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Title from - and inspired by - this lovely song.
It’s one of those days for Stephen – the ones he wakes up to and realizes with every fiber of his broken being that his whole life is in more pieces than the bones in his hands and that picking those pieces up and rebuilding might not really be worth the effort anymore.
He stares at the stone ceiling of his Kamar-Taj cell until Mordo grows tired of waiting for him to attend their morning training routine and barges inside, all but dragging his sorcerer-apprentice ass into the courtyard. The training is futile of course. He can’t focus on the solid pavement underneath his feet let alone some abstract spell they’re learning today.
It’s days like these Stephen wonders what’s he even doing, really. Learning the mystic arts – his unhelpful brain supplies, but what purpose will that have? When he learns, what’s he going to do then?
Heal? Go back to New York? Be a doctor again? It’s a possibility. Or he could stay here, become a sorcerer and do that for the rest of his life.
He had a clear purpose – as a doctor. He saved lives and he was damn good at it, too. Mordo often tells him that mastering the mystic arts will allow him to save more lives than he could have ever hoped to as a doctor should he follow the path the Ancient One sets him onto…yet somehow that’s not helping Stephen one bit with the veil of gloom settling inside his heart and soul today.
On days like these, he wonders what’s left for him to live for.
“Stop,” the Ancient One slowly drawls out, the p piercing through the silence of the room they’re currently meditating in. Well, she is – Stephen is trying and failing to. “You are projecting thoughts as dark as the Dark Dimension while you should be finding your center, calming your mind.”
Easy for her to say.
“We all have our demons, Stephen. They plague us every step of the way, every day. You can either succumb – or stand up to them.”
“How?” he asks, knowing the answer will be more cryptic than a fortune cookie note.
“They are your demons. You must find a way.”
“Called it,” he mumbles, opening his eyes to glare at his teacher. “Why are you doing this?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her face still as composed as ever.
“Why did you allow me back here? To teach me this stuff? Anyone with half your insight could tell I’m a lost cause but you still bother anyway. Magic…,” he scoffs, lowering his fiery gaze down to stare at the cracks in the wooden floor. “I can’t even write my name anymore without it looking like a childish scribble and you expect me to be able to do all this fancy stuff you do with your hands now?!”
“You reminded me of someone I taught before.”
The straightforward answer snaps his eyes back up, meeting two curious pale eyes in return.
“From the moment you stepped inside Kamar-Taj. Clinging to science and all your worldly wisdoms, refusing to open your mind to what may lie beyond the constraints of your imagination.”
“You say that as if people coming here not believing in the magic talk you are selling are a rarity,” he rolls his eyes, not missing the slightly disappointed look she sends him.
“Even your skepticism and hurt, all so poorly disguised by deprecating humor is something you and him shared. You both came here looking for something. It is up to you to find it.”
“Did he?”
“Eventually. Once he shed his stubborn shell, forgot everything he thought he knew…once he realized magic and science aren’t two completely separated entities, he worked and studied day and night until he found the answer. Maybe it wasn’t the one he came looking for here, but he found it nonetheless. With the newly found knowledge, he stood up to fight his demons – and returned victorious.”
“Are you making all this up?” Stephen sighs, feeling like he’s part of a twisted group therapy session and the Ancient One is just throwing him some unlikely story about how someone succeeded at where he’s already failing.
“Oh I wish I was,” she actually cracks a smile. “He was the most difficult student I’ve ever had – until now at least. But I refused to give up on him no matter how easy it would have been…no matter how easy he was trying to make it for me to throw him back on the streets and never look back. And so, I fully intend to not give up on you either.”
She looks and sounds determined, the tiny smile playing on her lips drawing all sorts of blanks inside his head.
It’s days like these Stephen entertains the estranged thought that maybe there’s still a whole lot more to live for.
“I’m returning these,” he bursts into the library just few days after the Ancient One practiced the old technique of ‘throwing people into water to teach them how to swim’ on him.
He’s not complaining, although the thought of freezing to death on Mount Everest is still rather…chilling.
But he did it. He created the portal. And if he can make a silly little portal, he can sure as hell do a lot more. Nothing can stop him now. He thirsts for more, the knowledge, the skills, the everything.
He tackled medicine back when his nights were either spent buried in books or partying hard on campus – now that his partying days are over, he can set his mind on the mystic arts and tackle it all the better.
And faster, if the astral thing this book mentions is really a thing.
“Astral projection? You’re not ready for that,” Wong squints at him when he presents his request.
He gives him the books anyway. Stephen likes the guy. To anyone else he might just be a stoic, boring librarian but Stephen saw right through him the first time they met.
“Wong? Just Wong? Like Adele?”
“No. Like Beyoncé.”
Wong delivered the comeback with his perfect resting bitchface and shamelessly went back to listening to All the single ladies on his StarkPad.
That’s where he decided they’ll be best of friends. Or something in that area since he’s not quite in the friends business.
As it turns out, a lot of sorcerers are not really in the friends business – like Kaecilius.
Stephen studies, he practices and he also messes with the Eye of Agamotto and the natural order. Whatever punishment would follow after the lecture he receives from both Mordo and the Ancient One is put on hold when the London Sanctum is attacked by the obviously unfriendly sorcerer.
Before anyone can react in any way, the Sanctum’s defenses are destroyed and Stephen finds himself thrown across the room, nearly buried in rubble.
Evil sorcerers threatening to invite immortal demons into this dimension is so not what he signed up for.
He pulls himself together and explores the unknown place he is now the involuntary guest of. It’s an old building with a similar vibe Stephen grew accustomed to in Kamar-Taj. One could almost taste the magic in the air and feel the power of the artifacts residing here.
It would feel just as ancient and mystical as Kamar-Taj if it weren’t for all the high-tech equipment scattered through or even made part of the building. Old furniture pieces mix with new ones, the 1930-looking gramophone nearby is riddled with LED displays and other clearly unoriginal, modern parts and there’s a tablet or a screen mounted on the walls at every corner.
The artifacts on display have parchment sticky notes all over them or the glass paneling containing them…funny notes, too. Goblet of Fire, The Infuriating Flying Carpet, Book of Bullshit…there’s a painting of some guy on the wall that has the head all smudged away and someone drew it back Mr. Bean style.
Most noticeably, this place has floor heating – something Stephen almost forgot existed. Kamar-Taj isn’t cold or anything, although the nights get real chilly sometimes and they have enough heating spells to use when needed…but there’s something about going around in nothing but socks and having the warmth from the floor itself seep through them.
Very…homey.
The place is like the weirdest mixture of days long passed and the present – if not the future. Whoever set it up this way really made it work, too. It isn’t cringey or too over the top – the old and the new simply fits together.
“Welcome to the New York Sanctum, Mister…?”
Hhe nearly shits his pants when the Brittish voice comes straight out of the wall he backs away from like it burns.
“The fuck?!” he blurts out, frantically searching for the source of the voice.
“My apologies, sir. I am JARVIS and I protect the Sanctum while the Master is away.”
“Oh,” he relaxes somewhat and clears his throat. “You uh…are you in your astral form or…invisible?”
“You could say that, Mister…?”
“Doctor Strange. Look, something’s going down, the London Sanctum was attacked and…can you come meet me? It’s really weird talking to myself here.”
“I have alerted the Master the second you came blasting through the Kamar-Taj doorway. What exactly is the nature of the att…oh,” JARVIS comes to an abrupt stop.
“Oh? What do you mean oh?!”
“According to my latest updated list of sorcerers you are still a recruit, Doctor. I suggest you portal back to Kamar-Taj for the time being.”
“Wh - ? I’m not…they’re here, aren’t they?” he whispers and ignoring JARVIS’s suggestion completely, he moves to the stairwell leading down to the hall.
As he suspected, Kaecilius along with his two minions are slowly making their way through the doors, hands raised in multiple different spells Stephen doesn’t recognize, pushing through an invisible sort of force that’s trying to stop their advance.
They make it inside the lobby just as someone in a brown cape walks up to meet them from around the stairs.
Kaecilius squints his creepy, purple-laden eyes at the person and seems surprised. “You?! They made you the Master of the New York Sanctum?!”
“Yeah, I know. I tried telling the Ancient One she should just retire to finally get her ancient pension and let me be Sorcerer Supreme…but I settled for this,” the man replies, a grin clearly audible in the statement.
“Can’t say I’m surprised she would stoop so low.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised you would go insane, steal a page about summoning demons and then get possessed by Cthulhu…or whatever, seriously. Purple is so not your color…although you get points for the glitter, I guess. Is that glitter?”
Stephen frowns at the apparent Master of this Sanctum and wonders where the hell did he hear this voice before. He seems to remember hearing this exact tone from someone somewhere.
Kaecilius sighs, obnoxiously loud. “Good small talk, Stark. Now, if you don’t mind?” he asks and the lobby suddenly erupts into motion.
“Thought you’re here for the tea!” the Master retorts as he deflects an onslaught of attacks with a flurry of hand signs and a spell that makes the attacks explode into…glitter.
Stephen watches the three sorcerers surround the Mast…wait, did he say Stark?!
He makes a double take at the scene and sure enough, as the man moves around enough for Stephen to catch a glimpse of his now unhooded face, it is Tony Stark himself.
Wearing a Jedi robe. Not something like the Jedi robe, nope. An actual, faithful cosplay of one.
Did Stephen hit his head this bad?! Is this his concussed brain giving him weird hallucinations now?
Stark fends off another barrage of spells and conjures up a crimson sword and shield, deflecting Kaecilius’s dagger. Head injury or not, Stephen decides the odds aren’t looking much in Stark’s favor with him outnumbered and surrounded, so he takes one of Kaecilius’s minions by surprise and attacks the guy with his magic lasso.
His sudden appearance halts the fight for just a second with everyone else frowning at him – which Stark takes an immediate advantage of and shield-slams into the woman minion to his right.
Kaecilius refocuses his dagger advances on Stephen within seconds and he finds himself backing up the stairs, trying to avoid the crystalline weapon. Mordo didn’t go easy on him during their training sessions but the flurry of precise attacks Kaecilius attacks him with are like nothing his teacher exposed him to before.
“Fight! Fight like your life’s depending on it! Because one day, it might,” Mordo used to tell him.
Today’s the day.
So Stephen fights with everything he has, even if he ends up just defending and backing all the way into the hall leading to the artifact room.
After failing to block a spell and ending up thrown down on his ass, he comes up and summons the only shield spell he learnt thus far…and is only half-successful.
Kaecilius zeroes in on the flickering shield and raises an eyebrow at him, somewhat relaxing his offensive stance. “I’m sorry, who are you, Mister…?”
“Doctor,” he can’t help himself to retort again.
“Mister Doctor?” Kaecilius frowns.
“It’s Strange,” Stephen huffs, glaring at him.
The sorcerer nods with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe. Who am I to judge?”
That’s it. If he didn’t hate the guy before, he sure as hell does now.
He swings the ropes at him and they go back to exchanging blows. It’s not going too well for Stephen though. If Kaecilius’s collected demeanor is anything to go by, he’s just toying with him, not even fazed by any of his attacks.
He ends up flying through one of the glass displays and helplessly watches the dagger move toward his chest.
Surprising them both, the red cape previously contained in the case quickly intercepts the weapon and shoves Kaecilius back, making him stumble.
Stephen gets back on his feet, running further into the room to look for anything he could use to fight. He grabs the glowing cup that has the Goblet of Fire sticker on it, pointing it at the approaching sorcerer as a threat. “A-ha!”
For the first time since the beginning of their exchange, there is something akin to fear in the man’s eyes. He visibly reels back and away from Stephen for a moment, only to relax once again.
“You don’t know how to use that, do you?” he asks in a condescending tone.
Stephen looks at the cup, then back at the smug sorcerer and just throws is at him.
It has no effect of course. Kaecilius deflects it and obviously growing tired of the fight, he renews his attacking effort.
The Cloak flies in just in time to save him from what would definitely be a nasty fall and settled on his shoulders, it joins in the fight with him. For what appears to be a simple piece of cloth, it’s not only very durable but also strong, quick…and it fights dirty.
After another trade of spells and dagger swings, Kaecilius suddenly widens his eyes and in the next second he’s dodging out of the way of something fast and red.
Red and gold, Stephen realizes, watching what he now recognizes as the Iron Man armor descend in front of him and fire are the sorcerer.
Kaecilius deflects the shots and in a last ditch effort, he tries ignoring the armor and sends a burst of purple energy straight at Stephen. It’s too fast for him to come up with a shield and even though the Cloak moves to intercept the spell, Stephen anticipates the worst.
He closes his eyes and waits for the impact. It’s loud, warm and when he takes a peek, he finds himself and the immediate area covered in fluttering, colorful glitter.
“You done harassing the apprentice, Ditto?”
Kaecilius sends a fiery glare to somewhere over Stephen’s shoulder and stands down. “This is happening, Stark. Nobody can stop it. Not even you,” he warns and disappears into a portal.
“Pffft…for now I can.”
Stephen turns around, frowning at the mess of a man standing there with arms raised and a spell still circling his wrists.
“The Sanctum’s wards are back up, Sir.”
Only then, Stark relaxes his battle-stance and lowers his hands. “Thanks, J. Call Kamar-Taj, tell the Old and Bald One to come explain what the fuck is going on. I know the dude stole some naughty pictures from her super-advanced Lovecraftian summoning book, but he’s taking it too far now,” he walks around Stephen as if he’s air, inspecting the giant mess the artifact room is in. “Great. Tell DUM-E to come clean this up. That’s second time this month! First Odin goes all touchy on everything in here and now this! I swear we can’t have nice things.”
There’s a high-pitched whine coming from downstairs that keeps on repeating every few moments and Stark’s complete ignorance of it – and him – is making Stephen uneasy.
“Uhm…,” Stephen clears his throat, while the funky cloak moves his hems to get rid of the glitter covering them.
Stark whirls around with widened eyes, as if he forgot Stephen was even still there. “You! Harry Potter! You have a death wish?!”
“Excuse me?”
“Unbelievable,” he whispers, narrowing his eyes at the cloak. “And they tell me I have zero self-perseverance. Next time JARVIS tells you to run for it, you run for it. One trip to Hogwarts and they all think they can battle Voldemort,” he adds in a whisper again.
The whining is slowly turning into painful grunts, but Stephen is too busy with the Master of the New York Sanctum to care.
“Oh my bad. I’m so sorry for trying to help you! Douchebag,” he utters under his breath, earning an alarmed flare of fabric from the cloak and one pointed glare from Stark.
“I wouldn’t call sheer dumb luck an attempt to help me. Kaecilius could have ended you like that!” Stark flicks his fingers and stomps over to the goblet lying on the floor nearby.
“But he didn’t.”
“Sure did not. I won’t say no to thank-you cards, but I’m thinking a nice bottle of whiskey would be appropriate given the circumstance. You know, whenever you’re ready to thank me for saving your ass.” He picks up the goblet and brings it back to its former place on the pedestal.
That’s where Stephen runs out of arguments and rather than saying something stupid, he refocuses on the distressed yelps coming from the lobby. “What is that?! Are you hearing this?”
“Don’t mind that. It’s…what’s-his-name. I never bothered asking,” he shrugs, looking around the messed up room. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and clean some of this up before the Zentient One gets here and I’ll go dispatch the minions. Hey, Alexa!” he calls ahead and the gramophone suddenly comes alive with a series of beeps and colorful pictures on the led screen. “Play some dank music, why don’t ya?”
‘They see me rollin’, they hatin’, patrolling and tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty ~’
Stark nods in approval – and in rhythm, walking back to the stairs.
“Chamillionaire? Seriously?” Stephen cringes but gets to the cleaning task at hand, if only to avoid Stark’s smug grin.
When Mordo and the Ancient One arrive some time later, the Sanctum is almost in a presentable state again. Two weird robots joined Stephen upstairs tidying up, although he could swear they made more mess than they cleaned.
“Finally! Where were you two at?! Getting your heads waxed?” Stark appears out of nowhere to meet the two sorcerers.
It’s one thing making fun of the Ancient One behind her back…but straight into her face? And Mordo’s?! And the douchebag had the audacity to question Stephen’s self-perseverance.
“We secured Kamar-Taj and began restoring the London Sanctum,” the Ancient One answers without skipping a beat. “I am glad Kaecilius was unsuccessful here. I expected as much,” she even gives Stark a tiny smile.
“Did you now? Is that why you sent your Padawan in here to help?”
“We got separated during the attack, nobody sent him here,” Mordo replies with a lot less patience.
“But it is good to hear Doctor Strange was of help to you,” she adds.
“Help to m…he almost got himself killed!”
“While distracting Kaecilius enough for you to take care of the rest!” Stephen rolls his eyes and snaps at the man. “I’ll just watch them kill you next time.”
“Please! You might learn a thing or two. By all the motherfucking Vishanti, you should have seen him!” he all but yells into the Ancient One’s face. “He fought Kaecilius with the Chalice of Eternal Suffering!” he points an accusing finger at the cup.
“He did?!” Mordo blurts out and actually sounds impressed and even the Ancient One raises an eyebrow in interest.
“Oooooooh but he didn’t use it to, you know, inflict eternal suffering. Oh no. He just grabbed the most powerful relic in this entire building and YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETED it at him! JARVIS’s got it all on tape, it’s fucking priceless I’m telling you. Just watching it once almost cured my depression!”
“How was I supposed to know what the thing does?! You have it labeled as The Goblet of Fire!” Stephen pouts.
“If I recall, you kept using the Cauldron of Cosmos as a trash can for months,” the Ancient One mentions with an amused glint in her eyes.
Stark raises his chin and folds his arms. “Because that’s the only thing it’s good for anyway. Fight me on it.”
“Looks like the Cloak of Levitation found someone to keep company, at last,” she changes the subject, nodding at…the Cloak still around his shoulders. “You must be happy about that since it gave you so much grief.”
That gets Stark properly fuming just then. “It. Did not. Give me any grief. At all.”
“Sure,” Mordo chuckles. “That’s why you ended up surrounding it with magically enhanced glass display?”
“And labeling it with the Infuriating Flying Carpet?” Stephen adds, never missing an opportunity to add in some fire.
“You should zip it, Doctor Who. You’re lucky I’m not putting your remains on display right now, because that’s what you’d be if I didn’t step in.”
“You’re just jealous the Cloak likes me,” he deadpans.
“The Cloak’s an asshole! As far as I’m concerned, it was seeking a kindred spirit!”
“Still – jealous.”
“Of what? It’s not even that fashionable to begin with.”
“Says the guy wearing a Jedi robe!”
Stark purses his lips, the glare that was slowly forming suddenly intensifies. “We can’t all randomly appear in public looking like homeless, destitute samurai. This…is the perfect disguise. Practical and nerdy enough nobody even questions it. Instead of a destitute samurai, it’s Tony-Wan Kenobi,” he smirks.
“Oh well. The Cloak would be too long for you anyway,” Stephen shoots back and if looks could kill, he would be a burned out husk on the floor right now.
“As…entertaining as this is to observe,” the Ancient One clears her throat and steps in between them. When did they get so close anyway?! “We must renew our efforts to find Kaecilius and stop him from further destruction.”
“Yeah, you go do that. I’ll protect the Sanctum. If your Cthulhu obsessed student thinks he can just waltz in here and take down my defenses on my watch, he’s fucking dreaming,” Stark huffs and stomps away. “And take your smart-ass wizard with you!” he adds over his shoulder.
“Stark is the Master of the New York Sanctum? How did that happen?” Stephen asks the Ancient One the second they’re back in Kamar-Taj.
“I believe I have already told you that story once before. Of a student so stubborn – yet so determined I could not give up on him.”
“Ughhhh. You were talking about him?! You compared me to Tony Stark?! Please, I’m nothing like him.”
She gives him that same, discreet smile she’s so fond of sending in Stark’s direction and tilts her head. “Careful there, Stephen. The more you speak, the more you remind me of him in every way.”
“You know what? Forget it.”
“In every way - but that of the Mystic Arts. You learn quick and your dedication and talent is undisputable. Yet you do have a long way to go before you can stand equal to him. He is years ahead of you, years he spent training with as much fervor and dedication as you are now. Think what you will of the man you only just met – Anthony Stark is a closed book very few will ever get to read the actual chapters of. Do remember though, that he earned his title and position with nothing else but skill, hard work and his undying determination to protect this planet and dimension. It’s a thankless job with no worldly gains, just sacrifices and pains.”
He stares at her hardened expression and after he reboots his brain for the third time, he realizes he’s just witnessed the Ancient One both praising and defending Tony Stark in a span of few sentences. And with so much respect it nearly makes his head spin again.
Ever the observer, she cracks her stare with another one of those smiles that he’s now recognizing as a privilege for him to see. “Do be careful, Stephen. He enjoyed you, but be careful.”
They move on to regroup and Stephen’s left wondering if he should be careful because he’ll otherwise get his ass kicked by Stark – or by the Ancient One herself.
Probably both.
Later , when him and Mordo are stuck in the mirror dimension fighting the ugly-faced sorcerer and his equally ugly-faced minions – minus one, he’s still not ready to question his stance on the Mystic Arts just yet. He went to Kamar-Taj to heal his hands, not to learn magic and fight evil Cthulhu worshippers.
He’s a doctor. First and foremost. Fighting is simply not in his nature – at least not in the violent sense. Kaecilius and his lot fight to harm. To torture. To kill. Stephen can never match that motivation.
And it shows in the way he fights. Even if he had the knowledge and the skill-set, the enemies would still have that special something in their repertoire against him. That little flare of extra violence he has no way of finding in himself.
At the same time – and that’s the real issue here – he can’t let Mordo and the Ancient One do all the fighting by themselves either. He wouldn’t exactly call it an undying need to protect…but if there is anything in his nature other than driving people mad with his wannabe snarky comments and arrogant attitude, it’s helping people. Saving lives.
It’s the doctor part of him - currently as useless with these hands as a pair of wooden scissors - that’s refusing to back out of the fight.
The issue of course is that this lovely part of him is also going to be the death of him as a result.
How can he be so smart and stupid at the same time?!
When the Ancient One intervenes and her own true nature is revealed, it’s more of a shock to Mordo than him. Unexpected – yes. Surprising, not that much. Hypocritical? Kinda.
Unlike Kaecilius though, the Ancient One is not using the power from the Dark Dimension to summon world-destroying demons. And that’s enough for Stephen to move on from the fact.
The mirror dimension they are stuck fighting in becomes a deadly trap, a battlefield only two soldiers are able to really fight in – and it’s certainly not Stephen and Mordo. In the end, it leaves the Ancient One trying to both attack Kaecilius while defending them.
They can only watch as she fails to defend herself and plummets out of the dimension and out into the real world, piercing through the air like an unstoppable bullet, unconscious and unable to do anything to save herself.
Stephen shoots after her ad so does Mordo, but they only have seconds. Not enough to conjure a spell, not enough for the Cloak to get to her. All their training and when it matters the most it’s just not enough.
Before he can watch her teacher hit the ground at a speed that most normal humans without any protective wards on their person wouldn’t survive even in their wildest dreams, a flash of red and gold shoots out of nowhere and envelops her limp body, a burst of fire coming from the feet and hands nearly instantly breaking her fall.
Him and Mordo run up to her now armored, lying body on the pavement as a circle of curious and startled onlookers gather around.
“How do you get this thing off?” Stephen huffs, his doctor mode initiating on instinct and ready to check her for any injuries.
“Try asking nicely, JARVIS is all about politeness,” Stark marches to where they’re kneeling to loud gasps and clicks of phones from the surrounding crowd.
The armor retreats enough to reveal her still blissfully unconscious form and Stephen wastes no time and checks her vital signs.
Pulse stable, breathing even, possible slight concussion from the blast Kaecilius inflicted. She’ll be fine.
He breathes a sigh of relief, all but collapsing into a sitting position on the cold ground.
“J? Talk to me,” Stark prompts his…who is JARVIS anyway? An actual person monitoring everything behind the scenes? An AI? Probably the latter.
“Mild concussion and minor bruises, nothing life-threatening. She should regain consciousness momentarily,” JARVIS pretty much sums up what Stephen found out as well, his voice coming straight out of the opened helmet.
Just as the AI predicts, few moments later she grunts and cracks her eyes open with confusion written all over them.
“I don’t wanna say I told you so…but I did tell you those bracelets are gonna be a life-saver one day. Not to mention they are cool and match every outfit and occasion. Come on. Aren’t you glad you kept wearing them?” Stark winks down at her.
“After all these years,” she whispers, “and you can still surprise me.”
“It’s one of my many hidden talents,” he grins but it instantly breaks into a painful grimace and he sways on his feet.
Still half-way stuck in doctor mode, Stephen reaches out to steady him.
“Stark?”
“Hm,” he nods, eyes scrunched close as he takes a few loud breaths. “Welp. There goes the New York Sanctum,” he says and they can all feel the ripple of dark magic that destroys the fibers of the protective shield. “Can’t even take two minutes to go save lives…this dude is serious, alright? Who’s in Hong Kong?”
“Wong is checking - ”
Stark facepalms and starts forming a portal. “You sent Beyoncé there alone?! Oh for fuck’s sake.”
Stephen wouldn’t admit it to a living soul – maybe not even his own – but whatever it is the Ancient One is seeing in Stark, he might be beginning to see as well. He’s never really put much thought into the billionaire. Why would he? It’s not like they would ever meet, even back when Stephen surfed through every prestigious social event it was highly unlikely.
Their fields of expertise don’t really cross.
The closest he’s ever seen the man before stumbling into the Sanctum was during the Battle of New York. It was hard to miss Iron Man playing mouse with a space whale around the city. The Avengers saved a lot of lives that day and so did he and the doctors at the Metro General.
Maybe their fields of expertise always kinda crossed.
Whatever the case, his opinion was about the same as everyone else’s – divided. Some love him, some hate him. Admire him, respect him…detest him, blame him…it was all the same for Stephen. He didn’t have time to pay attention to gossip anyway. And oh did everyone in his circles loved to gossip about the man.
After barely a day since meeting him in person, Stephen can safely say most of the hateful gossipers would be…disappointed.
Instead of the arrogant narcissist he expected based on everyone’s uneducated opinion, he’s everything but that.
He’s snarky, sarcastic, doesn’t respect authorities and gets competitive faster than Stephen ever had – a notable feat. All of that mixed together might be easily mistaken for arrogance at times. Maybe. But narcissist? Not by a long shot.
Having been called one himself many times, he would know.
If nothing else, people won’t see many narcissists risk their lives for others without even thinking about it. Without expecting any sort of reward or thanks. Without a single benefit to it of any kind. Even with fame and fortune at stake, they would still think twice before waging their oh so important lives.
As the Hong Kong street leading up to the Sanctum returns to its bustling activity, the portal to the Dark Dimension closed and gone – hopefully forever, Stephen knows two things after this long, long day.
First, he wants to continue studying the Mystic Arts instead of returning to his old life he yearned for so much since the accident – turns out encounters with evil sorcerers and uncountable of deaths dealt by a demon from another dimension can properly shift one’s priorities.
And second – everyone is wrong about Tony Stark. Judging from the self-deprecating jokes he so stealthily inserts into his banter, even Tony Stark is probably wrong about himself. So, so wrong…
“Stop freaking out, Monroe! You and your natural order is going to give us all an aneurysm.”
There. Only Stark can completely derail Mordo’s train of thought from the moral dilemma he’s having by calling him some weird name and adding a quick quip on top of it.
“It is true! And stop calling me that!”
“Pray tell then, Mordor, how can you break natural order with the Time stone – a thing that’s been created with the universe itself! Time is a very natural thing, you know? And I’ll be more than happy to explain to you all the very real possibilities of reversing time using a number of quantum physics theories and - ”
“Stop!” Mordo sighs in utter defeat. “Fine. You…may perhaps have a point. That doesn’t change the fact you lied to us. You lied to us all,” he turns to the equally defeated-looking Ancient One.
Did they not just win?! He didn’t die a thousand deaths so everyone can wallow in defeat!
Stark shakes his head, stepping in between Mordo and the Ancient One. “Okay. Nope. Can we not? How about we go celebrate the desummoning of Cthulhu – and by celebrate I mean get royally wasted? Party first, lecturing the Fakecient One later. Geez, Mordo…if I wanted a daily dose of accusative pessimism I’d go live with the Avengers,” Stark rolls his eyes and nods at Stephen. “Gin or whiskey?”
“Excuse me?”
“You a gin or a whiskey man? Come on Doctor Propper, keep up. The Dankcient One likes her saké, Mordo is a boring beer guy and Beyoncé – surprisingly – knows her Caribbean rums.”
“I second this party idea,” Wong nods in approval.
“We must go restore the Sanctums,” the Ancient One protests.
“What? You can’t multitask? I’m disappointed in you Master One-Kenobi.”
“Tony,” she gives him the reprimanding stare, only in Stark’s case it has zero effect.
“What?!” he repeats. “Your Padawan just saved the day so be a cool teacher and give him recess. Mordo will handle London, you and Wong get Hong Kong back in order and me and JARVIS will have New York up and running in no time. Easy. And then we hit Kamar-Taj with all the booze I can portal in and celebrate the fact we’re not Cthulhu snacks.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Stephen adds. “Surprisingly great, considering who came up with it,” he shoots at Stark, but his lips are quirked in a playful smile.
Stark gives him a strangely calculating look and matches the smile. “I’ll allow that. Anyway. We’ve got majority, so it’s decided. Let’s go!” he turns around and heads back toward the Sanctum with Wong and Stephen close behind.
“And who made you the Sorcerer Supreme to give out orders?” the Ancient One asks with a tiny grin of her own, falling in step with them. Even Mordo joins them after a moment of hesitation.
“I’m Stark Supreme – plus I saved your bald ass today and this guy saved all our asses. You wanna argue with the Cthulhu slayer?”
“I didn’t slay Dormammu,” Stephen admits.
“Shh! Details, young Padawan. Besides, Cthulhu slayer sounds better than Cthulhu negotiator.”
“Indeed. Stark Supreme also sounds better than Secondary Supreme.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“See? We can play nice,” Stark winks at the Ancient One.
“Vishanti help us,” her, Mordo and Wong all say at the same time.
“Kamar-Taj in fifteen minutes,” Stark commands after giving the three sorcerers a proper glare. “Remember that who comes first will get dibs on the pepperoni pizza.”
“Wait a minute, you said nothing about that!” Wong goes into overdrive and nearly drags the Ancient One inside the Sanctum to begin the restoration.
Mordo portals away with a court nod and Stark also wastes no time and creates a portal back to New York as well. He moves to walk through it but the Cloak apparently has different ideas.
“Wh…?!” he stops and glares down where the fabric is holding his forearm. “Unhand me, carpet!” he exclaims so dramatically Stephen bursts out laughing. “Hahaha, very funny. Tell your asshole cape to let me go!”
“Hm. Maybe if you stop calling it names, it will let you go on its own.”
“Oh please! I’ve known this thing for years! If anything, it revels in being called all kinds of names – mostly because people don’t usually acknowledge it, let alone talk to it. You’ll see…it’s one tricky outerwear.”
The Cloak lets Stark go and if Stephen didn’t know any better, he’d think the way it folds away, slightly behind his frame is almost…bashful.
“See? It’s a gigantic, textilian weirdo,” Stark smirks at it.
The Cloak reaches out to poke the sorcerer in jest and then returns to its idle state around Stephen’s shoulders. “I’ll go return this then,” Stephen taps at the Eye of Agamotto. If Mordo was right about anything, it’s that the Eye is too much of a responsibility to just keep, let alone wield. Not to mention he could really use a moment alone to collect himself.
Sure, they won and both Dormammu and Kaecilius are gone. Now that the adrenalin is leaving his body, the exhaustion and horror he’s endured is slowly creeping up on him.
“Gin,” he blurts out after Stark’s retreating form. “I prefer gin,” he adds when he receives a frown in return.
“A-ha! I had a feeling,” he grins. “See you in Kamar-Taj, Doctor Strange,” he waves the portal away and it collapses into a tiny boom of sparks.
Stephen portals to Kamar-Taj and wonders if Stark using his actual name and title was a good thing – or bad. Knowing Stark, as little as he does, it’ll be a bit of both since he can’t imagine the man to be all black and white. He’s too complex, too chaotic to settle for just good or just bad.
That alone intrigues his mangled brain for long enough to push away the horrific events from the Dark Dimension and instead ponder the future, which for the first time in months has some vivid colors in it.
Just as the Ancient One told him – in order to move on, he first had to figure out who he is and who he wants to be and then battle all his demons to achieve that future.
He didn’t expect to battle an actual demon but he’s not at all surprised that things aren’t always as metaphorical as the Ancient One makes them sound.
Fifteen minutes later, Stark portals into Kamar-Taj with enough alcohol to get the whole continent drunk and enough pizza to make Wong smile…and Stephen decides he’s ready to face the future as a Master of the Mystic Arts, no matter what it may throw in his way.