Chapter Text
Stephen stared at his hands when the days of soul-wrenching pain finally faded away. There were scars, distinct against the paleness of his skin. His hands trembled, the pain an old, familiar friend.
How very interesting. And unexpected.
Time had bent to his whims and fate had acceded to his desires. But the process had not been painless and the future had left its mark. The scars were a gift from fate, no doubt, a reminder that no matter how strong he had become, that he was not all powerful. Fate had a very interesting sense of humor. But the injury was not the death knell that it had been the first time.
The part of him that was the Stephen Strange of this time was awash with anger and fear. Stephen soothed that part of himself easily. It was not a separate entity, more a slight shift as who he’d been pressed forward as a more distinct element of his person.
The limitations that had forced his hand before… they were not the limitations of now. Before he had not been able to stabilize his hands and still practice the mystic arts. He had simply not been powerful enough. A choice had needed to be made, and Stephen had chosen the path fate had led him to. Now… he focused dimensional energy into his hands, slowly stilling them until they carried the same surety that had made him the best neurosurgeon in the country.
A quick glamour hid his scars from sight.
He considered them for a moment before casting a careful, more powerful spell. A summer breeze gusted through his apartment, bringing with it fresh air.
Stephen nodded in satisfaction. Yes, he could still practice the mystic arts, even while keeping his hands stable, something he had not been capable of before. In truth, he hadn’t doubted he’d be able to. He’d been powerful enough to bend time and stabilize reality enough to get him to this point. Stabilizing his hands while channeling energy beyond that was a far smaller feat than that.
He dropped his hands and turned his attention to his apartment. It was clean, well-managed. Smaller than the last apartment he’d had before his accident. It felt vaguely sterile after years of living in the Sanctum where magic had been infused into even the smallest nail and it was odd not to see magic books littering his book shelves, though he certainly didn’t mind the medical texts.
Outdated as some of them no doubt were.
He smiled. This was not the home he remembered, but it was where he was meant to be. For now. He reached for his phone, grimacing a little at the outdated technology. Barely a smartphone. Still, it was enough for him to work with.
September of 2009.
Perfect.
He had debated with himself for months when to send himself back to. He had ached to return before 2008, where he could spare Tony from Afghanistan and the pain that had followed Tony for the rest of his life. It would steal Iron Man from the world, at least most likely, but Stephen could admit that it was a price he would personally be willing to pay, and while he was no Iron Man—he would never be the charismatic figure Tony had been, whose very existence had brought people hope—Stephen would do whatever he could for his Tony’s memory to make sure no one more got hurt.
But Tony… Tony had confessed to him—more than once, given the nature of his relationship with Tony—how much he’d hated himself in the time before Afghanistan, not even in hindsight, but even in the midst of living his life; he simply hadn’t seen a way to escape the ever-downward spiral he’d been caught in.
So, as much as Stephen never wanted to see Tony hurting, he’d chosen to arrive in a time after Afghanistan. If he was in the timeline when Tony was taken… no. Stephen wouldn’t be able to sit back, would never be able to sit there knowing Tony was being tortured, was in pain… so after Afghanistan it had been.
Which had narrowed things down to a ten year period. He knew when Tony got together with Miss Potts, just as he knew which time periods the two had been broken up. A terrible, selfish part of him—but then all of this was selfish, in a way, coming back, trying to have Tony as his own—didn’t want to let Potts ever have Tony. He knew Tony had loved her, knew that the two had been… happy, for the most part.
But Stephen could make Tony happy this time. He knew he could. He had millions of lives of proof of it, even if the Tony at this point in the timeline was not the Tony Stephen had once known. Stephen knew Tony’s heart, there were times when he’d literally held Tony’s soul, when they’d pushed themselves to desperate measures. He knew he loved Tony in his entirety, and Stephen had no doubt it included the Tony he had been before.
In the end, 2009 had felt like the best time. Before Tony got with Potts, long enough after Stane that Tony was no longer entirely on edge and would be willing to let someone new into his life, where Stephen would have fewer nightmares and trust issues to contend with. Not that Stephen expected a free ride in either area, not that he even wanted a free ride in that area outside of the fact that he wished Tony had never been hurt that way. But since those things had happened, he wanted to be there for Tony, to make sure that this time around Tony had the support he needed. The support Tony had always silently longed for and never been given unconditionally.
Now… Now Stephen just needed to figure out a way to meet Tony. Stephen would save the world, now that he was back in the past—and this time, this time maybe it would stay saved—but he had come for Tony. All for Tony.
But first… There was someone else Stephen needed to find.
-_-
The Sanctum hummed vibrantly as he stepped into it, recognizing him as a Sanctum Master while equally recognizing that its current Master was not him. It shifted in confusion and Stephen stilled it, reassuring that he was not here to cause harm.
No, he was merely here to retrieve a good friend, not that he wanted anyone to realize it was him. The longer no one knew about him, the better off he’d be. The magic Stephen had used to mask his identity was a relatively easy spell, even for someone who was not him.
He knew that the Ancient One had seen him in her visions of the future, and he didn’t feel the need to draw attention that he was… well, him. He’d been careful with his trip to the past, had done his best to ensure that it couldn’t be traced to him, even if he had no doubt that time had rippled at his arrival. He couldn’t be entirely sure if he’d managed—those six days of pain and adjustment had not been him at his most coherent, it was impossible to say if he’d maintained enough control through out all of it—but the fact that the Ancient One hadn’t searched him out, yet, made Stephen think he’d succeeded.
Stephen didn’t waste time, moving across the foyer and up the stairs to the relic room, ignoring the Sanctum’s gentle poke of curiosity. Better not to share too much, as the Sanctum would most certainly share all it learned with its current Master. Was it Master Drumm? Stephen didn’t actually know how long Drumm had been the Master in the time before his death. It was almost eight years before that point, now. Stephen could hardly expect to be certain on the roles each of the masters he’d known in the future played now.
He reached the relic room, striding past cases and podiums, moving directly to the Cloak’s case. The cloak had been in a gentle slumber for years before Stephen had bonded with it, a sort of awareness that had informed it when it was being appraised, but most of it had slumbered on, tired from the centuries it had lived.
When Stephen had hatched his plot to return through time, the cloak had made it very clear that it expected to be sent back as well. Stephen would have denied the cloak nothing, by then—his dearest companion, in so many ways—but there was the additional fact that Stephen did not wish to go alone, though he would have if it had come to it. The cloak was perhaps the only one, by then, that had understood him as he was. Even Wong didn’t quite understand everything that had happened to Stephen, and there were so many things it hurt too much to speak of.
The cloak was waiting for him when he arrived, alert and awake in a way that it wouldn’t have been during this time. The moment Stephen caught sight of it, he felt the bond they shared light up, re-established immediately. Warmth rushed through him. “Hello, friend,” he said. “We made it.” He waved his hand at the glass case and it vanished. The cloak floated out, examining itself, wiggling with delight when it realized that all of its own injuries that had been inflicted over the coming years had disappeared.
The cloak had worn the blue well, but it was good to have escaped that pain.
“Who are you?” called a voice, cold and unwelcoming and strangely familiar. “You are not welcome here.”
Stephen turned, blinking in surprise when he found Kaecilius standing there, though the lack of dark magic dripping from him almost made Stephen doubt his own recollection. Anger twisted through him, sharp and surprising. This man, this man had caused so much pain, so much grief. Had killed so many of those who had long trusted him, had threatened to send the world into timeless torture.
This man was, in many ways, a monster.
And to think, that at one point he had been trusted as a Sanctum Master, one of their most trusted positions. How far he had fallen.
Stephen had never known Kaecilius, had certainly been harmed by him in many ways, but never betrayed. The rest of Kamar-Taj had been. In the aftermath of Kaecilius, he had seen and heard that grief in so many different ways.
“That,” Stephen said. “Is none of your concern.”
“You are not welcome here,” Kaecilius told him. His gaze darted to the cloak, still fluttering between Stephen and its case. “Thief.”
Stephen scoffed. “I am no thief.” He straightened and the cloak rested itself on his shoulders, its own claim and statement in one. “Nor do I plan to stay. If you will excuse me.”
“I think not,” Kaecilius snapped. A gesture, and shields appeared at his hands, the magic humming in the air. “You are not leaving with the Cloak of Levitation.”
“Of course not,” Stephen said. “The cloak is leaving with me.” He continued on his path, unconcerned. Kaecilius sprung forward, lashing out and Stephen shifted out of his attack path. He spun wind in the air, catching Kaecilius mid-jump and sending him spinning back, crashing into the wall. Stephen followed up quickly, a containment spell at his fingers, slamming into Kaecilius’ chest before he could even fully straighten.
Kaecilius froze in temporary paralysis, his magic fizzling away from him as his connection to other dimensions was cut away.
Stephen stepped closer, examining him. His eyes caught sight of the sling ring attached to Kaecilius’ belt. Excellent. This was far easier than breaking into Kamar-Taj to retrieve one for himself. Stephen had learned how to create portals without his sling ring—he would never allow himself to be trapped by that limitation again—but just because he could, didn’t mean it wasn’t easier to use a sling ring. And he rather thought it would be quite the gift for Tony, who would revel in being able to examine and experiment with it.
He smiled at the thought.
He bent down and retrieved the sling ring from Kaecilius’ belt. “The paralysis will wear off soon,” Stephen told him. “No more than ten minutes. Your connection to the dimensional energies of this world will restore itself no later than thirty minutes after.”
Kaecilius’ eyes widened in fear.
Stephen hummed. “A precaution, you see. I want you to know that I can block you from your magic.” It hadn’t been necessary for this fight, but as a warning. “If I need to, I will block it permanently.” He smiled, though he was sure it did nothing to give Kaecilius relief. “So, think twice as you proceed Kaecilius, lest you cross lines that should not be crossed.” Stephen wouldn’t hurt Kaecilius preemptively. It wasn’t in his nature. But he would warn him. “Because should you ever choose a path that places this world and its people in danger of harm, I will strip you of your ability to touch dimensional energy from you.”
Admittedly, given the strength of Kaecilius’ future zealotry, that might not be enough. From everything Stephen had learned in the aftermath, Kaecilius had always worked well with others and had exuded a charisma that pulled many of the students at Kamar-Taj with him. Stephen imagined Kaecilius would be more than willing to proselytize and delegate if necessary. There were other ways to contain a threat like Kaecilius, though, and Stephen had learned his lesson a long time ago, sometimes there was no choice but to do what needed to be done.
Dormammu would never be allowed entrance to earth.
Stephen stepped back and away from Kaecilius and the Cloak drifted over, draping itself over Stephen’s shoulders. The sheer rightness of the connection gave Stephen a moment pause. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment. But he didn’t allow himself to be distracted for long. He turned away from Kaecilius and strode back down the stairs and out the door of the Sanctum. As he stepped out of the Sanctum, the cloak shifted into a comfortable jacket.
Stephen smiled. Perfect.
Now it was time to go find Tony.
-_-
Watching Tony, Stephen found quickly, was an exquisite torture. He was still searching for the best way to meet Tony, which meant that for now he could only watch from a distance as he dealt with getting his own life in order, including a gentle, careful breakup with Christine, promising that he wanted to remain her friend, but that she earned someone who would love her the right way.
The part of him that was more attuned to this time in his life had been conflicted, but that part of him had had time to adapt, could feel and see Stephen’s goal. And as Stephen started watching Tony, that part eased even more, seeing in Tony what the rest of Stephen already did.
Stephen had started simple and unobtrusive, scrying for Tony and finding him in his lab. It had taken his breath away and he’d had to steady himself before he’d been able to continue. This was a Tony he had never had the opportunity to know and there was something beautiful about it.
This Tony had chosen a purpose for himself and was throwing everything he was into it. This was before the heavy pressure of Thanos—though Tony hadn’t known who it was that haunted his dreams—had fallen on his shoulders after the invasion. This was before Tony had become Atlas and Cassandra in one. This Tony was reckless and brave and Stephen wanted so much to see him truly. To see the brightness in Tony’s eyes without the subtle filter of scrying magic that made the vision possible.
It only took three days for some of that exhilaration to fade. Because Stephen had known Tony had been sick during this time, but he’d never seen it. He’d conceptually known the affects of heavy metal poisoning, had even seen it a few times as a doctor, but Tony’s situation was entirely unique in so many ways and Stephen itched to do something to help. Watching Tony spend mornings throwing up in the bathroom, watching him throw back chlorophyll smoothie after chlorophyll smoothie—both a necessity to help with the heavy metal poisoning and one of the few things Tony could keep down when thing were particularly unpleasant—watching his shoulders slump and his stress heighten every time he checked his blood toxicity to see it climbing ever slowly higher… it left a pained, helpless feeling in Stephen’s chest.
Stephen had known before he’d even made the trip to the past that he would be changing things, but there were certain things he didn’t want to change, or more accurately, things he didn’t want to steal from Tony. The new element Tony had created to save his life had been both an incredible breakthrough in clean energy for earth which had played a vital but more subtle role in protecting the world and a victory for Tony that Stephen had no desire to take from him.
That was a balance Stephen wasn’t entirely sure how he would navigate. He would protect Tony with everything he had. He would most certainly protect the world from the many threats that would endanger it. But he did not want to cosset Tony; nor, he knew, would Tony ever want to be cosseted. Tony would be entirely aggravated by the implication that Stephen thought he needed to be protected from any little thing. Tony was fiercely independent and he found purpose in protecting others. Neither of those were things that Stephen wanted to ever take from him.
It was something Stephen would have to figure out as he went. First he needed to ‘meet’ Tony. That was, after all, the first step to convincing Tony to let Stephen be a part of his life. Despite how well he knew Tony, he found himself uncertain how that first meeting would go. In part, because he wasn’t entirely sure how well he’d be able to control himself when finally face to face with Tony. Tony who he had missed for so long. Tony who, even while slowly dying, remained so very vibrant, that Stephen felt like a moth called to flame.
He did not, however, want to give the wrong impression. He needed to contain himself. Control himself. He could not ruin things before he even had a chance to start something. Eventually, he would be able to be himself freely. In all of their time together, even Stephen at his most intense and devoted and extreme had never really bothered Tony. Tony accepted and adapted and, if Stephen was honest, reveled in Stephen’s intensity.
Beyond that, he had often come to match Stephen’s intensity.
To be so loved…
Stephen closed his eyes at the memory of those moments, fighting his own longing. He couldn’t say whether that would happen here. He didn’t know if this Tony would give him a chance. Didn’t know if this Tony would ever fall in love with him.
Stephen knew he could, that Stephen was a good match for Tony in so many ways. he knew that Stephen could make Tony happy in a way no one else ever would. That didn’t mean, however, that Tony would choose him or the love and life that Stephen was so willingly—maybe even desperately—offering him.
Not that Stephen planned on coming off as desperate.
But this… all of this… everything he’d done… it was for Tony.
The sound of an email coming in caught his attention and Stephen smiled as the sender indicated it was from the medical gala organizer that Stephen had sent out feelers to, noting his interest in the medical gala that would be hosted in a few weeks. They’d answered his questions and informed him that his invitation to the event was in the mail and would arrive soon, should he wish to attend.
Tony would be at this gala.
Therefore, Stephen very much wished to attend.
He looked over at the image of Tony where his scrying mirror was still showing Tony in his lab, currently teasing DUM-E, so happy and so alive.
And soon Stephen would be able to see him in person.
Soon.