AN: Tony learns to move forward thanks to Strange's cloak.

The Scent of Magic

"Tony...there was no other way…"

It was happening too fast. Tony's mind couldn't keep up with what his eyes were seeing, and he was sure he'd be turned to dust next.

Please just let it happen….

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good," Peter stumbled over to him, collapsing against Tony like he was feeling Death Herself grabbing onto his soul and ripping it from his bones.

Tony grasped onto him hard, trying to find words to help. But he couldn't form words, or even sounds; there was a lump in his throat he was sure was choking him to the death he deserved. He didn't even have the physical strength to hold Peter up when he became too weak to stand.

Tony wanted to tell him he was proud of him - to keep fighting it off.

Fight, kid...fight!...

"I'm sorry." Peter looked into his eyes, ashamed that he couldn't take the fear or pain (if it could even be called pain - it was more like an emptiness, a hollowness, that left him thinking that death was for the best). He had to look away from his mentor and father figure as he felt his bones and skin disintegrate.

And just like that, Strange and Peter were gone. Tony rolled away, looking at the ashes in his hand, willing the universe to make him disappear next. All he wanted was peace. The universe will rebuild itself. But he didn't want to be alive to see it. He was too tired.

He felt the void in his chest more than ever before and was sure he was next. He wanted to curse the world that it decided to take him last.

Then there was a heaviness he was not expecting; a sudden weight that grounded him and let him know he was still alive and going to stay that way. He opened his weary eyes to see red. Strange's cloak wrapped itself around Tony in a protective embrace as if it knew his pain and was somehow feeling his loss as well.

Tony closed his eyes again and lowered his head, the cloak wrapping loosely around his face like it was giving him permission to cry. Or scream. With the cocooning came a very distinct smell. It smelled like...magic. Tony almost chuckled ironically.

Because magic has a scent…

Though, maybe it did. The cloak was magic after all, and Strange was nothing but magic...or so Tony thought. There was an otherworldly regard about Strange that Tony wasn't able to put his finger on, and now that he was gone, he felt greater sadness over the fact that he didn't figure Strange out, rather than his actual loss.

Such a waste…

And Peter….what was he going to tell his aunt? What was he going to tell Pepper? Were either of them even still alive? Or did they get gloriously chosen too? Tony's scoff sounded more like a choked sob. He wondered if he was the only one out of everyone he knew that didn't get the clean up special. He felt like the biggest scum left on earth and considered reopening the wound Thanos granted him with.

He smacked the cloak away from his face, his mind blacking as soon as he saw some of Peter's ashes still on his hand. He pointed the sharp edge of his armor against his stomach, ready to dive in deep. But the cloak stopped him, surprisingly strong and determined.

Tony looked at it (in the eyes? He must be losing it if he's thinking he's looking straight into the eyes of a piece of cloth), and set his face hard.

"Let me do this," he mumbled between gritted teeth, his voice not even belonging to him.

The cloak waved from side to side, tightening itself around his hand when he tried again. They struggled until the cloak got irritated enough to hurriedly wrap around his center so it was impossible to stab himself without going through the cloak first.

"You think-," that's going to stop me? He couldn't finish his sentence out loud. He pointed the edge at his torso again, but stopped short of the cloak. He rationalized that it made zero sense to believe that he could kill the cloak if he stabbed it, but...what if he did? What if a small piece of Strange lived inside of it? Tony couldn't pretend to know what all magic entailed (especially Strange's magic), so even the small possibility that he could kill the last remaining piece of someone that he knew…

He slumped his arm to his side, "You win…" They were words of defeat that made him cringe.

At once, the cloak unwrapped itself from his middle and flowed around his shoulders again. Like a strong will and belief, the cloak lifted Tony to his feet. He was surprised his legs could support him. Then like an umbrella cut in a heavy storm, the cloak pulled him away from the graveyard spot and over toward the blue robot lady.

"I know someone like you," he said, trying not to think of it in past tense though he knew Vision was gone now that Thanos was able to get all the stones.

"We need to find parts to fix this ship," she said, already looking through the pile of rubble and ship parts. Tony assumed that the ship she was looking at fixing was Star Lord's. It got pretty damaged in the battle, but it was still in better shape than the Donut ship.

Tony stood still as he watched her. Did she really believe it was worth the effort? He didn't have time to dwell on the existential question before he was slapped hard on his face, an intense stinging following the shock.

The cloak was again looking at him. It looked stern.

I really must be losing it…

"I save your life and then you just stand there like a simpleton!"

Tony cocked his head to the side, swearing he heard Strange's voice from the cloak. He reached out and rubbed the fabric between his fingers gently, "Strange? Did you wizard yourself into your Superman cape?"

The cloak smacked his hand away and indicated to the ground. Tony caught Nebula's eye, but she quickly looked away, pretending like she didn't just catch him talking to...himself?

"Are you going to help or not?" She sounded annoyed in a defeated kind of way, "Thanos was last on Earth so we might as well try to go there and see if we can find out any more information. That's where you're from, right? Maybe some of your people are still alive."

My people…

The cloak pulled Tony forward again, this time leaning him to the ground in front of a ship part.

"Pull yourself together, Tony."

With war worn hands, Tony picked up a metal piece, almost surprised at how icely cold it was. The cloak patted him on the head.

"Good boy."

Tony still didn't have time to grieve, and he knew that was coming, and it hurt just thinking about the moment he was going to lose it. It was inevitable. His worst fear had come to pass and he couldn't even process it properly. Admitting how messed up his mind was to Strange when they were unknowingly heading toward Titan was not even the tip of the proverbial iceberg. And why did he even tell Strange all that in the first place? In front of the kid no less.

But maybe, whatever reason that was, it was a good thing he did. This cloak of his seemed to have an understanding that Tony needed to be picked up and moved to remind him that he was worth it and alive for a reason.

Tony thought about Strange's last words.

"...no other way…"

In his jumbled mind, Tony somehow pieced together that with the one time Strange saw them win in all the fourteen million six-hundred and four times they did not...it was because of him.

Tony couldn't help but let out a breath that may have been a chuckle.

"Strange, you son of a bitch….you could have given me a little warning."

He would deal with him later. He was sure of it. If Strange saw the future, one where Tony was able to save everyone after the fact somehow, then he had to stop letting his broken soul lead his decisions and come up with a plan on how to get Peter, and Strange, and everyone else that perished back to where they belonged.

"Just in spite of your smug face if nothing else…" Tony murmured, thinking of the wink and smirk Strange gave him when they first battled together on Earth.

The cloak flew behind him, like it was weightless, like it was proud it was able to convince Tony to stand up and keep walking forward, living and being the hero the universe needed.