Their enemies turned into dust.
Closing his eyes was the first thing he did immediately after. He witnessed how those cursed, sacred six stoned did to Tony – and it wasn't beautiful. Had he expected the result, had he watched it over and over, yet it still stung his chest. A short but deep meditation, he took, and as soon as the war hero exhaled his final breath, the mighty sorcerer entered the ancestral plane. Tony's astral body – his soul – just left his mortal vessel. Stephen trailed his projection; an almost translucent, glimmering and weightless version of the futurist he once knew and floated by his side. On the thin air, both of them fell silent, wordlessly stared at the scene below their feet. There was his death – the end of his line.
It was a mere second in reality – according to earthy dimension, but for them, it felt like an eternity. Tony sensed things in a different yet familiar way. He felt nothing at all, yet he could perceive every emotion, every tear, and every sadness. He distinguished no pain but flinched at the sight of how bad his skin was burnt. Tony slowly turned his face to his right side. Finding Stephen Strange beside him,
"I wish they know that it won't be necessary," he suddenly whispered, "There's nothing to cry for."
Stephen hummed, "Human always feels emotional toward things they don't fully comprehend," he paused, eyes to Tony, then returned to his fatally damaged body, "They just don't know yet."
"Only if they know how content I am now,"
"They would never until they experienced it themselves,"
"Grim, aren't you, Strange," teasing, Tony folded his hands in front of his chest, "For a magical creature who could trespass any solid obstacles to accompany me here, you're so sour – you should be happy to spend a little more time with me, you know," he lightly chuckled. A friendly, affectionate chuckle.
As a response, Stephen smiled a bitter curve,
"Did you break some extra-terrestrial rules for being… You know, here?"
"Not at all – unless I force your soul back into your mortal form," he was half-joking, but Tony knew there was an underlying desire beneath his witticism, "Our victory demanded an absolute remittance and it was… you, if I do the thing I should never do, the branches of alternate realities will occur."
"Then, don't."
"I know you would say that."
Tony casually shrugged. Their attentive gazes fell on Pepper – she was smiling while brushing Tony's face, then in extremely slow motion, her warm expression cracked, replaced by a sorrowful face.
The mechanic averted his eyes,
"You've seen this, right, Doc?"
"A couple of times, yes," he nodded, "Death is like an old friend of mine, Tony, and should I say that it indeed is inevitable," Stephen's long, fixed stare softened, "I've been through many deaths, including my own final moment – it's not easy, it's painful, but it teaches me to appreciate little things."
Tony bit his bottom lip before questioning,
"What happened to the… You know, the other fourteen million six hundred and four?"
"You survived, but – "
"But – ?"
Stephen let the vortex of honey-colored eyes of his sank him; he was so goddamn late for realizing how beautiful and hypnotizing those flickering eyes was. He took a moment to think. To find the best yet satisfying answer to justify his own judgment, but all he found was darkness and paradoxes.
"Tony," his voice was shaky, "I've tried to look for another option; to save both of you and our earth, to sacrifice anything but you, but the more I searched, the more I sought, I found nothing but – "
"Stephen,"
It was his name. The sorcerer's nervousness was replaced by an empty, lonely face.
" – but?"
Stephen sighed. A heavy, arduous sigh,
"But the universe didn't."
Tony smiled. A tender, relieved smile,
"We did the right thing, then."
"There's nothing right and nothing wrong, Tony, it's a relative – objective concept," his bright, azure eyes, gleamed in an impossible way, "Letting you sacrifice yourself is not a thing I considered right."
"You chose the rightest one for me, in fact," Tony spoke sincerely, "My life after Titan was the best life I could ever ask for, honestly," his eyes stared at Pepper, at Peter, beyond the physical distance to imagine his little angel, Morgan, "I had a wife, a daughter, an unknown hut in the middle of the forest," he laughed at his own saying – living in the midst of nowhere was an anomaly compared to Tony's preference of fame and extravagance back then, "...you, gave me a chance to be better, Stephen."
And no one could ever give me such luxury,
But you.
"Did I?"
"Trust me, you did," the futurist held his laugh, and it almost sounded like a snort. He let the time flew slowly before turning his face to see Stephen's. Tony muttered, a hint of remorse escaped his lips, "I wish we have more time," he closed his eyes, "… I wish I could see you fourteen million five hundred and four."
At that statement, Stephen couldn't give him a proper reply,
'Time' – he considered it as the most important aspect of life. He understood it best. Still, he had no power to overcome the bills. What he comprehend, that time would never be obsolete.
It would always be precious.
"It's the little things that count," the man in red cloak bantered, "Besides, I've spent a lot of time with you, Tony. Just, it's not you, you, do you get me?" nevertheless, whichever Tony, you are, whichever Tony, I've met before, you're still you; you're the reason the universe survived, and I couldn't thank you enough for crossing your path against mine, Stephen nodded and this time, he did it wholeheartedly, "You don't need to burden yourself with memories you've never experienced, Tony," he returned Tony's radiant with the same energy, "It shall be only me, and trust me, I'm able to endure, survive, things."
"I never doubt you, Stephen, it's just…"
"Tony,"
" – thank you."
…
"Until then, Stark."
In a split second, his presence vanished – left nothing but empty air, no scent, no warmth, nothing.
Tony had gone to the place he couldn't follow.
Stephen closed his eyes, and when he opened it again, the time flew in its real phase. The second, the minute, the ticks of the clock, the grain of sand in the hourglass – his senses were back to normal, could he hear the sound of weeping and the smell of blood. He sensed death, and the next thing he recognized was a drop of unfamiliar substance trailed down his cheek. His face was stern and unmoved and the time around him froze, but his human side suddenly kicked in. He approached the weeping Spider-man and hugged his small, fragile figure before glancing at Pepper who told his husband to finally rest.
The Sorcerer Supreme had faith in those words,
Sleep well, Tony, he whispered, you deserve the rest.