Chapter Text
Stephen sat himself in his chair by the Window of the Worlds and checked the time.
It was easier these days with his new Stark Phone, but he often caught himself checking his broken Jaeger though it had been ages since it worked. He’d been tempted many times to take up Tony’s offer to fix it, but knew in his heart some things should remain broken.
It was one forty-five in the afternoon.
He tried to keep to a very strict schedule when he could. His life was so unpredictable these days, he enjoyed structure and order when he could have it.
At one forty-five in the afternoon his favorite tea sat on the windowsill and would take four minutes to brew. Approximately twenty-five minutes after that, Wong would walk by lightheartedly asking which library he’d stolen the book from.
Fifteen to twenty minutes after that, Stephen would feel the beginnings of his heart speeding up and his stomach churning. He’d twist and adjust himself in his chair and focus even more on the text he was reading, but it wouldn't do any good. It never did.
He cursed himself for his own ridiculousness over something he should have more control over.
A juvenile outburst over an unrequited crush was added to his schedule every Wednesday afternoon because every Wednesday afternoon around two Tony Stark got out of his weekly board meetings at Stark Industries and was at the Sanctum by two-thirty.
He claimed it was to foster good team dynamics in the event they’re ever called on to fight together, but Stephen thought he did it just to drive him up a wall. And if they had gotten closer since Stephen had first popped up on Tony’s radar—just after the incident with Dormammu—well that was just a natural consequence.
A part of him felt like he was far too old to have a crush. Too old and too…
He stole a glance at his watch again.
He might be far too old for a crush but though he wanted to deny it, that’s exactly what it was. A stupid crush, something fleeting that would end the first time Tony did something irritating. It wasn’t worth thinking about, especially when he should be studying.
Stephen banished his tea leaves to the kitchen compost, sipped his tea, and opened his book.
Ishtur's Soul Bonds was an interesting text, and he was only at the beginning. He’d borrowed the book from Kamar-Taj with a warning glance from the librarian on duty but dismissed it. No knowledge in Kamar-Taj was forbidden, only certain practices. And he never knew what he might need in a fight. Dormammu had taught him that much.
As he thumbed through the introduction by Ishtur’s apprentice, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Only a few people had his number, and he tried not to get his hopes up as he checked it.
UN investigation reveals ex-Soviet soldier as suspect in bombing
On second thought, Stephen thought with a sigh, perhaps he might have to amend his usual Wednesday schedule. He’d seen the photos of Tony in Berlin with the other Avengers, and knew something must have been going on that wasn’t in the press. He’d read about the Accords, had agreed with them, or at least the idea of them. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj might not be accountable to the United Nations, but they were strictly accountable to themselves.
He knew Tony thought the Accords were necessary and that the world agreed with him. And though he longed to help his friend, he knew that the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj had no place in the affairs of the Avengers.
A streak of red passed by him and looked over his shoulder.
“What?” he asked the Cloak as it peered at his phone. “You can read?”
The Cloak bopped him on the head and turned the phone so it could see it.
“My mistake,” Stephen muttered. “You like him, too?”
The Cloak tilted its collar by a fraction and Stephen caught what he’d said.
“I mean, of course I like him,” he sputtered. “He’s extremely charismatic, that’s why he’s a celebrity. Well…I suppose not only that. But that has to be part of it. You don’t see people dressed up as Hawkeye for Halloween.”
The Cloak floated silently by his side, unmoving.
“Oh, shut up,” Stephen said. Great, he was having an argument with his Cloak about his stupid, childish crush on someone who would never reciprocate his feelings. Lovely.
The Cloak scrolled down the article to where it talked about shots fired and how Tony hadn’t brought the Iron Man armor with him to Berlin.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” he told the Cloak, though his heart clenched in his chest. Tony was a force to be reckoned with even without the armor, but cleverness and guile wouldn’t protect him from a bullet. “He’s been fighting since long before us.”
The Cloak swished in a way that looked affronted.
“Well,” Stephen corrected himself, “me at least.”
The Cloak nodded its collar and settled on the back of his chair.
Stephen pushed aside his disappointment, mentally cleared his afternoon, and concentrated on soul bonds.
“What are you reading?”
He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he’d forgotten Wong’s daily meddling. His shaking hands dropped his tea cup, the tea threatening to spill all over the ancient text before it was caught in midair by a spell.
The glare Wong gave him was enough to put ice in his veins. “That text is a thousand years old,” Wong said, banishing Stephen’s tea without a second thought. “I will not see it destroyed because you are too busy daydreaming to read.”
“Wasn’t daydreaming,” Stephen muttered and returned to his book. “And I hadn’t finished my tea.”
“Stephen, why are you reading about soul bonds?” Wong asked, looking like he was tempted to snatch the book from Stephen’s hands.
“I’ve heard they can be used on the battlefield,” Stephen said. He ignored Wong and turned back to the book. “Temporary bonds can be used to augment powers, or so I’ve read in other texts. I want to read up in case they come in handy.”
Intent on ignoring Wong, Stephen attempted to go back to his chapter. He rolled his eyes and rested the book in his lap when he realized Wong was still staring at him. “What?” he asked, looking up and finally seeing the look on Wong’s face.
“Stephen…” Wong started, then shook his head and seemed to consider his words. That icy chill ran down his spine again at the sight of Wong tongue-tied. “Any spell that could alter the soul must be handled with utmost care. Even temporary bonding spells can have permanent effects.”
Stephen cocked an eyebrow. “How, if the spell itself is designed to be temporary?”
Wong shook his head. “The soul is a living, breathing thing. Any spell that would bind it to another’s has to be living as well. And something designed and created to be a connection to life itself can always change.”
Just as Stephen was about to ask what Wong could possibly mean, the wards silently rang out in a way only Stephen could hear. His heart jumped a little in his chest, but he stamped it down, both because it was foolish and because there was no way that was Tony.
He stood and looked through the Window of the Worlds down to the street below and saw Tony Stark pacing the pavement.
“He’s early,” Wong said, looking over Stephen’s shoulder. He seemed to consider Stephen for a moment, then said, “I know he is your friend—”
“Don’t,” Stephen said. His eyes never left Tony as he watched him agonize over whether to even knock on Stephen’s door. He shoved both hands inside his pockets—looking uncharacteristically uncertain—like he was trying to restrain himself from knocking, then turned around to walk away only to double back again.
Whatever had happened in Germany was bad, and Tony obviously thought it was going to get worse or he’d never come to Stephen for help.
Stephen didn’t need Wong telling him that he couldn’t help Tony. He knew that well enough. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj had hidden their order for millennia. There was no way Stephen could undo all of that.
Even for Tony.
But if there was a way he could help as a friend, rather than as a sorcerer, he would do all he could.
“Don’t worry so much, Wong,” Stephen said, letting his book rest on the chair and going to put Tony out of his misery. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
With just a slight hesitation in his step, Stephen opened the doors to the Sanctum to a still-pacing Tony Stark.
“Forming a picket line?” he shouted.
Tony turned towards him and asked, “What?”
Stephen schooled his face to stoic, but he couldn’t help staring as his eyes took in Tony’s perfectly scruffy hair, sunglasses that framed his face perfectly, and suit that was tailored to his body.
“Um…” He’d been making a joke, hadn’t he? “What are you protesting? You’ve been walking back and forth in front of my door long enough.”
“Coffee served in tea cups,” Tony said, finally coming inside. The wards of the Sanctum welcomed Tony like he was an old friend. “Pretty sure it’s a war crime. So how are things on this side of the world?”
“Nowhere near as chaotic compared to where you’ve been,” Stephen said, moving to the kitchen to offer Tony sustenance. He looked beautiful, but also as though he was about to collapse any moment. “How are you, Tony?”
Tony responded by staring out his kitchen window, which was currently a portal to the Hong Kong Sanctum, where vendors were selling their wares in the city streets.
He was silent for a few moments while Stephen brewed his coffee.
“You know I think you had the right idea, Doc,” Tony said, walking around Stephen’s kitchen. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “You had the absolute best idea. Stay in the shadows. Help people as much as you possibly can, but don’t let them know who you are. Genius-level idea.”
Stephen poured the coffee, a bit of it splashing on the kitchen counter. “Is it bad?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Tony said, leaning over the kitchen table, looking like that photo of Kennedy Stephen had seen in history textbooks when he’d been a kid. The picture had always stuck out in Stephen’s memory. It was a picture of a man—a good man—with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Tony looked very much like Jack Kennedy at that moment.
He waited for the machine to beep, then prepared Tony’s coffee the way he liked it.
“How bad?” Stephen asked, and pulled out a chair for Tony to sit down, Stephen sitting across from him.
For a long moment, Tony just stared at the seat like he had no idea what to do with it. Then he blinked and sat down, drank his coffee.
“What the hell is this?” Tony looked at it like it insulted his mother. “You drink this?”
“I mean, I don’t particularly enjoy it, but yes, sometimes,” Stephen said.
“Friday, get Stephen and Wong a case of the good stuff. Pretty sure this stuff could shine my suit—”
“Tony,” Stephen gently interrupted because it seemed like Tony wasn’t here to torment him today. This didn’t feel like a social call or an excuse to get Stephen out of the house. This felt very different. It felt like a line was being drawn. Like Stephen was about to be asked to pick a side in an extremely important war.
“Yeah,” Tony whispered and took another sip of his tea. “Yeah, okay, Doc. You’re right. I’m here because… Doc, I need help.”
Stephen took a deep breath and felt his heart drop to the floor. Yes, something very important was about to happen, and Stephen had a feeling he was about to give the wrong answer.
“What do you need?” he asked.
Tony wrapped his hands around his cup, his expression twisted in uncertainty. “Ross is giving me twenty-four hours to bring everyone in, get them to sign the Accords,” Tony said. “I don’t want any more fighting, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If we don’t bring them in… It’ll be bad. For everyone who doesn’t want to sign, and for the world.” He peeled off his sunglasses, and looked up at Stephen with sad, dark eyes.
“I’ve seen what those portals of yours can do,” he said. “You could take care of this in a minute. Everyone goes home, no one gets hurt.” His hands gripped his mug, like he was trying to keep himself from reaching out. “Please, Stephen. I know you wanted to stay out of this, but…”
It was like his heart was being torn in two. Stephen had never wanted to say yes to anything more in his life. He knew Tony was being sincere. He didn’t just want to win, he wanted to help his friends and teammates avoid a worse fate. And Stephen knew the skill sets of the Avengers. He knew he could easily and safely transport them to a safer place, somewhere tempers could cool and Tony could have a chance at a real peace.
But he wasn’t a surgeon who could call his own shots anymore.
He was a sorcerer. One of many who’ve protected Earth and the multiverse and could only do so from the shadows.
He couldn’t allow his own desires to help Tony overcome his need to protect the Sanctum. Millenia of secrecy couldn’t be undone because Stephen had a crush.
It’s not about you.
Though…
Looking into Tony’s eyes, he knew he didn’t want to help him simply because of a crush. He wanted to help because it was the right thing to do and hated that he couldn’t do it.
“Tony, I’m sorry,” he said, and Tony was already looking down into his cup.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Doc,” Tony said, finishing the rest of his cup with a grimace. “Figured it was a long shot, but I had to ask.”
He looked disappointed, but not surprised, like he’d expected Stephen to say no but still had some glimmer of hope otherwise. Somehow, that was worse.
Stephen shook his head, his trembling hands reaching out to Tony’s before he could stop himself. “Please, believe me, I would if I could. But the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj have existed in secret for centuries. I cannot be the one who brings our order to the attention of the world. If I were to bring in the Avengers…”
Softly, Tony lay his hand over Stephen’s and gave a very light squeeze. Stephen’s stupid, stupid heart almost burst from his chest.
“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice rough. “I know. Really. Maybe I’m an asshole for asking—”
“You’re not. If it was literally anything else, I would do it.” He paused, grasping at straws. “What about the Iron Legion?”
Tony shook his head. “Not the look I’m going for. I’m still working on their reconstruction, plus I want them to know we want to talk. Going with a dozen suits of armor would make it look like we’re there to fight. Which is why I thought—”
He waved a hand towards Stephen.
“But I need backup and the next guy on the list is…well…”
Stephen had no idea what to say, how he could possibly get Tony to understand that he wanted to help, but for once he had to think of something larger than himself.
“Seriously, Stephen,” Tony said, standing up and putting his suit jacket back on. “It’s fine. Come on, who would seriously win in a fight between me and Cap? That’s not even close.”
“Depends on the fight,” Stephen said, his trepidation growing.
“Ouch,” Tony said, a false smile on his face. “You wound me. Look, it’ll be fine. I gotta go hit up a spider in Queens. Burgers next Wednesday? Assuming I’m not being called to testify at the Hague?”
Stephen sighed and nodded his head. He wanted to say more, to try to convince Tony that he truly wanted to help, but to what end? There was nothing to be done, and they both knew it.
“See you later, Doc,” Tony said, walking out the door.
Just as the Sanctum was about to close the door, Stephen stuck his head out and shouted, “Tony!”
Tony turned around, the sun framing his hair in a way that made him glow, looking every inch Earth’s Greatest Defender. He was so struck by him, he almost forgot what he’d planned to say.
“Steve Rogers doesn’t stand a chance,” Stephen said, wanting Tony to know his true allegiance. “A fight between the two of you, I’d bet my lunch money on you every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
Tony looked over the rims of his sunglasses and smiled. “Well, I can’t have you going hungry. Next Wednesday. Burgers. Your pick.”
“I’ll see you then,” Stephen said, withdrawing back into the Sanctum and not allowing himself to succumb to the desire to watch Tony walk away.
Guilt at his own shortcomings ate at him, but the Cloak held him, gave him a full body hug he was surprised to find he needed.
“He’ll be fine,” he said to the Cloak. “He’s faced far worse than Steve Rogers. And they’re friends…of a sort.”
The Cloak nodded its collar but didn’t seem convinced.
“Well,” Stephen said. “It seems our afternoon is free now. Probably best to keep studying.”
He never knew when he’d been called upon to save the world…again.
*
Ishtur’s Soul Bonds was an extremely interesting book, and full of spells that could potentially be used on the battlefield. Wong had left Stephen to his own devices for the rest of that day and the next, so Stephen never did understand what could be dark about most of these spells.
Certainly there were spells he’d never even attempt to do. They went too deep, the connection between two souls too entwining and permanent. But there were several spells Stephen had already committed to memory that could be of tremendously good use.
One in particular could anchor the soul of someone whose body was damaged to another’s, and the strength of the healthy sorcerer could aid in keeping them alive. The only drawback seemed to be that it required an artifact of great power. But aside from that—admittedly large—hurdle why would this spell not be used in the battlefield more often?
He’d been bent over this book for hours, concentrating on learning as much as he could while also ignoring the pings from news alerts on his phone.
Avengers fight at German Airport leaves War Machine Wounded
Rogue Avengers on the Run After Clash at Airport
And the worst headline, the one that was plastered in all caps on the front page of the New York Times: AVENGERS CIVIL WAR!
He hadn’t heard from Tony in the past two days, but that was to be expected. He’d turned down his request for help. Why would Tony bother coming to him for anything now? The news about Tony’s friend, Colonel Rhodes, was particularly difficult to read. From what the reports were saying, it sounded like the injury was permanent.
Stephen flexed his fingers and tried not to feel regret.
He continued to ignore his phone and kept reading about battlefield soul bonds.
He was almost successful in not thinking about Tony for a full five minutes when a vibration in his pocket had him jumping out of his chair.
“Who calls these days?” Stephen asked himself while the Cloak swooped over from where it had been napping in the sun.
The caller ID simply said, ‘Friday.’
Stephen cast a quick look at the Cloak and accepted the call.
“Hello?” he said.
“Doctor Strange?” said a very familiar voice. “Doctor Strange, it’s Friday.”
Stephen only knew of one entity named Friday, and though it seemed odd to be called by an AI, he looked at the Cloak and realized he shouldn’t throw stones from within his glass house.
“Hello, Friday. Why are you—”
Fear slammed into him like he was walking into an ice storm, like all the heat had gone out of the room and he was left in the freezing cold. “Friday,” he asked softly, “why are you calling?”
“I can’t find boss!” Friday said, her tone more upset than he’d ever heard her. “He was fighting Captain America and the Winter Soldier in Siberia and then I lost him when Rogers put his shield in boss’s chest.”
That feeling of an icy chill ran down his spine until it burned him. He couldn’t have possibly heard Friday right.
“The Winter Soldier was there? Captain America did what?” he asked, though that shouldn’t have been his actual question. His real question should have been where’s Tony?
“He was hurt,” Friday said. “He was holding his own, but it was two against one. I tried to help him as much as I could,” she said, and if she was flesh and blood Stephen knew she’d be crying. “I was with him right until the end, right until Rogers broke the arc reactor. And now I can’t reach him!”
The end.
Stephen had heard enough. He pulled out his sling ring and let the Cloak drape itself over his shoulders.
“Show me his last known location.”
Friday pulled up the coordinates on the screen, and Stephen felt his heart drop even further.
Tony was in the middle of nowhere in Siberia. In a broken suit after a fight with two super soldiers.
Stephen put Friday in his pocket and called the Eye of Agamotto to him, the Cloak wrapping around his shoulders as he created a portal.
The bitter chill of Siberia whipped around him, but Stephen didn’t hesitate. He hadn’t been able to help Tony before, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t help him now.
He just hoped he wasn’t too late.