Born Of The Same Impulse

Summary: Barely five minutes into the past and Tony has already taken care of Ultron, thus prevented Sokovia, thus – hopefully – made sure that the Civil War would never happen. All things considered, he was doing pretty well!

Then he just had to look up his fellow superhero turned time traveller on the internet.

Star Surgeon Involved In Car Crash, Condition Unknown


Chapter 7

"Hey, Vision. You can come in now."

Stephen looked taken aback – no wonder, as the Vision he'd known hadn't looked like one of Tony's armors. Tony supposed he could count himself lucky that Stephen had never known Ultron, and failed to make the connection.

"This is Vision," Tony said, cutting Stephen off before he could even begin to voice his questions. "He's an AI, so he doesn't have a physical body of his own. That's why he's operating the suit instead."

Stephen frowned, but thankfully took the hint and didn't question him. That would be just brilliant, Stephen chattering about other realities and the other Vision when Tony had taken great care to keep quiet about it.

"Vis, this is Doctor Stephen Strange. He's an… old friend of mine."

"Hello, Doctor," Vision said, and Tony was somewhat glad that he didn't offer his metal glove for a handshake. "It is nice to make your acquaintance."

"... Likewise," Stephen said, hesitant and stealing glances at Tony like he wasn't sure whether to address him or Vision.

Tony had almost forgotten that Stephen – as someone who had never been an Avenger, and thus hadn't spent much time in Avengers Tower – didn't have experience with his AIs. Had he known any of them, besides FRIDAY? Even then, it was unlikely for him to have grasped her complexity if the only occasion he had known her was during battle.

Oh well. He would step in if he had to, but Tony wanted to give Vision the chance to hold this conversation on his own. His AIs were all about learning, and in Vision's case that included learning to form bonds with other people.

It was then, absentmindedly taking a look around Stephen's apartment, that Tony's eyes fell on a dented, cracked box that looked almost like…

"What have you done to your poor coffee machine?" Tony had already crouched down to cradle the broken parts in his hands.

Stephen avoided meeting Tony's glance. "... It may be that I expressed my temper by spontaneously redecorating."

"Redecorating. Right." Tony shook his head in a look of exaggerated disappointment. "Well, this won't do."

He flopped down on the floor in a more comfortable position and the coffee machine in his lap, and proceeded to pull out a miniature toolbelt with ever so tiny tools on it. It held only the essentials, but Tony would make do.

"Do you always carry that with you?" Stephen asked, and, after Tony threw him a look, "... Nevermind."

Tony quickly fell into a soothingly familiar routine. His hands moved confidently and almost without thinking. He hadn't realized how desperately he had needed a breather, and some old-fashioned tinkering, almost trivial in its simplicity, did wonders for his nerves.

"You are a doctor," Vision said, somewhat blunt and without following it up with a question. As far as conversation starters went, he could have done worse.

What a picture he and Stephen made: a human who knew nothing about AIs and an AI who knew nothing about humans.

"Yes," Stephen said, getting over his hesitation. "Do you… know what that means?"

"Mr. Stark is a doctor," Vision said and made it sound like a question.

"True," Stephen said. "But Tony is a… different kind of doctor." Stephen might as well have said 'the wrong kind' or 'the useless kind'. Rude.

"In my case, being a doctor means that I studied to… help people. I learned to treat injuries and diseases, and to help people get well again."

"You are a human who… fixes other humans?"

"I suppose you could call it that." Stephen's face closed off, and a hollow feeling opened up in Tony's stomach. "At least I used to be."

Vision, inexperienced as he was, failed to notice the gigantic mood drop and carried on. "Why did you stop?"

"I wasn't exactly being given a choice."

"I don't understand," Vision said. "If you know how to heal, what is stopping you from doing so?"

Stephen didn't answer immediately. Tony tentatively went back to his self-assigned task.

"The kind of doctor that I used to be is called a surgeon. It means that I performed operations on the human body and made people better." He paused. "I suppose there's similarities between Tony and I, after all. He works on machines, while I work on– worked, on humans." Another pause, this time to raise his trembling hands to where they could see them. "It is not the kind of work I can complete with hands like these."

"I see," Vision said in a tone that suggested that he didn't. "Cannot another doctor heal them?"

"... No. Human medicine, it is... It is remarkable. It evolves at an almost breathtaking rate, and the kind of trauma that people are able to recover from nowadays–" Stephen cut himself off just when it sounded like he was about to burst into a science ramble. "But medicine is still limited. So is the human body. Some injuries simply cannot be treated, and these... They are beyond healing."

This time, his words sank in even for Vision. "I apologize. My intention was not to bring up bad memories for you."

"It is... fine," Stephen said. His hesitation belied his words. "I suppose the memories aren't so bad, from time to time. My work, it was... For a time, it was everything to me."

"I have to admit," Vision said, "that I am intrigued. The human body, it sounds fascinating. As does your profession. If you do not mind… That is, I would gladly ask more questions, if you allow me to."

Tony almost hoped that Stephen would decline. But as painful as the topic seemed, perhaps talking about it to someone would benefit him in the long run. It couldn't be healthy to leave such a huge part of his life behind and force himself to never look back.

"... Why not?" Stephen said, emitting hesitance when he was going for nonchalance. "What would you like to know?"

What followed was only short of being an interrogation. Vision's questions went from general – "How long did it take to become a doctor? How much about the human body do you know?" – to more specific – "What are the limits of the human body? What kind of innovations have humans made in medicine?" Stephen answered all of them thoroughly and with patience few would have thought him capable of. Listening in to his answers, it wasn't difficult for Tony to believe that Stephen had been – and still was – incredibly passionate about his profession.

He pretended not to notice the way Stephen's voice seemed to falter from time to time, and kept his eyes aimed strictly at the coffee machine in his lap whenever there was a suspicious pause in Stephen's sentences.

His resolve was tested more and more as the questions became more personal.

"Your specialty was neurosurgery then?" Vision asked.

"It was. It is considered one of the more complicated branches in medicine. It takes many years to complete the necessary training, and even then, a neurosurgeon never stops learning. As quickly as the practice is changing, they would fall behind, otherwise."

"But how is neurosurgery possible, at all?" Vision's head tilted to the side. "If there was to be a flaw in my programming, Mr. Stark could shut me down and correct the mistake without causing me any harm. You cannot shut down a human. And my assumption was that the brain was one of the most delicate parts of your body. How can you… operate, on it, without killing your patient?"

"People used to think it was impossible. The brain is far more resilient and far more likely to adapt and recover from damage that it suffered than we used to think. There's a term for it called neuro– neuroplasticity–"

Stephen paused and turned his head away. Tony's hands stilled as Stephen cleared his throat. He carried on like nothing had happened. "It is the brain's ability to change and adapt over the course of a person's life. Certain functions of the brain can be transferred to a different location, which makes it far more durable and able to recover from direct damage."

His voice was steady up until the end, but Tony didn't go back to his tinkering regardless. Vision didn't seem to have noticed anything.

"You mean to say that your programming can rewrite itself? Just like mine?"

"I suppose," Stephen said. "I'm not familiar with programming, much less with AIs. But the comparison sounds fitting."

He hesitated again, and Tony wouldn't admit how concerning it was to see Stephen pausing and faltering in his words so often, when usually he was nothing but confident.

"There was this patient I treated…" Stephen trailed off. He cleared his throat again. "One of my patients, he… We were going to do an experimental surgery where…" He stopped.

Tony's eyes were glued to the floor.

"I… I…"

Stephen's voice cracked, and Tony couldn't bear it for a second longer. He pushed himself to his feet, only after carefully setting down the fixed coffee machine. "Alright," he said, trying not to let his voice waver. "That's it. This isn't working out."

Stephen's eyes flew open when they'd been pressed shut before, and Tony saw emotions flash over his face in rapid succession. There was surprise, hurt and far worse that Tony wanted to burn out of his skull immediately. The worst, by far, was betrayal.

"You know where the door is," Stephen said, his voice hoarse and wound far too tight.

"I do." Tony looked around the room and pointedly went into the opposite direction of the exit. He should have done this ages ago.

A peek into Stephen's closet didn't reveal what Tony was looking for, so he turned and tried another. And another. He was halfway across the apartment by the time Stephen regained his wits, Vision standing next to him motionlessly and silent.

"What in the world are you doing?" Stephen said.

"Looking for a suitcase."

"... A suitcase," Stephen repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"You know what? You're right. That's ridiculous." Tony went back to the closet, snatching up two jackets and a couple other pieces of clothing. He dropped one of the jackets into Stephen's lap and thrust the rest into Vision's arms. "Be a dear and carry this for me, will you? I'll just send over some people to deliver the rest."

"Yes, Sir," Vision said, bemusement in his voice but not questioning the order.

"Deliver my–" Stephen cut himself off, half-heartedly glowering at Tony. "Anthony Stark, stay still and tell me what you think you're doing."

"Easy." Tony looked Stephen into his eyes. "You're coming with me."

There was a pause.

"With you," Stephen repeated.

"We've tried it this way. You doing your thing, me doing mine. And it's not working out. Should have seen it coming, really." Tony spotted Stephen's shoes next, and snatched them up to drop them next to Stephen. They were ugly, laceless slip-ons.

"So. You're not doing well on your own – which is understandable," Tony barrelled straight through Stephen's protest, "I'm the same. Slipping on my own but horrible at admitting it. So, you're coming to the tower. With me."

Tony fell silent, and still, Stephen didn't answer. As the silence dragged on, doubt started to creep in. "I mean. You don't have to. This is an offer, you can do what you want, obviously. I just thought…"

"Tony."

"You're not obligated, just because I said–"

"Tony."

"This was honestly kind of spontaneous, I swear I would have told you if–"

"Tony."

Tony fell silent. Stephen's brows were drawn in what wasn't quite irritation. His expression softened as soon as Tony's rambling stopped.

"Thank you. This is," he hesitated, "unexpected. But I appreciate it."

"Is that a yes then?"

Stephen's eyes flickered to Vision, who was still awkwardly carrying a pile of his belongings. In retrospect, Tony should have probably waited for an answer before ransacking the apartment.

Stephen huffed, and Tony didn't think he imagined the fondness that laid in it. "Might as well. Although," he paused, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't you fly here? I can't exactly portal us to the tower."

"'Portal'–?"

"Right. Sorry, my mistake," Tony said, wincing at Vision's question. He'd have to take him aside for a talk later if Stephen insisted on being careless about their secrets like this. "No worry, the suit's parked on the roof, I can pick it up later. I'll just call someone."


"One second Happy, there's a call." Pepper frowned at the name on the display, but answered regardless. "Tony? Is that you?"

"Hey, Pep. Where are you right now?"

"I'm on the way back to the tower. Happy is driving. Didn't you say you–"

"Perfect. Tell him to swing by elsewhere, first. You gotta pick me up."

"Happy, wait a second," Pepper said, leaning towards the driver's seat. Happy raised an eyebrow, but stopped the car to wait for directions. "Why do we need to pick you up? I thought you'd taken the armor. Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm with a friend," Tony said, but didn't elaborate. "Look, just come over, alright? I'll text you the address." With that, he hung up.

Pepper sighed, but passed on the address anyway. She had long since given up trying to make sense of Tony, and had learned to go along with at least his minor whims about a year into knowing him.

"A friend, huh?" Happy said instead of being professional and acting like he hadn't listened in on their conversation. "Any idea who he's talking about?"

"Not a clue," Pepper said.

The address wasn't far, and Tony was already waiting by the time they arrived. He wasn't alone.

Pepper schooled her face into a blank expression. She recognized the Iron Man armor as the one Vision was using, but did a double take at the person next to Tony. His "friend" looked closer to a homeless guy, with his beard and his unkempt, if not sickly appearance.

"I will see you at the tower, Mr. Stark," Vision said just as Pepper contemplated leaving the car.

"You sure?" Tony asked. "You could drive with us, if you wanted 's room."

"That won't be necessary." Vision turned to face the car. "Mr. Hogan, Miss Potts. I will see you later." With that the repulsors roared to life, and Vision took off. As soon as he was gone, Tony made a beeline for the driver's side of the car.

"Get out," he said, gesturing for Happy to leave the car. "I feel like driving myself, so shoo."

"Are you for real?" Happy sent Tony an entirely unprofessional glare that would have gotten him fired with any other employer. "First I was your pointless bodyguard, now you're trying to make me your pointless driver?"

"Go on. My car, my rules."

"What am I even here for if I'm not allowed to drive?"

"Stop being dramatic," Tony said, sliding into the driver's seat as soon as Happy had given in. "You're acting like I'm abandoning you on the streets. There's plenty of space in the backseat, off you go."

Happy grumbled under his breath, and soon joined Pepper on the backseat. The homele– Tony's friend got to take the passenger seat.

"So," Pepper said, clearing her throat as Tony steered the car into the streets. "Aren't you going to… introduce us?"

"Right. Yeah, sure. Stephen, this is Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts–"

"Technically I'm his driver, she's his CEO."

"They're two of my closest friends–"

"Who just happen to be working for him."

"Oh shush." Tony threw a glance into the rear mirror. "You make it sound like I'm buying your friendship."

"I don't know about Pepper," Happy said, "but I've had my eyes on that new Lamborghini. Just in case someone was wondering."

Pepper snorted, and Tony ignored the remark entirely. "Pepper, Happy. This is Doctor Stephen Strange. We... weren't exactly on speaking terms for a while, but he's an old friend."

"I see," Pepper said, giving Strange a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Doctor."

"Likewise," Strange said, barely turning to face her.

Pepper kept her expression pleasant and chased off the frown that was threatening to sneak on her face. She could count the number of people that Tony considered his friends on one hand – perhaps more since the Avengers had happened – and she had never heard of a Stephen Strange before. Tony had said that they hadn't been on speaking terms. Could that be the reason? Had they met before Pepper's time, and only now reconciled? It sounded unlikely, but why would Tony lie to her?

It certainly wasn't the oddest behavior Tony had shown in the last few weeks.

"Um. Boss," Happy said, frowning at the traffic around them. "Are you okay?"

"Sure am," Tony said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The car behind them honked. Loudly.

"You're driving ten under the speed limit."

"Excuse you," Tony said, throwing a glance into the rear mirror. "Are you seriously judging me for driving responsibly?"

"I'm not judging–"

"Pepper, are you listening to this? Happy is trying to encourage unsafe driving practices."

"I'm not– You're not–"

"Should I have second thoughts about who I'm hiring to drive me places?"

Happy spared himself the answer, but grumbled something about hypocrisy. Another honk sounded behind them, longer than the first. Tony ignored it.

"Tony," Pepper said, "I've never seen you obey driving laws like this. You always drive above the speed limit."

"Well, maybe I'm trying to–"

"It's for my sake," Strange threw in before Tony managed to make another attempt at deflection. His voice was quiet, his eyes directed downwards and avoiding eye contact. "I cannot say that I am overly fond of cars."

Pepper followed his gaze to land on his hands. Scars ran over them in angry lines, and a tremor made them shake and twitch in a way that was painful to look at. She saw Happy's eyes widen as he made the same observation, and they fell into uncomfortable silence.

"So," Pepper said, clearing her throat awkwardly when the tension grew too thick, "How do you two know each other?"

Tony and Strange shared a glance, and Pepper realized that she would not receive a straight answer for the rest of the car ride. She also found out, listening to wild tales about charity galas and one night stands, that there was, in fact, someone out there with an ego that rivalled Tony's own. Who would have thought.

Happy, the traitor, popped in headphones about two minutes into the conversation. Pepper was left to listen to the bickering of two people so similar to each other, she couldn't help but wonder how they had ever become friends.

"To this day," Tony said, "I still don't know if he was flirting with me or my date by the end of the night."

"Wouldn't you like to know," Stephen said, letting out an impressive huff. "Please realize that I tend to not go for people whose ego rivals even my own."

"Oh please," Tony said, and on they went exchanging jabs.

In retrospect, perhaps the awkward silence had been preferable.


A/N: Passed my first practical exam! :D Whoo!

Beta'd by the wonderful Igornerd, To Mockingbird and PyrothTenka!

Please take a moment to let me know what you thought!

~Gwen