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Wong is waiting for Stephen when he returns from his dimensional trip. His expression… Stephen has never seen him look like that. Never. “What happened?”
“The Avengers were called in for a threat,” Wong says, holding out a tablet. Stephen goes cold as he takes it. The banner across the bottom of the muted news report reads Nuclear Blast in Wyoming . “They captured him, but the device couldn’t be disarmed. Stark carried it to an isolated area.”
Despite the tightness of his grip, the tablet is shaking so hard in Stephen’s hands that he’s amazed he hasn’t dropped it. “Is he dead?”
“Not yet. He escaped the center of the blast, but was still caught in the larger radius.” Wong pauses. “He has communications, but the suit is disabled and the radiation—”
The news report switches to a map. “I’ll portal to a remote location first,” Stephen says. “So as not to contaminate the Sanctum.”
“Stephen—”
He doesn’t listen, just steps through a portal to a desert, casts a protective ward, and then portals to the location given by the news. He sees the scorched, ashy crater of ground zero first. He escaped the center of the blast, Stephen reminds himself. He casts a spell and follows it to Tony.
The suit lies in a smaller crater at the end of a long, smouldering furrow in a field. Stephen lands next to him, his heart in his throat. The armor looks slagged. God, what had that done to Tony, inside? “Tony,” he calls out, dropping to his knees.
“Stephen?” Tony’s voice cracks. “You can’t be here, the radiation levels—”
“I’m warded,” Stephen breaks in. He reaches out, then lets his hands drop without touching the suit. At this point… opening it would likely only make things worse. “Tony, you’re—”
“I’m dying,” Tony says gently.
Tears spill over Stephen’s cheeks. He rests one hand lightly on the suit’s chest. It’s not hot, despite the appearance. “You can’t,” he chokes out.
Tony chuckles. There’s an awful wet sound to it. “Hey, how many times have I told you there’s nothing I can’t do?”
“ You can’t ,” Stephen repeats, desperate. “This is the good future. I watched you die fourteen million times , I wasn’t supposed to have to do it again!”
“Stephen…” Tony tries to lift a hand, but it falls back to the ground, “...this is the life I signed up for.”
“No!” Stephen snaps. “Not this time !” He places his other hand on the suit. “This time, you live .” Stephen closes his eyes and reaches inside, to the place in his soul where every sorcerer learns to open a channel to dimensional energy. Most sorcerers manage the flow carefully, lest the energy involved burn them out. Literally.
The magnitude of power a sorcerer is capable of channeling is made stronger by—among other things—age and experience. Stephen’s natural talent for magic had made his power level impressive for a body that has been handling it for less than a decade. But that was before Titan. His body may be new to the power, but his soul…
His soul has been handling it for millions of years.
The internal barrier that restrains Stephen’s capacity for dimensional energy is more like a dam holding back a river than a valve on a pipe. There’s a churning mass of latent power there that’s always looking for a way through. Stephen always, always has to be mindful of it.
Now he throws the channel wide open.
The power roars through Stephen. This isn’t a trickle of energy, or even a river. This is a tidal wave, a force that no one can hope to direct. It floods Stephen and makes manifest every thought and dream and hope and prayer and wish and need he has… but in this moment, there is only one thing in the world that Stephen wants.
Live .
The power pours from Stephen into Tony and then overflows, spreading away from them like the ripple of water from a pebble dropped into a pond. Stephen pays it no mind, all of his attention still on the battered armor under his hands.
*
The surge of power is so strong that Tony actually feels it. It’s almost a kind of pressure, pouring into his chest and filling him up to the skin before spilling out again. It should be a suffocating feeling—God knows pressure in Tony’s chest has never been a good thing—but instead of crushing the rest of him, it feels like it's buoying him up. When it spills over and then subsides, Tony is left feeling… good.
And not just because the nausea and the dizziness and the ache of his radiation-scorched skin have all vanished like they never were. His lungs expand easily, as if they’d never spent years crowded up against the arc reactor. The ache in his much-abused sternum is gone. The aches in his hands and knees—artifacts of long work days and hard landings—are gone. He swears his heartbeat is stronger.
“Your vital signs have stabilized, boss,” FRIDAY reports, a lilt to returning to her voice. Then confusion edges in. “They seem to be improved from your previous baseline.”
Tony knows he shouldn’t remove his faceplate, but he’s got the distinct feeling that the radiation won’t be a problem anymore, so he reaches up and pries it off anyway. Above him, Stephen looks a little winded, but otherwise fine. Tony turns his head. It’s difficult, the armor is grinding against the damage it took, but he manages it.
The field around them had been half grown before it was flattened by the shockwave from the blast and, in the immediate vicinity, scorched to the earth by his crash landing. Now full grown wheat surrounds them as far as the eye can see. Wildflowers crowd in around the stalks.
Tony turns back to Stephen. “Stephen. What did you do? ”
This couldn’t be the work of the Time Stone. Tony’s suit is still a mess, and the furrow through the ground from his crash remains, although it’s covered in wheat and flowers now. More than that, Tony can’t imagine that there was ever a point in this field’s history when this many wildflowers bloomed vigorously among the intended crop.
“I healed you,” Stephen says, as if it’s that simple.
They’ve talked about healing spells. Tony had asked, because it seemed like there was nothing Stephen’s magic couldn’t do, and yet he still suffered from nerve damage. It had been a late night conversation, the type of thing that was easier to talk about at three in the morning. “We can accelerate natural healing, but that wouldn’t help me. I could stabilize them by channeling magic into them,” Stephen had said, “but I can’t restore them. The amount of energy required for true healing is immense. Most sorcerers would burn out their magical ability trying to channel enough dimensional energy to heal even a simple fracture.”
Tony waves at the field around them. “Not just me.”
“There was some… overflow,” Stephen admits.
Tony has to laugh. Some overflow. Talk about an understatement.
A portal spins open next to them before either can speak again. Wong stands on the other side. “Both of you need to come to the Sanctum right now, ” Wong says, standing back from the portal and waving them through.
“Wong,” Tony says as Stephen stands and helps him up. The armor isn’t totally disabled, but taking it off is going to be a job and a half. “A nuclear device went off at the end of an Avengers mission. If I’m not dead I should—”
“You should get yourself away from possible scrutiny while the Elders and I figure out what to say about what just happened here,” Wong says sharply. “They sensed the power expenditure in Hong Kong . Worse, Stephen has healed someone believed untreatable.”
Tony’s eyebrows go up. “How is that worse?”
Stephen winces. “There are a lot of untreatable people in the world,” he says regretfully. “And only one of me. Even if channeling that much power didn’t have consequences, can you imagine how people would react knowing it was possible, and yet vanishingly limited?”
Stephen would never get a moment of peace, Tony realized. Hell, none of the sorcerers would, because there would always be people who didn’t understand or didn’t believe that no one else could do it. Even more than that, an ability that sought after and yet that restricted was the kind of thing people wanted to control, and bargain with, and use . “Point taken,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
*
Tony doesn’t hear from Stephen for two weeks.
The official story from the Masters of the Mystic Arts is that Stephen had, without authorization, taken an ancient and irreplaceable artifact from Kamar-Taj and destroyed it in order to acquire the immense amount of power required to heal Tony, at great risk to both himself and the surrounding area. Stephen could, they said, just as easily have destroyed the surrounding area, if there had been anything to destroy. He is being disciplined.
The story does the job, in that it explains what happened, accounts for both why Stephen was present in case anyone had detected his arrival and why Wong retrieved him so quickly afterward, and discourages anyone from thinking it repeatable. Tony assumes, at first, that Stephen’s silence is only to support the discipline story.
But as the days pass, Tony can’t help but grow increasingly worried that they really have punished him. Perhaps severely.
Don’t the wizards have some rule about the natural order of things? Tony should have died in that Wyoming field. Stephen interfered with that. And not to save the world, but just to save Tony .
Tony doesn’t even know how to process that.
Ultimately, he can’t handle not knowing anymore. So he calls Stephen. Who picks up the video call on the first ring, like nothing had ever happened.
Well, maybe not quite nothing , give the relief that crosses his expression. “Tony. Is everything okay?”
“You tell me. I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” Now that he’s seen Stephen is fine, Tony can’t help but wonder if didn’t want—
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to,” Stephen says, dropping his gaze.
Huh . “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
Stephen looks up again. His expression is schooled. “Just being aware of that volume of power can be unsettling, nevermind being present when it is wielded. Nevermind being the focus of it.”
“I’m not unsettled,” Tony insists. He’s something , but unsettled isn’t it. “I didn’t want to get in the middle of your wizard shit and risk making things worse for you. I figured you’d call me when everything was back to normal.”
The sharp lines of Stephen’s face relax a little. “Everything is back to normal.” He makes a face. “Mostly.”
“Great!” Tony says brightly. “Lunch?”
“And there’s the ‘mostly’,” Stephen sighs. “The Elders are asking me to be discreet for a while.”
Tony doesn’t intend to take no for an answer. “So I’ll order take out and you can portal straight here.” Stephen hesitates. “Look,” Tony says, “I can come to the Sanctum if you’re on house arrest, but I suspect you could use a change of scenery.”
“I really could,” Stephen admits. “All right. Give me a moment to let the Elders know where I’m going.”
“If I don’t hear from you in an hour I’m coming after you,” Tony warns.
Stephen laughs and ends the call. It’s just as well, because Tony was dead serious: if they won’t even let Stephen visit a friend for lunch, then something is wrong and he clearly needs back up.
Fortunately, it doesn’t come to that. Thirty-two minutes later, a portal spins open in Tony’s living room and Stephen steps through. He’s not wearing his sorcerer robes, just a pair of worn-in, dark jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan. And the Cloak of Levitation, which is hilariously out of place with the outfit but seems to be holding Stephen’s shoulders a little closer than usual.
Tony can’t help examining him carefully, looking for… He’s not sure what. Signs that the wizards were treating him poorly? The crackle of all that power churning just under the surface? Either way, Tony doesn’t spot anything. Stephen is still Stephen.
“Do I pass muster?” Stephen asks dryly. The Cloak bristles a little.
“Relax, Levi,” Tony says, “I wasn’t judging anything. Mostly double checking to make sure your person there is okay .” He raises his eyebrows at Stephen. “ Are you okay? You didn’t actually say, on the phone.”
“Tony…” Stephen hesitates, then admits, “The Elders aren’t actually capable of either restraining me or disciplining me if I don’t cooperate.”
“Not even working together? All of them?” Tony asks. Silently, Stephen shakes his head.
Their victory on Titan suddenly makes a lot more sense. Certainly, Tony and Stephen and Peter and the Guardians had all worked together, and the victory had needed all of them, but despite that… Tony had always wrestled with the sinking feeling that it had been too easy . Stephen silently tipping the scales explains that.
But Tony suspects that Stephen hasn’t touched that power since Titan. He could be wrong—the wizards are usually pretty good about keeping their battles out of sight—but he doesn’t think so. ‘Power corrupts’ is a cliche for a reason. Using it has more risks than collateral damage.
And Stephen had taken that risk to save Tony.
The thought sends a rush of warmth through Tony. More power than Tony could really conceive of, and Stephen had used it to save him . Is it wrong to enjoy that thought? To bask in it a little bit?
“Should I leave?” Stephen asks quietly.
Tony blinks. Damn it, he’d been thinking too long. “No! Stay.” He takes Stephen by the upper arm and pulls him over to the couch, sitting down next to him. Their knees bump together, which is closer than they usually sit, but Tony doesn’t move away and neither does Stephen. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’m not actually hungry,” Stephen says. The Cloak has been hanging onto him closely, but at this it pokes him in the cheek with one of the collar points.
“Right,” Tony snorts. “When did you last eat?”
“This morning!”
Tony raises his eyebrows. “More than tea?” When Stephen starts to speak, Tony interrupts him. “And toast?”
Stephen deflates. “I’m really not hungry, though.”
“I’m ordering food,” Tony announces. “Once you start eating, I bet you’ll be hungry.”
He orders from Stephen’s favorite crappy Chinese food place, a hole in the wall that he’d discovered during med school. While they’re waiting, Stephen visibly steels himself and says, “You must have questions.”
“A few.” Tony studies Stephen for a minute. “But if you’re not up to answering—”
“No,” Stephen cuts him off. “I want to get this over with.”
He still thinks Tony is going to shut him out. Well, the only way Tony can prove him wrong is by getting through all the parts Stephen thinks will be too much and still being here. “You didn’t always have this kind of power,” Tony says. “Or Thanos’s goons would never have gotten a hold of you. So. Titan?”
“Yes,” Stephen confirms. “Magical capacity deepens over time, and I—”
“—experienced fourteen million futures worth of time,” Tony finishes. Stephen looks a little surprised and nods. Hmm. “Did no one else figure that out?”
He shakes his head. “Although, to be fair, I only told them I used the Time Stone to view alternate futures. I didn’t mention how many.”
“Because you didn’t want them to know what kind of power you had,” Tony guesses.
“Power like this is dangerous,” Stephen says. “Magic is shaped and directed by the sorcerer’s will. Once you learn how to open that connection, you have to be careful what you wish for. Literally. For most, there are at least limits to what that power can do. For me…” Stephen spreads his hands.
Tony looks at him for a long moment. “Maybe that’s part of it,” he says, “but that’s not all of it.” Stephen looks away. Tony takes a guess. “The Elders are already talking about how they can use you, aren’t they?”
Stephen grimaces. “You understand power better than most.”
“You can talk to me, you know,” Tony says. “If you need to clear your head, or if you need someone to vent to, or if you want some advice on how to handle people who want to use you. Even people with the best intentions. I don’t want you to hold back with me.”
Stephen laughs, but it’s not a happy sound. “Tony, I have to hold back with you most of all. ”
A pang of disappointment shoots through Tony… but Stephen looks so pained, so lost. “Why?”
“The more I want from someone,” Stephen says, dropping his gaze to look at his hands, “the higher the risk all that power would just… make it happen.”
That should have terrified Tony. God knew he’d had bad experiences with magic getting inside his head. But with Stephen sitting next to him, visibly agonizing over the possibility, the fear just… doesn’t come. “Stephen,” Tony says. The sorcerer doesn’t move. “Hey, look at me for a second.” When Stephen drags his gaze up, Tony makes sure Stephen can see his utter certainty: “That would never happen.”
Stephen frowns. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because you don’t want it to,” Tony says, and he can’t help the tiny hint of amusement that seeps through. “You literally just told me that the magic acts on your will and your desires. Whatever you want from me, you don’t want magic to force it.”
Stephen opens his mouth to argue, then pauses, starts to speak again and finally blows out a breath. “And that’s enough for you to trust me throwing that kind of power around?”
“Trust you ? Yes. Anyone else?” Tony grimaced. “Probably not.”
Stephen offers Tony a tentative, slightly wry smile. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve that degree of trust.”
Tony’s not sure he can put it into words. Their time on the donut ship, the battle on Titan, the months since… Maybe it’s a thousand small things, all of them fitting into the same picture. All he knows is that the trust is there. In the end, Tony shrugs and says, “I’m not sure what I did to make using that power worth the risk.” Stephen’s smile grows more relaxed and Tony reaches out and lays his hand over Stephen’s. “I want to be the person you can let go with.”
“I want very badly to kiss you right now,” Stephen admits.
“Are you going to believe I want it of my own accord if I say go for it?” Tony teases. Stephen chuckles, so Tony leans in and captures his mouth, keeping the kiss light and soft. Despite that, by the time he pulls back the room is literally crackling with orange energy. Tony grins. “Literal fireworks. Now that’s good for my ego.”
Stephen shakes his head, smiling. “Your ego doesn’t need the help.”
“Sure doesn’t,” Tony agrees smugly, “because I got that reaction without any help at all.”
As planned, Stephen laughs. The power maybe flares a bit, and the Cloak eases its death grip on Stephen’s shoulders, and Tony feels a rush of warmth and excitement.
There’s going to be more fireworks ahead, he’s sure of it.
~End~