palm.
Inside his mind, he could feel The Other gain ground.
Now there were hands on his shoulders. Then they were on his forehead. As if through a fog he heard Stark say, “He’s burning up… what the hell…”
The Other’s mental presence rammed into his shields. Loki felt them tremble under the force before facturing violently. When did my mental barriers become so weak?
The Other scrambled through his mind, leaving behind trails of bloody thoughts and memories. In a flash of remembrance, Loki found himself back on the Chitauri homeworld, his shields having been ripped apart. They had branded him, tortured him, beaten him and broken him. It had been pain, pain and more pain. Never ending. Never stopping. A constant haze of blood and gore and so much pain. How could I have forgotten—?
In a move of desperation, Loki ripped his eyes open and pushed away Stark’s concerned hands. He could not lose control, not now.
H-help me.
But there was nobody to do so. Nobody who could do so.
I will have to take matters into my own hands.
Loki settled himself. Focusing his eyes on Stark’s concerned face, Loki sent a fleeting thought his way.
Find Stephen. No time to explain. He can help me.
Tony’s eyes widened, but there was no time for further explanation. Loki sent him a grim final message: I will be fine. Find Stephen. Then, without further hesitation, Loki proceeded to bash his head against the shuttle wall. His skull, already under immense pressure, gave way like wet sand. The pain driving The Other from his mind far more effectively than his already compromised shields.
A moment later, Loki fell unconscious.
Notes:
Oh, Loki...
Whelp! That's it for this chapter. I wonder what Stephen's up to...
Chapter 10
Summary:
Stephen Strange awakes in the timeline-to-be-saved.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Stephen Strange awoke with a thud.
Blinking groggily, he wiped at his eyes, only to freeze.
Oh Vishanti—my hands.
With a child-like wonder, he brought the appendages to eye-level, flexing his fingers as if they were foreign entities.
“Oh god.” Stephen murmured, his voice hitching with emotion.
He’d forgotten what it felt like, to be able to move without feeling an ever-constant ache. Without the dull pressure around his ribs and the searing agony of pins in his palms. He’d gotten so used to being in pain all the time; every second an agony that built and built until he was lying in bed, too scared of a flare up to move a muscle. It had gotten so bad after Dormammu that even Wong had begun to fuss over him. And Wong didn’t do fussing.
But now—now he was fixed. His hands were no longer covered in twisting, hideous scars. They weren’t marred by the reminders of his arrogance and conceit. They were unblemished and whole. They moved without resistance and without pain.
Stephen couldn’t help it. Cradling his hands to his chest protectively, he sobbed. Wrenching, pitiful heaves that made his stomach sour and eyes crust over. But he ignored it all, merely grateful to the being that made it possible for his hands to heal.
“Stephen? Are you alright in there?”
Christine.
In a panic, Stephen’s hands flew to his mouth to stifle the carnal keening noise that spilled from his lips. With a liquid sniff, he forcefully gathered himself, wiping away the stickiness on his cheeks and glancing about the room.
He was not, as he had first thought, in his apartment. Instead he found himself at Metro-General. He was still dressed in operating scrubs, though his gloves had been discarded and his hands sanitized. Thank Vishanti I hadn’t appeared mid-operation. Or worse, in front of Dr. West.
“Stephen?” Christine’s voice asked from outside the door. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah.” Clearing his throat, Stephen undressed and changed into the casual clothes laid out nearby. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Good! I’m starving… how’d you feel about a sandwich from Sam’s?”
Stephen frowned as he buttoned up his top. Sam’s had been the deli down the street of Metro General before the invasion. Its pastrami deluxe had been infamous among the doctors at the hospital. It had been a sad day when it had gone out of business—Christine may have even shed a tear.
Taking a deep breath, Stephen centered himself. Taking one last appraising look in the mirror, he turned the knob on the door and stepped out.
Almost immediately, he felt the air leave his lungs.
Vishanti. She looks so young.
The last time Stephen had seen Christine had been before the blip. He had dropped by the hospital, hoping to catch her before her shift, only to learn that she had begun her own private practice. He had been shocked, unable to believe she had not told him about the accomplishment. In retrospect, her decision made sense. Their last discussion hadn’t gone particularly well, and there was no reason for her to continue to chase after him—not when he had spat over her loyalty and crushed her devotion.
“There are other things that can give your life meaning—”
“—what? Like you?”
Yeah. He had been an asshole.
“Stephen? You alright?”
“Hm. Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”
Christine smiled, her face radiant in a way it had never been when they were together. Stephen felt something inside his chest tear with the realization. (In other realities, they had gotten married. In other realities, they had raised a family. In other realities, Christine had been miserable. After all, who could be married to a man without a heart—?)
“Let’s go! It’s late enough as it is. You know how fast Sam’s sells out.”
With an internal shake, Stephen forced a smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
And so Stephen Strange and Christine Palmer made their way to the front doors. The walk through the hospital was a strange mix of nostalgia and nerves. As he walked by the operating theater, Stephen felt a sharp pain in his chest as he remembered the Ancient One’s death.
She’d died as she’d lived—in a flash of brilliance, momentous in her existence and yet still, somehow, down to earth. She was everything Stephen was not. Balanced. Fearless. Brave.
It should have been me on that hospital bed. Stephen thought, feeling his throat tighten.
Lost in his own thoughts, Stephen did not notice when another person approached from behind.
He did not realize until it was too late. Until Christine had been knocked out. Until he himself had been rendered boneless, immobilized on the floor.
Blinking past the stars in his eyes, Stephen shuddered. Karl.
And then, in a blinding flash of magic, the world faded to black.
———o0o———
Stephen regained consciousness inside a very familiar building. Like a sledge-hammer, the cloying taste of cinnamon filled his mouth. He was inside the Sanctum, and the time-stone was nearby.
“I know you are awake.”
Groaning softly, Stephen opened his eyes.
Karl Mordo peered down at him, face as stoic as ever.
“Get up. It would not do to keep the Ancient One waiting.”
Stephen blinked, trying to focus his mind. It was a fruitless effort, as the only thing his brain seemed keen to latch onto was the fact that Mordo—the man who had betrayed Kamar Taj in almost every reality, was standing before him.
“K-Karl.”
Mordo blinked, his mask cracking slightly as confusion and weariness emerged. Then, as quickly as the emotions appeared, they were hidden again.
Instead of waiting for Stephen to regain his bearings, Mordo bent over and wrapped his arms around Stephen’s torso, pulling him upward.
Feeling rather dizzy, Stephen leaned into the other sorcerer, cursing what was no doubt the beginnings of a concussion.
After limping past a few, rather familiar rooms, Stephen was left alone to await the arrival of the Ancient One, after a stern warning from Mordo dissuading him from running off. Stephen had remained silent, both due to the pounding in his head, and the rapid thumping of his heart.
(In over six hundred realities, he had killed Karl Mordo. Whether to save another sorcerer, in self-defence, or in revenge. In every such reality, Stephen would feel the weight of the blood on his hands—so much so that in around half of them, he had succumbed to the guilt, and performed ritual suicide to escape. Wong had not been pleased.)
“Ah, Stephen. Here at last.”
Swallowing down the familiar, acrid taste of bile, Stephen looked into the eyes of the Ancient One for the second time in what felt like decades—in what was decades.
“Y-yes. I suppose so.”
The Ancient One hummed, head tilted and lips puckered. “You look positively dreadful.”
Stephen snorted. “Well, time travel will do that to you.”
The Ancient One grinned impishly. “Yes, I suppose so. Though I’m sure Karl didn’t help much. I had told him to be gentle.”
Stephen felt his grin turn brittle. But before he could respond, the sound of his ringtone began to play from his back pocket. Flushing red, Stephen tried to stifle the sound of the booming vocals behind The Immigration Song.
Pressing the decline button, Stephen returned his attention to the Ancient One, only to see her eyeing the phone in his hand with appreciation.
“You know, ” The Ancient One began, “I’ve been to many Led Zeppelin concerts in my lifetime.”
Stephen looked at her incredulously as he struggled to mentally equate the sophisticated, transcendent woman before him to a normal human being, with human opinions and tastes. In all the time that he had known her, Stephen had never once known that she had been a Led Zeppelin fan. And had he been confined to his original timeline, it would have been a quirk she'd take to the grave.
This only goes to show how self-centered I have been. Stephen thought in self recrimination. Even after becoming a sorcerer, I am no different than the man I once was.
With a rough swallow, Stephen prepared to reply, only to be interrupted yet again.
“—We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow—!”
Fumbling for the phone, Stephen was about to hang up yet again when he noticed a text box flash across his screen.
Stephen. This is Tony. PICK UP.
Feeling his heart jump to his throat, Stephen clicked on the green accept button.
“Strange?”
“Ye—”
“Oh thank fuck you picked up. There’s something wrong with Loki. We’re on a helicarrier and he’s literally seizing in front of us. Oh FUCK—”
There was yelling on the other end of the line. Then, Tony returned, panting slightly. “You needed to get here fucking yesterday. Do your portal shit and get here right now.”
“That’s not how it works—”
“—I don’t care how it fucking works Strange! Here! Now!”
“I’m going to need a picture to portal.”
There was scrambling, and then, “Sent.”
Confirming that the picture was clear enough, Stephen turned to the Ancient One, preparing to ask for a sling ring, only to find her holding one out, head dipped down in a ‘go on’ motion.
Nodding his thanks, Stephen pushed the ring onto his fingers and concentrated. With a swish of his wrists, space bent, and a glowing orange disk split the air in front of him.
Stepping through the sparks, Stephen was engulfed in a scene of chaos.
The first that registered was the yelling.
“Shitshitshitshit! Natasha, I need the medkit! He’s bleeding out of his ears! What the hell—”
“—move, Man of Iron. My brother needs the assistance of the Asgardian healing halls, not your primitive Midgardian potions.”
“You can’t move him. Not in this state!”
“And you will not tell the crown prince of Asgard what he can and cannot do!”
Stephen felt a migraine coming on, and decided to tune out the others around him, if only for his own sanity.
Stepping forward, Stephen got his first good look at the injured god.
Oh fuck.
Loki was lying on his back, a pool of bloody ichor slowly growing around him in some sort of macabre aura. His face was pale and bruised, like a dying man’s. His body was starved, his cheeks hollow, and his eyes empty.
But worst of all, was the wrongness that emanated from his seidr. A wrongness so familiar that it made Stephen’s body ache in remembered pain.
The Other.
One of Thanos’s favorite lackeys. In many a reality, Stephen had been at The Other’s behest as the alien had tortured the humanity out of him. Along with Thanos’s sons and daughters, The Other was one of his most trusted servants. It had been he, along with Ebony Maw, who had broken through Stephen’s defenses via a mix of physical torture and the brute force of the mind stone.
Now, Stephen found himself watching as yet another went through the same tortures. Oh Loki.
Unable to stand the sight any longer, Stephen stepped forward, alerting the others to his presence.
“Stephen! Thank god you're here. Loki said you’d know how to fix this. Do you know what’s going on?” Tony stood up from where he was crouched near Loki’s prone form.
Stephen opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by a man he had not seen earlier.
“Stark! You can’t just go inviting civilians! This is a classified mission! Do you have any sense of propriety?”
Steve Rogers. Stephen thought with no little disgust. The Star Spangled Man Who Lives To Make Our Lives Miserable.
Stepping forward, Stephen ignored the Captain.
“We have no time to waste. Loki is currently fighting off a magical attack on his psyche.”
Tony paled, allowing Stephen to take his position near Loki.
“Who is attacking him?”
Stephen sighed, bringing his pinky and index finger together as he prepared to cast the strongest warding spell he knew. “Who else? Thanos, of course.”
Tony flinched at the name.
“Now, if you’d excuse me.” Stephen murmured as he pushed his magic outward. “I do believe I am going to pass out now.”
And as the world went black, Stephen Strange jumped into the mind of a Norse god.
Notes:
Well, Stephen's in for an adventure. After all, Loki's mind is hardly a therapeutic and calming place.
Chapter 11
Summary:
Stephen having an absolutely great time in Loki's mind; A facing off against THE OTHER; and, of course, what ever is happing in the Branch timeline.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
All was quiet at first.
Stephen felt lightweight—like he was soaring in a cloud of pillow fluff. The world around him was a creamy white and hugged his mind like the loving arms of a mother, holding her swaddled new-born close.
Licking his chapped lips, Stephen felt himself begin to relax, only for a rancid taste to creep across his tongue. His nose crinkled. The quiet cracked as the scent of ancient sewage and rusting metal clogged his sinuses.
Congested and disgusted, Stephen opened his eyes. Then promptly wished he hadn’t.
Loki’s mind had been hijacked. Instead of a normal mindscape, Stephen found himself in a jail cell. Smoothed, concrete walls formed a box tall and wide enough to fit only one or two people of Stephen’s considerable height. There was a distinct, disturbing smell. A mix of bodily fluids, rotting matter, and fresh blood. The wall closest to him had a brown stain, spanning from an inch above the floor to the ceiling. It took a moment to register, but once it did, Stephen flinched away from it, noticing the clumps of tissue amidst the blood.
Vvvvrsshhhh. Shhshchhh.
Stephen’s head turned so fast he heard something snap. In the corner of the room, hidden among the shadows cast from the singular bulb above, lay a body. As Stephen watched, the body twitched, the rags that were its clothes dragging along the wall. Srrrrvvvshhhh.
The body’s head lolled forward, as if it was a marionette, with its strings cut. Stephen cursed as the light finally reached the face.
Loki looked wrecked. His bones protruded; his tongue poked out of his mouth, swollen and dry; his eyelashes were glued shut by crusty biofluid. On his forehead, a gash slowly oozed, adding to the pool of ichor at his feet.
Taking a cramped step toward the body, Stephen bent over.
“Loki?”
The body stirred, bloodied lips parting to reveal two missing teeth. “...Shteven.”
Stephen winced at the slurred reply. “Yeah. I’m here. Is THE OTHER around?”
Loki squinted, raising a weary hand above his eyes. “Shteven… no. Shteveeen…”
“Shhh. I’m gonna get us out of here. But I need to perform a spell that requires your permission.”
Loki frowned, face creases temporarily halting the flow of blood from his forehead.
“Shteven shpell?”
Stephen nodded. “Yeah. A spell. Do I have your permission Loki?”
“Permss’n?” Loki murmured, contemplating. Then, painfully, his head shook from side to side. “No permss’n. No! No! No!”
Stephen cursed. “Loki. THE OTHER is in your mind. I know everything must be really confusing right now. But I’m here to help you. I need your permission. It’s Stephen, remember? I’m your ally. I know how to beat this sort of mind magic, but I need your permission.”
But Loki was still shaking his head, black hair whipping back and forth in an increasingly desperate frenzy that was no doubt going to attract unwanted attention.
“Damn. Okay. Shhhh. It’s fine. It’s okay. I’ll figure something else out.”
With a steadying breath, Stephen threw his mind back. He had been captured by THE OTHER in thousands of timelines. But in almost every one he had been alone. Never had he been able to save another without them giving him permission to cast a mind altering fortification spell.
Fuck. What now?
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to come up with a plan, as only a moment later, a third being appeared. Stephen took one look and felt faint himself.
Time had run out.
THE OTHER had arrived.
———o0o———
THE BRANCH
Outside his cell, there was a short man. He was pale, balding, and had on a thick pair of glasses. It took Steve a moment to place him, but once he did, his vision went red. Straining against his shackles, he ached to rip the smug grin off the man’s face.
Arnim Zola. Hydra’s resident Tony Stark.
“Oh vell hello Steve. You are avake. Just in time for you to see me take avay your friend over here.” Zola shook his fist, drawing attention to the chains in his hand that trailed away into the darkness of the other cell, crawling up to wrap around Bucky’s wrists and neck.
“Let him go, you bastard.”
Zola laughed, a tittering, nervous sound. “Vell, you are Kapitän America, no? I just have to do vhat you say, no?”
Steve grit his teeth, the sarcasm bruising him far more effectively than the bonds around his arms.
“How about I take your advice, hm?”
Zola clicked a button, and just like that, Bucky was released. Stumbling forward, he looked out of it, but Steve could see past the false front he was projecting. And like the flip of a switch, he steadied and charged at the open cell gates.
Zola, however, just chuckled. And when Bucky reached the opened bars, he went down hard and began to twitch, as if electrocuted.
“Bucky!” Steve strained against the metal holding him back, unable to do anything as Zola took out a remote control from his pocket and rotated the dial. Bucky’s convulsions grew in intensity, and Steve screamed himself hoarse.
After what felt like an eternity, Bucky finally went limp.
Steve turned his attention back to the scientist, feeling rage coil in his blood.
“How vas that? Amazing, no? My own invention. It taps directly into the nervous system. Incredibly painful. Your poor friend over there vill have to experience it again and again. That is, until I get vhat I vant.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Ohoho! No need for that my dear Kapitän. All I need from you is a vial of your blood. That’s all, just a tinsy-winsy little vial, and then your precious Barnes vill be free to go.”
Sweat beading his brow, Steve glared at Zola. With his blood, Hydra’s timeline for creating super soldiers would be moved up by decades. But at the same time, if he didn’t give Zola what he wanted, then he would lose Bucky all over again. After all he had sacrificed. After all he had risked.
“I am vaiting Kapitän, I do not have all day.”
Taking a deep breath, Steve made his decision. “You can take my goddamn blood, but you have to let Bucky go.”
Zola’s voice was full of glee. “Of course. Ve have a deal, mein Kapitän.”
The scientist approached Barnes’s fallen body, kicking the man in the stomach with his boot until he returned to his cell. Pressing yet another button on his remote control, the bars to the cell slid shut. “He vill be released after the blood is removed.”
Zola fiddled with his remote some more. A moment later, Steve’s cell cracked open. With a wave of his hand, a squadron of guards approached. Grabbing Steve, they dragged him out of the dungeon he had been kept in and into a well lit hallway. Zola followed after, tapping away at some new device he had procured.
After quite a few turns, they finally made it to their final destination. The guards pulled Steve into an operating room, strapping him down to the table with even more restraints. Then, they left, leaving Steve alone with the mad scientist that had, in another lifetime, killed his best friend.
Zola, now dressed in a lab coat, reached into a bin near the table Steve was on. Taped to its surface was a handwritten note: syringes, s.c.n. (strength caliber needle), sterile.
Steve, who had spent the majority of childhood inside of hospitals, winced when the needle was removed. The metal tip was thicker than any he’d seen before, the vial broader and covered in markings.
Whistling a jaunty little tune, Zola picked up a cotton swab, dipped it in alcohol, and rubbed at the skin of Steve’s inner arm. Then, without warning, he aligned the needle and plunged.
Just as Zola began to pull up the syringe top, the doors to the operating room burst open.
“Hands where I can see them!”
The needle jerked, and Steve bit back a pained grunt. Zola dropped to his knees, gloved hands up to the sky.
Oh god. Steve thought, as he stared at the doorway. I knew I loved her for a reason.
Peggy shot him a grin. From behind her, a group of professionals swarmed the room. Zola was forcefully thrown to the ground, hands shackled behind him.
“Hey Steve.” Peggy murmured. “I leave you alone for one minute, and look where you end up. You really can’t do anything without me.”
Steve felt himself warm from the inside out. “What can I say? I’m just a hot mess when you're not around.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Peggy replied, face radiant.
For a moment there was only them. Steve and Peggy—while the rest of the world paused and looked on.
Then… “Get a room, lovebirds. Ugh. I didn’t think I was signing up to watch a soap opera.”
Howard.
Reality rushed back. He had to get out of here as soon as possible—not only to save Bucky from his fate, but to save this very timeline from Tony Stark.
“Peggy, did you get Bucky yet?”
“No. I have a team out now.”
“Well tell them to hurry up about it, he’s nearby, in some sort of prison.”
Just then, as if a sign from up above, Peggy’s speaker crackled to life. “We’ve got him ma’am. Coming back to your location now.”
“Roger that.” Peggy turned back to Steve. “Howard, you gotta way to get these shackles off him?”
“Of course I do sweetheart.” Howard approached the table. There was some clicking, and after a minute of tinkering, the chains holding Steve down slackened. Rubbing his wrists, Steve sat up. “Let’s get out of here.”
Howard nodded. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
As Steve exited the room, Peggy handed over a gun. Together, they made their way down the hallway and met with the extraction team that had Bucky, still unconscious, with them.
“We have ten minutes tops to get out of here before Hydra picks up on the looped feeds. We go out the same way we came in, got it?”
The men nodded, and Peggy began to lead the way out. Steve followed, gun swinging wildly around each corner. They only encountered one Hydra agent during their exit, and once he saw how many people he was up against, he had gotten to knees and dropped his weapon.
In what could have only been three or four minutes, Steve found himself free once more, breathing in fresh air, sunlight spilling across his skin.
Once they were far enough away from the base, the agents Peggy had led broke off and filed into a government vehicle, dragging along an unconscious Arnim Zola. They left Bucky with Steve and Peggy as he began to wake up. But there was no time for Steve to check on his best friend. Instead, he turned to Howard, the anger he had felt building up finally having a target to latch onto.
“You fucking idiot Howard! Where’s Tony? Don’t lie—I know you were with him! How did he get here? What is he up to?” Steve grabbed Howard’s suit lapels. “I know he’s your son, but you don’t understand what he’s like. He’ll ruin everything I worked for—he couldn’t even sacrifice himself properly. You have to understand me—he will ruin our reality.”
“Funny.” Howard began, eyes wide. “He said the same thing about you.”
Steve chuckled bitterly, releasing Howard from his hold. The tech genius stumbled forward, but managed to stay upright.
“Howard, be serious. I need to know where he is.”
“Wait Steve—” Peggy interjected. “—I already talked to Howard. He said Tony’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
Peggy sighed, and Steve could sense the bad news before it came.
“He went back. Back to the future.”
The words hit like a slap and Steve reeled. After all he had done to get here, of course—of course. Tony Stark: the master of fucking things up. Yet again, he managed to ruin Steve’s life.
“Steve?” Peggy’s voice broke through the anger that was pooling in his gut. Had it been anybody else, Steve may not have been brought back: but for her—for her he could do anything.
Pushing past the veil of rage, Steve met her eyes. They were brown, deep and focused. He had never been more in love.
“It’s going to be alright Steve.” Peggy said, her voice firm. “We’ll figure something out.”
Steve nodded, and from the corner of his eye he saw Howard, bending over to help Bucky up.
“You're right.” Steve replied, turning toward Peggy. “We only have one option. We have to follow Tony. We have to go back.”
Standing up to his full, considerable height, Steve zeroed in on his target. “And Howard here is going to help us.”
Howard flushed, his eyes wide—like a deer in headlights. “I am?”
Steve nodded, popping his fingers, one by one. His knuckles cracked with each bend and Howard gulped, his Adam's apple flexing unconsciously.
“Yes Howard.” Steve murmured, voice mellow. “You are.”
Though they didn’t know it at the time, it would end up taking five months and a reluctant call to Hank Pym to eventually recreate the invention that took Tony Stark a week. It would be buggy, and the risk would be high, but by the luck that comes with being Captain America, Steve would find his way back, this time accompanied by a version of Bucky that never became the Winter Soldier and his beloved girlfriend, Peggy Carter.
———o0o———
THE ORIGINAL
THE OTHER’s voice was thick, like the sludgy innards of a half-cooked brownie, no doubt the result of using the mind stone from the other side of the galaxy.
“And who…” It began slowly, voice drawling. “...are you?”
Stephen fought against the pure terror that struggled for control over his mind and limbs. Forcing his way past a wall of memories, he forced his tongue to comply.
“I am a sorcerer of Earth and I am tasked with the protection of my people. Loki poses a threat to their safety and I am here to remedy it.”
“Well sorcerer.” THE OTHER began. “Loki is not the one you should be worried about.”
Almost against his will, Stephen looked back at the god, who lay dazed against the wall. “Yeah. I’m beginning to realize that.” Swallowing roughly, he turned back to Thanos’s henchman. “Which leaves me curious. How can anybody access somebody’s mind so thoroughly? You have devastated this mindscape beyond recognition.”
“You ask too many questions, sorcerer. Leave now, before I lose what little patience I have left and enter your mind as I did his.”
Stephen swallowed, twisting his hands for a cast.
“You know I can’t do that.”
THE OTHER grinned at Stephen’s reply, his blue skin stretching to a murky gray.
“I had hoped you would say that.”
THE OTHER’s body shuddered within Loki’s mindscape, turning translucent like rays of light that only became visible in the presence of dust. Then THE OTHER was gone.
Stephen took a deep breath, then two.
And in the next moment, his mind was assaulted. There was a jackhammer at the gates, each swing sending devastating pain through his brain. His thoughts scrambled, his copious memories seemed to vaporize into nothingness. For a moment, he was adrift in the agony.
But in the very back of his mind, he grasped onto consciousness with the desperation of a dying man, holding on despite the voracity of the attack. Even as he suffered unimaginable pain, his physical body bleeding from the eyes and ears, Stephen felt elated.
For THE OTHER had made a crucial mistake, no doubt the result of his very limited knowledge of true mind magics. The mind stone could provide brute strength, but without the ability to manipulate its power, its full potential could never be unlocked. THE OTHER used the stone as a battering ram instead of as a scalpel, and while he could pulverize thought, he left himself open to retaliation. By entering Stephen’s mind without protection, THE OTHER had inadvertently granted Stephen access to his own mindscape. Now, Stephen didn’t have to ask for permission to enter as their minds were themselves connected.
Knowing he had little time to act before even this last, hidden pocket of his mind was found and destroyed, Stephen reached out. Making contact with THE OTHER’s mind, his world fell away as he saw himself from THE OTHER’s perspective, then THE OTHER from his. Flipping back and forth in a sort of feedback loop, Stephen felt his stomach actively rebel and prayed to Merlin that Stark had enough sense to turn his body as he vomited.
Pushing against the stream of his-thought and foreign-thought, Stephen searched for a third presence within their conjoined consciousness.
Damnit—DESTROY HIM—taking too long I can’t—SORCERER IN MY WAY—for much longer—
—herei’mherehelpme—
Stephen found Loki’s presence, weak and throbbing and actually shaking in front of him and then there was pure terror because THE OTHER was controlling him and he couldn’t fight it off and he was going to KILL-EVERYBODY-HE-EVER-LOVED AND COULDN’T-HELP-HIMSELF AND WASSOSOSORRY—
Stephen grabbed what little presence of mind Loki had left and dived into THE OTHER’s thoughts, cutting the connection from the creature’s mindscape itself.
Then, there was silence.
Inside Loki’s now barren mind-space, Stephen let out a shaky sigh of relief. While Loki’s mind had been devastated, and his own gravely injured, they were no longer in immediate danger. It would take a while for THE OTHER to recover from being cut off, and only then could he reach out through the mind stone. And by the time that happened, Stephen would make sure that the stone was far enough away on the physical plane that it would pose no threat to them.
Gently extracting himself from Loki’s mind, Stephen returned to his own body and began the slow and arduous process of waking up.
———o0o———
What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.
There was blood leaking out of Stephen’s eyes.
Tony felt absolutely useless. Sitting between two unconscious bodies, he had no clue what to do. Fifteen minutes ago, Stephen had started throwing up and Tony had turned him to his side to prevent him from choking on his own breakfast. Ten minutes ago, Steve had finally stopped yelling at him, no doubt due to the rapid loss of color in both Loki and Stephen’s faces. Five minutes ago, Stephen’s heart rate had dropped to dangerous levels, his skin as cool as ice.
And throughout it all, Tony could do nothing but watch.
Screw magic. He thought, inner voice rough with anger. It’s all mumbo-jumbo. At least when we were facing Thanos I could actually see what I needed to fight.
“Tony?”
Feeling utterly miserable, Tony couldn’t contain his annoyance. “What do you need, Rogers? I’m a bit busy here.”
There was a snort. “Busy. Yes, I see that.” Steve’s voice came closer. “You know what Stark? Enough is enough. You haven’t given us any answers. Who is this man?” Steve’s hand appeared in the corner of Tony’s view range, pointing directly at Stephen's face. “For all we know he’s here helping the Asgardian. You know, the guy who was trying to kill us not too long ago.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes. The man who is currently bleeding out in front of us poses a huge threat.”
“You know what Stark?” Steve retorted, voice tightly controlled. “I don’t like your tone.”
“Well guess what Capsicle, I don’t like yours either, but you don’t hear me complaining.”
Now, Romonoff cut in. “Steve’s right, you know. He could be faking. We can’t take any risks. We know how dangerous Loki is. This guy was also talking about magic, he could be one of Loki’s henchmen.”
At that, Tony laughed aloud. “Stephen? Loki’s henchmen? I would’ve loved to see the look on his face had he heard that.”
“Well then— ” A new voice interjected, breaking off as it crackled into nothingness. Still laying down, Stephen cleared his throat, a hand rising to his forehead. The sorcerer winced, then continued. “—I guess your wish came true.”
But before Tony could even turn around, another beat him to it.
Thor came across the helicarrier faster than humanly possible. Before anybody had time to process, his hand was reaching out, groping for Strange’s neck. But before he could make contact, a green field rose from the ground.
“Hello brother.” Loki began, his voice threadbare and wavering. Despite his visible weakness, his hands were raised in what Tony recognized as a placating gesture: palms out, arms raised. “I believe we have much to discuss.”
Tony, and everybody else around the Norse god, stared.
“That is a bit of an understatement.” Stephen murmured softly, his face still smeared by blood.
Tony sighed, feeling a wave of resignation wash over him. Now that everything had calmed down, there was only one thought in his mind:
How the fuck am I supposed to explain this?
Notes:
Steve at the beginning of the fic: Glad I left Tony behind.
Steve a few minutes later: TONY!?! Damnit!
Tony more recently in the fic: Glad I left Steve behind.
Tony in future chapters: STEVE!?! Damnit!
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