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In the aftermath of Cthon’s defeat, Stephen is beset by an unexpected sentiment: dissatisfaction.
Not with their victory, such as it is. For all that Stephen wishes they had not lost the Hunter, for all that he wishes they had divined Lilith’s true goals sooner, it was not a bad result. They had triumphed against an adversary who was very nearly omnipotent. To sustain only a single loss—perhaps two, if Lilith counted, in the end—in such a battle is no mean feat. Stephen has celebrated more bittersweet outcomes, and there remains the possibility that they will resurrect the Hunter yet again.
No, it’s not the aftermath of Cthon’s defeat that leaves Stephen discontented. To be honest, he’s not entirely sure what the problem is. All he knows is that, since leaving the Abbey and returning to New York, he’s been unsettled and snappish. It feels like there’s sand under his skin. Even with the loss of the Sanctum, Stephen really should have been relieved. Cthon’s shadow no longer hangs over him. He no longer has to be mindful of containing a demon and resisting its temptations every minute of every day. He has his privacy back.
For a while, Stephen convinces himself that the problem is the void left by the Sanctum’s destruction. He throws himself into the reconstruction project; Tony is invaluable here, assisting Stephen with paperwork and permits, connecting him with trustworthy contractors, and even assisting—temporarily!—with funding. Kamar-Taj has resources, but they’re not exactly liquid. Tony provides a cash loan to get things moving. His company throughout the process had also been… welcome.
Eighteen months later, standing in the foyer of the brand new Sanctum Sanctorum, Stephen has to admit that the construction project was a distraction, not a solution. It helped, certainly, but that sense of hollowness has not dissipated, only retreated for a time. Pacing through the halls of the silent Sanctum, Stephen only feels more lost.
In the end, he turns to magic for the solution.
Not to adjust his own emotional landscape, of course. Stephen knows better than that: mental magics are exceptionally dangerous even when performed on someone else, with assistance and all possible precautions. Adjusting himself would be a recipe for disaster. No, the spell he selects is designed to show him the path to resolving his problem. Stephen is certain that if he can just determine where to begin, the rest will follow.
He sets up in one of the working rooms, the door closed to engage the full set of protections. The spell is a ritual one, and the precision and technical details of setting up the ritual space are calming. By the time Stephen folds himself into a meditation position in the center of the ritual circle he can feel the magic humming around him, alive and responsive and primed for his will.
The words and gestures that activate the spell flow smoothly from Stephen. He feels the structure of the casting coalesce around him, complex and brilliant and beautiful. Sometimes, magic still takes his breath away.
The sight of the working room fades into the grey mist of that place between dimensions, interstitial to reality but not actually apart from it. Stephen stands, less because it changes anything—time and space have little meaning here—and more because he feels more prepared to face whatever is next if he’s standing.
The other figure doesn’t appear out of the mist. They don’t approach, or fade in. They’re simply there, as if they’d always been there. Stephen isn’t even surprised to see them. Of course they’re there. That’s how this works.
The other figure is him.
Not literally, Stephen quickly realizes. This isn’t his self from the past, or the future. This alternate Stephen Strange is perhaps ten years younger, yes, but while the robes he’s wearing are similar in style, they’re still nothing Stephen has ever donned. More telling is that he wears the Eye of Agamotto around his neck, and within it… the Time Stone.
Stephen’s own Eye of Agamotto has never housed an infinity stone. Its power has another source.
Alternate Stephen regards him warily. “You’re not from the future,” he says, with certainty.
Stephen has yet to regain his own ability to see the future—the Sanctum is still regaining its power—but he supposes that a version of himself who wears the Time Stone as an accessory would know. “No,” he says aloud. “I expect that we inhabit disparate realities within the multiverse. A curious result of the Ritual of Elyndor. It isn’t structurally multiversal, although there is an element to the mystical geometry—” Stephen breaks off, seeing Alternate Stephen’s wariness deepen rather than ameliorate. Curious. “I hope you weren’t drawn here… forcibly,” Stephen says. Disturbing to think that his search for enlightenment might have kidnapping as its solution.
“No,” Alternate Stephen says, fortunately. “I also conducted the Ritual of Elyndor.”
Stephen brightens. “Ah! Then we must be the solution to each other’s problem. Although, I confess, I’m uncertain how an alternate version of myself could assist with a difficulty I have been unable to fully articulate.”
“Perhaps telling me about it will help,” Alternate Stephen suggests, rather than revealing anything about his own quandary.
He’s a cautious one, but Stephen has no objection to extending the first offering of trust; the Ritual of Elyndor is quite safe. “Approximately twenty months ago, our world was threatened by a being known as Cthon. In order to defeat him, some of the Avengers, including myself, joined forces with a mystical order known as the Midnight Suns. For two months, we lived together in a pocket dimension as we strove for Cthon’s defeat. This goal was accomplished eighteen months ago. Ever since then I’ve felt…” Stephen trails off and spreads his hands inarticulately. “Unsettled. Unfulfilled. Incomplete. I don’t understand why. We experienced losses, yes, defeats, several, but no more than any other altercation, and much of that has been restored, regardless.”
Alternate Stephen strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What does Tony think?”
Stephen blinks. “Tony?”
“He’s much better with emotional problems than I am,” Alternate Stephen says, and smiles wryly, “Well, my emotional problems, anyway. His own are another matter.” Then he pauses and frowns. “You do have a Tony Stark, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Stephen says automatically. Certainly there must be realities in existence in which Tony Stark does not exist, but the idea feels alien even to contemplate. “He’s a brilliant engineer and a good friend, but if I can’t articulate the problem I’m not sure how he would be able to.”
Alternate Stephen’s brow wrinkles. “A good friend, you said,” he says slowly. “Is Tony not your partner, then?”
Stephen’s eyebrows fly upwards even as his heart leaps. “Is he yours?”
Alternate Stephen smiles, and the expression is transformative. A certain softness enters his eyes, the wary tension going out of him. “Somehow, yes. Just over a year now, and it still feels like a miracle.”
“Remarkable,” Stephen murmurs. He thinks of his own Tony, vibrant and sharp and brilliant even when thrown into a conflict antithetical to his worldview, science taking a backseat to the mystical. “How did he overcome his fear of magic?”
“‘Fear’ might be exaggerating the case,” Alternate Stephen says, and a rush of disappointment washes through Stephen. “I take it your Tony has more trouble with it.”
“Fear might be understating the case when it comes to Tony,” Stephen says wryly. “He is extraordinarily vocal about it. If I recall correctly, he’s used the word ‘terror’ more than once. I had hoped…” Stephen sighs, and his alternate self waits. “We worked together quite closely for the duration of our conflict with Cthon. He even asked the Hunter to teach him about magic. I had hoped he would become more comfortable with the mystic arts. But I’ve seen no indication that is the case.”
Alternate Stephen hums thoughtfully. “Are you sure? It sounds like you’ve seen him since the crisis passed. Tony is an expert at avoidance. If he was truly uncomfortable, he’d be very plausibly much too busy to see you.”
“We’ve actually seen quite a lot of each other. He’s been invaluable in reestablishing the Sanctum Sanctorum.” Stephen shakes his head. “But I think we’re wandering rather off the topic. If I needed to speak to Tony to identify my difficulty, the Ritual of Elyndor would have brought him here, not an alternate version of myself.”
“Not if Tony is the problem,” Alternate Stephen argues. Stephen opens his mouth to protest, but Alternate Stephen barrels onwards. “More specifically, your feelings for Tony are the problem.”
“This has nothing to do with Tony!” Stephen insists. “Did I not just tell you we’ve worked closely together? That we maintain a friendship? I don’t see—”
“And that’s the problem,” Alternate Stephen says impatiently. “If I’m understanding recent events correctly, you lived with Tony for months during a crisis and when the crisis passed and you went back to your normal life you felt ‘incomplete.’ Obviously you fell in love and now you miss him.”
Stephen opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. “I’ve hardly gone three days without seeing him for the last year and a half. How could I miss him?”
Alternate Stephen gives him a look so derisive and impatient that Stephen almost feels embarrassed. “Seeing him is not the same as living with him. Can you honestly say that you don’t wish you could still see him every day? Every morning, soft and vulnerable before he puts on his metaphorical armor for the day? Every evening, when he finally lets himself think about something other than work? That you don’t plan how you’ll tell him about it every time something interesting happens?”
An ache lances through Stephen’s chest. He does wish for that. All of it. “Then my problem is intractable,” he says heavily. “I hardly think the feeling is mutual.”
Alternate Stephen closes his eyes and rubs his temples. “Have you forgotten that I am in a relationship with Tony? Did you miss the not at all subtle point I was making about how Tony probably isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you assume if he isn’t avoiding you? Are you going to make me repeat myself again?”
Stephen bristles. “Your condescension is unwarranted. Your relationship doesn’t mean you understand my Tony better than I do.”
“I’ve actually established a relationship, while you have yet to name ‘the feeling’ at all,” Alternate Stephen shoots back.
“And you conducted the Ritual of Elyndor because everything is entirely satisfactory?” Stephen asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Tony is the only part that is working,” Alternate Stephen snaps. “It’s everything else that’s the problem.”
Stephen opens his mouth and… nothing comes out. Everything else? For once, he is at a loss for words. Alternate Stephen folds his arms and glares until Stephen manages to pull himself together. “Everything else?” he says, and the bewilderment is patent in his voice. “Has something happened to the Sanctum? To magic? To Earth?”
“No, no, and almost, but no,” Alternate Stephen says, and unfolds his arms with a sigh. “I’ve been a sorcerer for three years.”
“And that is… Not a long time?” Stephen ventures uncertainly. He himself was already Sorcerer Supreme by the time he was three years into his pursuit of magic. At the same time, three years studying medicine was nothing. Experience was relative, and his alternate self behaved as though—
“It’s an eternity,” Alternate Stephen says. He touches the Eye of Agamotto. “And despite that, if you asked me if I was happy with my life, I would have to say no. If I can’t make peace with my life as it is now after 14 million attempts, what hope do I have?”
Stephen relaxes, though he tries not to be too obvious about it. “If I understand correctly, you made use of the Time Stone to view, perhaps even experience, alternate futures such that you would be able to navigate your own timeline to safety?” Alternate Stephen nods. “And you believe you should have benefitted from the experience of those futures?”
“I did benefit,” Alternate Stephen argues. “Or we couldn’t have defeated Thanos on Titan.”
“You benefitted intellectually,” Stephen corrects him. “You brought knowledge out of those futures, but that’s all. For all that I don’t have access to the Time Stone, I nevertheless have considerable experience managing my past and future selves. Your soul now is not your soul in the future, no matter how it travels.”
Alternate Stephen scowls. “That makes no sense. The experience—”
“Magical space time is not so linear that one’s soul accrues experience like sand pouring into an hourglass,” Stephen interrupts. “I could explain the math, but you lack the mystical knowledge to understand it.”
Alternate Stephen rolls his eyes. “Tell your Tony about the magical math,” he advises. “And you’re wrong. I fell in love with Tony during those lifetimes. That’s more than knowledge.”
Stephen raises an eyebrow. “Did you? Or did you just learn that you could fall in love with him?”
“I did,” Alternate Stephen insists. “He was there when I… returned. It was an emotional moment.”
“I imagine so,” Stephen says. “Fear, excitement, hope, interest, all likely in near-overwhelming intensity. But was what you felt for Tony then the same as what you feel for him now?”
Alternate Stephen starts to reply, then stops. His expression grows thoughtful. “No. But love can deepen and change over time. That doesn’t make what I felt then not love.”
Stephen smiles faintly. “I suppose that depends on how you define love. Regardless, you see the point I am making? Having 14 million futures worth of knowledge doesn’t mean that your soul has 14 million futures worth of development.” Fortunately so. Stephen suspects that would break most humans.
“I guess that’s a good thing,” Alternate Stephen says, his tone rather tired. “Since it means I can still hope to come to terms with what I’ve lost.”
Stephen hums. “Perhaps focus less on what you’ve lost and more on what you’ve gained,” he suggests. Alternate Stephen shoots him an inquiring look. “Magic is more than a means to an end,” Stephen says. “It is a living, breathing thing, an expression of space, time, and reality more complex than any one living body. It has rules so intricate that after ten thousand years of study there are still those who think it functions on faith.” Stephen feels the cadence of his speech pick up and he finds himself gesturing. “Magic is beautiful. The way it responds to a properly directed will, the way it transforms the world, there’s nothing else like it in any dimension or reality. You have so much to discover, so much to learn, such wonders ahead of you… and I’m not even jealous of you for having them ahead of you, because even after decades of study, I’m still making discoveries and witnessing wonders, too.”
“And you don’t miss surgery?” Alternate Stephen asks, brow furrowed. “Medicine?”
“No,” Stephen says simply. “I don’t. Think of it this way: medicine was my first love, but magic is my true love. Given the choice between the two, I’ll always choose magic.”
Alternate Stephen looks down at his hands, tracing the scars lightly. “I became a sorcerer because I had to, not because I chose to.”
“As did I.” Stephen displays his own hands. “The love came later. It can come to you as well, if you let it.”
“How do you know I haven’t tried?” Alternate Stephen asks.
Because if he had, he wouldn’t be here. But Stephen knows that won’t be a helpful argument. “You said yourself that you have yet to come to terms with what you’ve lost,” he says instead. “How can you accept a new calling when you haven’t even mourned the old one?”
Alternate Stephen starts to protest and then stops himself. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I think I’ve just proved you right.”
“If it helps,” Stephen says, “once I stopped resenting it for being different from my old life, I was able to enjoy serving in an auxiliary medical capacity for my fellow heroes.” He smiles. “Though it has more in common with emergency medicine than neurosurgery.”
Alternate Stephen snorts a laugh. “If Christine could hear you now,” he says, and shakes his head.
Christine. Palmer, Stephen assumes. When was the last time they spoke? He finds he can’t remember. “Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,” he comments.
“I take it that relationship didn’t go anywhere for you, either?” Alternate Stephen asks.
“No,” Stephen confirms. “Our lives moved in substantially different directions after I found magic. I haven’t actually spoken to her in years.”
“No other romances?”
Stephen levels a look at Alternate Stephen. “Your intent is quite evident.”
“Look, I wouldn’t be pushing if I believed that you aren’t interested in Tony,” Alternate Stephen says impatiently, “but you avoided making any statements about your feelings at all. You say that I haven’t given myself a chance to fall in love with magic? Well, you haven’t given yourself a chance to have a relationship with Tony. Maybe that’s why the Ritual of Elyndor brought us together: to show us that the thing that we’re missing from our lives is possible. That being Stephen Strange doesn’t put it out of reach by nature.”
Stephen’s first instinct is to argue, but… he can’t seem to articulate a rationale. He purses his lips. “You… may have a point.”
No sooner has Stephen uttered the words than the power of the Ritual begins fading, which is as good as a confirmation that Alternate Stephen is correct. How irritating. And yet… Also promising. Surely the Ritual wouldn’t send him to have his heart broken.
“It seems our time together is at an end,” Stephen says.
Alternate Stephen nods. “So it does.” In the moments before the gray mist obscures him, he catches Stephen’s gaze. “It’s worth it.”
And then Stephen is opening his eyes to his working room. The magic that had infused the ritual circle and objects is spent now, nothing but chalk and candles and a few other trinkets. He puts them away and cleanses the room, but as he dismisses the rags he used to scrub the chalk away to the laundry, Stephen has to admit that he’s procrastinating.
He needs to speak to Tony.
And yet the thought makes his gut tighten and his heart race. Not in excitement, in anxiety. Before Cthon, Stephen would at least have his knowledge of the future to guide him. It would give him time to prepare. As exhilarating as being surprised can be, there are drawbacks as well.
Stephen… Procrastinates. And then castigates himself for procrastinating, and then still doesn't call Tony. The cycle is only interrupted because he already has lunch with Tony on his calendar for two days after the Ritual, and for all his anxiety he never considers cancelling. It’s Tony’s turn to host, which means that Stephen arrives in the penthouse via portal with Thai takeout.
They’re still in the midst of serving themselves when Tony narrows his gaze at Stephen and says, “What’s wrong?”
Stephen huffs, dropping his gaze on the chicken satay he’s extracting from its skewers. “One could wish you were not so exceedingly discerning.”
“Tough. I am. Cough it up.”
“I’ve been struggling with a persistent sense of… dissatisfaction,” Stephen says slowly. Satay prepared for easy impalement with a fork, he turns his attention to the stir fried vegetables.
“I noticed.”
Stephen looks up, serving utensils dangling from his fingers. “You did?”
“You went through a lot of chocolate cake over the past year,” Tony says dryly. His own plate is full, but he leans against the counter, waiting for Stephen instead of taking it to the living room where they usually eat.
“Chocolate cake?” Stephen finds himself bemused.
Tony shrugs. “It’s your comfort food. You always get some when you feel out of sorts.”
“I… hadn’t realized,” Stephen admits. Warmth spreads through him. He hadn’t realized, but Tony had.
“So have things come to a head?” Tony’s brow wrinkles. “You know I’ll help in any way I can.”
The warmth deepens. “I do know. But no, things are no worse than they have been. On the contrary, I may have made a breakthrough of sorts.”
“Of sorts?” Tony raises his eyebrows. “You’re not sure?”
Stephen delays by finishing with his plate and carrying it through to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table before seating himself on the couch. Tony follows with his own food, his expression expectant. “I conducted the Ritual of Elyndor—”
Tony looks pained. “You didn’t mess with your emotions, did you?”
“Of course not!” Stephen says, sniffing. “The Ritual is to provide information, not adjustments. I merely desired a perspicuous quandary to address.”
Tony rolls his eyes. “Right. And you got one of those?”
Stephen falters, fussing with his cutlery for a moment. “Well. The Ritual put me in contact with an alternate universe version of myself. He seemed… quite convinced he’d accurately identified the issue.”
“Which is?” Tony prods. He half turns to face Stephen one arm laid across the back of the couch, the fingers very nearly brushing Stephen’s shoulder. Stephen resists the urge to lick his lips. Nervously, of course.
“He seemed quite convinced that I’d fallen in love,” Stephen admits finally, “and that my dissatisfaction could be resolved by confessing my feelings and initiating a relationship.”
“But you disagree?” Tony’s normally expressive face is suddenly rather shuttered.
What little confidence Stephen has mustered falters, but he can hardly retreat from the conversation now; Tony certainly won’t let it go. “I’m less confident of reciprocation.”
“So you have fallen in love?” Tony demands, leaning closer. “With who?”
“Does it matter?” Stephen asks, a little desperately. “If it’s not mutual—”
“Bullshit,” Tony interrupts. “Of course it’s mutual. You’re brilliant, gorgeous, selfless, creative, kind— The only kind of person who wouldn’t love you is someone you wouldn’t fall in love with.”
Stephen stares, his mouth hanging open.
Tony flushes.
“Tony—”
“Look, nevermind that,” Tony says quickly. “Whoever is it, I’m sure I can—”
Stephen has to raise voice to speak over Tony. “It’s you.”
Tony breaks off. “Wait, really?”
It’s Stephen’s turn to blush. “Yes.”
The pure, unfiltered delight that suffuses Tony’s expression is worth any embarrassment Stephen might feel. “Why the hell would you think it wasn’t mutual?” Tony asks, a note of exasperation in his voice. “I’ve been trying to seduce you for nearly two years! We have standing dates!” He gestures to the food on the coffee table, cooling as it waits for them.
“You hate magic!” Stephen protests. “It wasn’t unreasonable to infer that it would prove an impediment to a more intimate relationship.”
“Magic scared me because I didn’t understand it,” Tony says. He slides closer, his knees bumping up against Stephen’s “Are you hearing the past tense here, Stephen?”
Stephen might love him, but honestly, Tony could be insufferable sometimes. “How is it you reciprocate my feelings and we’re still arguing?”
Tony snorts. “Face it, we’re always going to argue.”
“Always?” Stephen asks archly.
“Always,” Tony says, bracing himself on the back of the couch and leaning in. “But… maybe not exclusively.” He closes the last of the distance, and Stephen tilts his head to meet him, and then they’re kissing, soft and slow and so, so sweet. After a moment Stephen lifts a hand, resting his fingertips against Tony’s jaw as the kiss shifts but doesn’t end.
They do part eventually, and the softness in Tony’s gaze is a sight that will live in Stephen’s heart for the rest of his life. “You haven’t actually said it,” Stephen says. He drops his hand from Tony’s chin, resting it high on his thigh instead.
Tony smiles. “Neither have you.”
Despite everything, Stephen still feels a shiver of nerves. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Tony returns easily.
Maybe, Stephen admits privately, his counterpart had a point about getting out of his own way.