It was the past. It was the future. It was everything in between. It was space untouched by time. It was space condensed within time. Stephen Strange tumbled through a vortex of liminal space, space between spaces, time between times and within times, caught in the intersections of planes within the celestial sphere. Spheres. There had always been more than one, and he was in all of them at once and, at the same time, none of them at all.
His body was left behind. He shuttled through the kaleidoscope world he had only ever experienced once before, when the Ancient One thrust his mind from his body, tore his soul from the foundation of his physical form and –
He did not exist. He existed in everything. He was spread thin. He was condensed to a pinhead point of being in the folds of vast cosmic realms. There was no longer any him. Just being. Just everything and all that had ever been, was to come, would never end.
Colors. Sounds. All of the essence of life.
Ruin. At the heart of it all: ruin.
The universe crumbled. Distorted into something ugly, broken, and base. A black pit of nothingness that tore Stephen limb from limb, clawed him inside-out. Left him bleeding. Made him whole.
"You think you can stop me, Sorcerer?" the voice was everywhere and nowhere, surrounding Stephen and issuing inside his own head. "You think you can stop me?" the voice cackled.
"I see you, Sorcerer."
"You lay in the palm of my hand."
"All I need do is close my fist upon your tiny, fragile body and crush the life from your simple flesh."
Ruin. All was ruin. Stephen saw the skyscrapers of New York collapse. He heard screams. He saw jungles aflame, oceans boiling, the earth torn asunder as the fiery-depths of its core bubbled out of great fissures in its surface, engulfing rock, grass, sand, and trees in molten lava. Death. An infinity of death and destruction.
"I offer balance to the universe," said the voice and Stephen knew it was Thanos. Thanos, here with him, watching him, gazing from afar, within his very being. "I will right the wrongs of a broken world, join together what was once torn apart. I will be your destroyer. I will be your creator. Your beloved conqueror. Your savior. Your God."
Stephen was flung through a swirl of darkness and light in a perennial freefall. He had been lost for years. He had been lost for no time at all. Never had the person Dr. Stephen Strange existed. There had only ever been this terrible pin-wheeling through nothingness and all.
"Soon you will know what it's like to lose," Thanos whispered in Stephen's ear in the gentle caress of a lover. "To feel so desperately that you're right. Yet to fail all the same."
"Dread it," Thanos bellowed and the air trembled with the echoes of his wrath. "Run from it."
"Destiny still arrives," said Thanos using Stephen's voice, using Stephen's lips. The words penetrated deep into Stephen's stomach, burrowing there like a knife.
Stephen gasped for breath, and in that moment remembered he had lungs, yet there was no breath to fill them. Terror erupted through his mind. The Time Stone pulsed in its locket against his chest, white-hot and angry. Yearning…anxious to answer the call of its master.
Stephen yanked it back. His body screamed in agony. He caught sight of a door, a handle between the folds of the universe. He reached for it – fading, transparent fingers slipping on the fabric of the cosmos, refusing to catch hold.
His hand brushed something solid. He closed his fist and yanked –
Stephen tumbled out of a yawning vortex and collapsed in a heap on a cold, metal surface. He could hear the hum of an engine below his ear. The world stopped spinning, tugged to an abrupt halt that felt like a physical blow.
He was clutching the Eye of Agamotto with its chain around his neck. His palm was seared as though he'd touched hot metal but the locket was strangely cool. His body ached. It took him a moment to remember how to breathe. When he was finally able to lift his head, it was to find four pairs of shocked eyes trained on his body on the floor.
He fixed his gaze on Tony Stark, relief blossoming so violently in his chest that he thought he might be ill: he'd made it back. He was in the quinjet. And there was Wanda Maximoff. She had gotten there safely, too.
Stark's face was a blotched mess of red and white rage. He blurted out of a tight throat, "For someone who commands the damn Time Stone, you sure are lousy at not showing up when you're supposed to."
Stephen was still gasping for breath. He lifted a trembling hand to his forehead and found his skin damp with sweat. "How –" he croaked, voice dry from disuse. "How long have I been gone?"
"Bout five hours," said Brunnhilde with a shrug. "We thought you were dead."
Five hours. He didn't know whether to be relieved it had not been five years or horrified that he had been missing for so long. Dull dread thudded in Strange's stomach and he urged himself to his feet. Stephen managed to stand, keeping himself steady by holding onto the back of one of the many revolving chairs that rimmed the quinjet's deck. "Peter, is he –" his eyes immediately fell on the grinning boy, swinging his legs off the side of his cot. "You're supposed to be in bed."
Peter's bandage had been removed from his head. He looked completely healthy. "Nah, I'm good," he said.
"Loki healed him," said Maximoff, looking the most unsteady on her feet barring, perhaps, Stephen himself.
Loki – mass-murdering despot who'd wrecked upper Manhattan six years ago? Stephen saw a motionless form on the pull-out cot across from Peter's. The only thing Stephen could think to say was a stupid, "Why is he blue?"
"It's his Jotun form," said Brunnhilde.
"Which is something you would have known if you hadn't been gone for five fucking hours," Stark snapped, never one to be ignored for too long.
Stephen's mind was rushing too quickly to keep up. He fumbled for something to defend himself with as guilt swam to the forefront of his emotions. "I couldn't – I had no choice. I couldn't get back."
"So maybe you should never have gone in the first place, huh?" Stark demanded, taking a step forward and sounding dangerously near shouting. "Like what I told you in the first place."
"If he had not come," said Maximoff. Her voice was entirely steady, even if her trembling knees were not. "Then he could not have rescued me. Or Loki. And Peter would likely be dead."
"I mean," said Peter apologetically, "she kind of has a –"
Peter was cut off by Stark saying, "Not helping here, kid," simultaneously as Brunnhilde stepped forward and took firm hold of Maximoff's elbow.
"You're the one who should be in bed," she said gruffly.
Maximoff allowed herself to be helped by Brunnhilde onto a third retractable cot. The quinjet now resembled a hospital ward more than anything else. Stephen furrowed his eyebrows, "Are you hurt? What about…" it felt strange to be concerned for a war criminal, but apparently Loki had saved Peter's life, Stephen was at least partially willing to let bygones be bygones. "Loki? Is he –?"
"His skin is too cold to touch," Brunnhilde answered. "It'll burn you if you try. We can only watch and hope he doesn't die, I guess."
"And Wanda's pregnant," said Stark testily. "Another revelation you missed. With Vision's twins. Which is, I'm not gonna lie, just a little freaky."
Maximoff shot Stark an exasperated look. Stephen frowned. It was another complication they had not foreseen, something they did not have time to deal with. Something Stephen couldn't deal with now. Not when –
Ruin. All that lay before them was ruin. Stephen bowed his head, breathing hard. But what future had he seen? Was it what was to be or merely a possibility? Or had it already occurred? The idea that they, the six of them, in their tiny metal hull were the last living remains of the universe was suddenly a horrifying possibility, one Stephen refused to let himself dwell upon.
"Fuck, not another one," said Brunnhilde.
Stephen shook his head and raised a hand. "I'm fine. I'm alright."
"You sure as hell better be," Stark growled. "You're the one who has to get this bird back to earth. We've got what we came for. We need to get back before Thanos decides earth is the best next place to wipe out."
"He already has," said Stephen, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth. "I saw –" He did not know how to explain what he had seen. "I saw him go to earth. I saw him destroy it. I saw the wreckage of the universe. We – Stark, we can't go back."
That was not the right thing to say. Stark's face clouded with anger. "Are you out of your fucking skull?" he demanded. "Not go back?"
All they had aboard was a seventeen-year-old child recovering from severe head trauma, a pregnant witch, an alcoholic warrior princess, a half-dead god, and a genius egomaniac likely suffering from post-traumatic stress. It was not a promising hand.
Stephen struggled to keep a check on his voice. "Now is not a good time to go running into battle, Stark."
"What are we supposed to do? Just abandon earth to this – this madman who you just say lay waste to the universe –"
Stephen's efforts not to yell were suddenly eclipsed. He knew not what triggered it: "I bear the Time Stone, Stark! Thanos knows this! Returning the to earth would be as good as offering the Stone to Thanos!"
"Er, guys," said Peter meekly from his perch atop his cot. "I don't know whether –"
Stark ignored Peter, taking another step toward Stephen, spit flying from his lips. "You selfish piece of shit! I'm not letting you – no way are you just going to overrule me again and do whatever the hell you want to do! You have no right to waylay this mission again, not when the first time could have resulted in Peter's death –" Stark's voice might have cracked, Stephen didn't care.
He was angry now, too, and motivated by a shuttling terror deep in his bones that he couldn't shake – not since he'd seen the death and destruction that waited for them on earth, revealed to him in the cracks between time and space.
"This is bigger than us, Stark!" Stephen shouted. "I told you on Xandar – this has always been bigger than us! I thought you understood that. Now I've seen what Thanos can do –"
Stark rushed forward, but Strange took a step back, unwilling to resort to violence yet. Stephen let Stark back him against the wall even though everything in him was urging him to backhand the man across the face.
"Alright boys," Brunnhilde was suddenly there, shouldering her way between them. Stephen felt himself hoisted off his feet by the collar of his shirt. Stark was as well, sputtering in rage and shock. Stephen had forgotten for a moment that the woman was an Asgardian, and, as such, would have physical strength similar to Thor's. "Nough's enough. I didn't come here to tend children."
Brunnhilde set them both back on the ground. Stephen's face flushed with heat, embarrassment quickly overtaking his anger. Stark stumbled away and collapsed into a chair. Turning so he faced the wall and no one could see his face. He might have been sulking, but at least he was silent.
Brunnhilde let the moment of silence linger for a moment. "Executive decision," she said finally, "the only way around this is taking a vote. God knows why I decided to step up, but we can't have one person running this show, anymore. It's been a disaster from the start. So everyone gets a say. I'll go first."
Brunnhilde glared at those around her, daring someone to interject. Peter was looking at her with wide-eyes, obviously impressed that she'd had the nerve to put both Stephen and Stark so resolutely in their places. Maximoff was sitting up on her elbows, pale, maybe too weak to bother saying anything. Stark still had his back to the room. Stephen sure as hell didn't want to be punted through the hull of the ship into the vacuum of space, so he stayed silent, too.
Brunnhilde took a deep breath and began, "I have to say, I agree with Strange in that it's probably a lousy idea to go to earth when that's probably where Thanos is heading, anyway. But if earth's going to be the place of our last stand, I'd rather I fight alongside what's left of my people rather than find myself choking on my own blood on some no-name system after Thanos finally catches up with us. I took a long time off from being a hero. But I guess once you start again it's hard to stop. So, no, I can't see myself staying out here when we might be at least some help back there. Spider-kid, what about you?"
"It's – uh – Spider-man," said Peter, clearing his throat. He scrubbed the back of his neck with a hand. "I mean…I don't know. I guess I agree with – uh – Ms. Brunnhilde." Brunnhilde's lip quirked slightly at Peter's moniker. "If I'm going to have to fight, I'd rather fight for home."
Stark turned marginally in his chair, Stephen knew it was to flash Peter a grateful smile. Peter said rapidly, "And that's not – you know, because I know Tony better than I know you, Dr. Strange. It's just…what I really feel."
"Great," said Brunnhilde, "Maximoff?"
Maximoff was silent for a heart-beat, chewing on her bottom lip. When she finally spoke, her voice was faint and her eyes fixed themselves directly on Stephen. Stephen's chest clenched, wondering if this was going to be another apology speech.
"For a moment in the throne room," she said, "I penetrated Thanos' mind with my own. I saw the destruction he hopes to enact upon the universe and all we know of life – and all we do not know. I have – I have lost much. I have seen my home demolished once before. Since then, I do not think I ever have felt at home anywhere else. I have always been…a drifter. And – and if there is but the slimmest chance of keeping this Stone away from –" Wanda choked. She closed her lips, shut her eyes. On her exhale, she whispered, "I agree with Dr. Strange. I – but I do not want to abandon earth. Please do not think I –"
"We don't," said Stark unexpectedly. His voice was almost understanding. Stephen wouldn't have thought the man capable of such a complicated emotion. "Wanda, we don't."
Maximoff looked at her lap and nodded. "I don't want to abandon earth," she whispered again.
Stark finally turned back around, pushing his heals off the floor to propel his chair as if he was little boy playing in his father's office. "We already know my vote, I think." His voice held the note of victory.
Stephen could count, too. Even if Maximoff had agree with Stephen, it was still three to two.
"What about Loki?" Did Stephen sound vicious? He hadn't meant to. He could take loss gracefully. Besides, this should be about more than just bruising his ego.
"Loki's unconscious and abstains the vote. He's coming with us," said Brunnhilde firmly. "Besides, Thor would be pissed if I let his little brother out of my sight. Even if he's an asshole."
Stephen nodded, even if he wanted to shake his head, to offer more protests. He and Maximoff had both seen Thanos' plans. As such, their votes should carry more weight.
"Okay, Strange?" Brunnhilde interrupted Stephen's thoughts, the fierceness of her expression telling Stephen that she would have something to say – or do – about it if he was anything but okay. "You heard the vote. It's still up to you to get us there. We certainly can't cross that much space by ourselves if we hope to get there sometimes before it's just me left because the rest of you have died of old age."
All eyes were back on Stephen. He swallowed past the dry lump in his throat, the terrible pulsating knowledge that they were running headlong into a foolish decision, and said, "Alright."
OOO
All the children, and the men and women untrained as warriors, took shelter in the mountains of J'Abariland. T'Challa and his mother made Shuri leave only by force after she'd remained unpersuaded by the argument that, if they were to entertain any thought of actually winning this fight, they needed the leader of the Wakandan Design Group unscathed so she could make repairs on any equipment and oversee medical procedures of any injuries. T'Challa allowed himself to smile at her stubbornness now that she was safely out of the way; his sister had the heart of a warrior, but he would not allow her to take part in any more battles, not until she at least came of age and he couldn't stop her anymore.
His people armed themselves, readied for a fight among the undergrowth of the jungle. The portal sputtered above Birnin Zana, issuing forth a fleet of enemy vessels. Wakandan unmanned fighter drones zoomed into battle, controlled by remote from an outpost in the mountains. They did not have to worry about the air. It was the ground that worried T'Challa, and the moment the aliens realized they were being faced by jets unmanned by human pilots.
But they would be ready. T'Challa had to believe his people would be strong enough to face this.
"My King." It was Okoye, hitting aside branches and leaves with her spear as she strode forward, face tight, obviously carrying ill news. T'Challa braced himself for impact.
"It is W'Kabi, my King," said Okoye, distaste evident on her face as she spoke the name of her old lover. "And his Border Tribe come with their rhinos," she spat the word as if it was a curse but T'Challa could barely contain his smile – tactfully, he did, for he doubted Okoye would appreciate much if he laughed in this moment.
"I see," said T'Challa. "He has come to fight with us?"
"Yes," said Okoye gravely. "He has come to fight. And begs an audience with you, if you will stomach his presence. I told him it was likely you would not."
"Thank you, Okoye," said T'Challa, clearing his throat to make sure no hint of levity carried through. "I will see him."
"My King," Okoye disappeared with a salute of her arms to her chest, disappearing into the jungle. She returned swiftly once again, making no great effort to make sure W'Kabi, trailing behind her, was able to keep up.
When W'Kabi came before T'Challa, he immediately dropped to his knee. He spoke to the ground, "My King, you have been merciful to my tribe. You have been merciful to me in the wake of my great betrayal. You have bore us no ill-will. For this, I am deeply grateful. I offer you now the hearts of my people – my heart – for your servitude. To fight by your side as I once did, to repay your great kindness, in the face of this great enemy. I humbly ask for your mercy once more. Your forgiveness of my transgressions, your permission to join ranks with the warriors of Wakanda once again."
Many emotions churned in T'Challa's chest. His city was being torn apart by aliens only a mile away, yet here was T'Challa's friend – his companion since childhood. A brother. T'Challa could not distinguish between the tears and joy that clogged his throat.
"W'Kabi," he said, stepping forward, "although the circumstances are less than ideal –" He was laughing now, he could not help it. W'Kabi looked up in surprise and T'Challa extended his arms, drawing W'Kabi back to his feet, "I am glad indeed that you have finally broken your silence." He clapped W'Kabi on the shoulders with both his hands. "My friend," he said, meaning it, despite past hurts. "I relish the chance to fight side by side with you again."
W'Kabi nodded once, briskly. When he spoke his voice was husky: "Thank you, my King. My life is yours. Lead me as you will. I was wrong for ever thinking otherwise."
"It took you long enough, you fool," Okoye spat behind him. Her voice was tight and T'Challa was shocked to see there were tears in her eyes, as well.
W'Kabi was evidently also taken aback, for he exchanged a frightened, disbelieving glance with T'Challa. "You have certainly called me such often enough," W'Kabi said to Okoye, merest wisp of a hopeful smile on his lips. "I should have learned long ago."
"That you should," said Okoye fiercely. W'Kabi's smile dissolved. Okoye shook her head, "But, if you and I live another day, perhaps you will hear me call you fool once again."
T'Challa chuckled. "Okoye, show W'Kabi back to his people. Let them defend the mountain pass. Our enemies must not reach J'Abariland."
"They will not," W'Kabi promised gravely, and Okoye led him away.
T'Challa walked through the undergrowth of the jungle. He spotted Steve Rogers and Sergeant Barnes atop a slight incline, tall enough to peer through the thick trees toward the city. Steve did so through a pair of binoculars. T'Challa preferred not to watch the ongoing destruction himself.
"How can you stand it?" Steve marveled, putting down his binoculars when he became aware of T'Challa's presence. "Watching your city be destroyed. Just waiting."
T'Challa shook his head. "Things can be repaired," he said simply. "My people's lives are more important."
"I guess that's why you're the king," said Barnes. He took the binoculars from Steve. When he peered through them he gave a low whistle.
T'Challa felt like he'd been punched in the stomach but forced himself not to react; clearly Barnes had not meant to be tactless.
"How does your new arm suit you, Sergeant?" T'Challa knew Shuri called Barnes Bucky, at his request, but Barnes had not yet asked T'Challa to do so. T'Challa suspected it was because Barnes was not yet certain what kind of relationship was between them – the harbored assassin and the would-be revenger. T'Challa hoped that, by the time this was all over, he and Barnes might be able to call themselves friends, as well.
"It's good," said Barnes thoughtfully, rotating his newly repaired shoulder. "Very light. It feels…like an arm."
"Shuri will be able to replace the socket," said T'Challa, "if you so desire, once this is over. She says she has an improved version from the one HYDRA forced upon you. It will be entirely painless but will take some time to recover from."
"Yes," said Barnes. His voice was so gentle for one who had been through so much. His eyes crinkled fleetingly with pleasure at the mention of Shuri and T'Challa was glad his sister had become at least one friend for Barnes in this unfamiliar world. "She mentioned it to me. She said she could make it so the arm is detachable. That might be," he thought for a moment, "nice. Being able to take it off."
Steve looked at Barnes, eyebrows furrowed in sympathy. T'Challa hoped both men, these two warriors out of time, might be able to find some sort of peace after all this was…over. One this was over: the seemingly unsurmountable caveat to all their future plans.
"You are not with your other teammates, Steve?" said T'Challa. Steve had given him the lecture about Captain America long ago when he first showed up to Wakanda with Barnes.
Steve hesitated, "I don't think we're really too much of a team, anymore."
"Maybe not," said T'Challa, "but I think that may be fixed again with the aid of your leadership."
Steve's smile was tired and sad. He flexed his right wrist, where his new shield could spiral outward at will. T'Challa hadn't asked him how it suited him like he had with Barnes' new arm; the man was already too sensitive about taking it in the first place. "Maybe we could be a team. But I don't think I could ever be a leader. Besides, like Bucky said, you're the king. That's more than enough."
"You may not be a king," T'Challa insisted, "nevertheless, are a leader. They would not follow you now because you are Captain America. They would follow you because they trust you."
"Maybe he'll be able to get through that thick skull of yours, huh?" said Barnes, binoculars back up to his eyes. His smile suddenly faded and when he spoke again his voice was urgent, "You Highness, Steve, something's appearing in the field. It's – damn – another alien ship. It's different than the others."
"Hostile?" Steve demanded.
Barnes put down his binoculars. His brow was furrowed, already reaching for the rifle strapped to his back. "Are there any other kind?"
OOO
"This sure as hell ain't any earth I recognize," said Star-Lord as soon as the wispy field of the Tesseract's energy faded from view. The Milano touched ground in the center of a wide, yellow field. It was not any earth Thor recognized, either, but a land he had never been to before. Behind them rose the tower spires of a golden city – Thor's first, wild thought was of the golden towers of Asgard, but then he recognized the city was under attack by a fleet of vessels, just as the Nova Corps Headquarters had been.
"Uh," said Rocket, "I hate to break it to you, but they sure as hell ain't friendly." Rocket was pointing not toward the city, but toward a jungle at the edge of the field, out of which several flat, hover-crafts had emerged. They looked to be some kind of troop transports, what with the multitude of people that stood upon their decks – all with shouldered weapons and zipping straight toward the Milano with every apparent intention of attack.
"I thought you said that thing would bring us to your friends!" Nebula shouted.
Thor still clung to the glass carrier of the Tesseract. Truthfully, he had thought the Tesseract would bring them back to New York, to Tony's tower where he had first taken off. He did not understand why it had brought them to this strange place.
Gamora wasted no time in speaking, but dashed over to the ramp controls, releasing the hatch to allow a wave of dry heat into the Milano's interior. "Those are Thanos' ships attacking that city – I'm pretty sure these people will be willing to accept help if we can just get them to listen to us."
"And if they do not listen, then they will not be very difficult to kill," said Drax simply.
"No," said Star-Lord urgently, on Gamora's heels as she raced down the descending ramp. "No killing. At least not until Gamora or I say so."
"Until I say so!" Gamora shouted after her.
"Until she says so," Star-Lord remedied with a shrug.
Thor lumbered after Gamora and Star-Lord, bringing the Tesseract with him in case these people required some kind of proof of his identity – surely, they would have heard of the Avengers, no matter what country he had landed himself in. Some of the warriors aboard the hover-crafts were carrying spears. Thor tried to think what people of earth still fought with spears yet were technologically advanced enough for hovercrafts but could not call anything to mind. Jane had tried to teach him Midgardian geography, but he'd never been a very attentive student.
"We mean no harm," Gamora shouted to the oncoming vessels, hands raised in surrender even though Thor knew she must desperately have wished to draw her sword from her side.
"Well, let 'em know we could maybe cause a little harm," said Rocket, emerging from the Milano at Thor's side, firing up his laser cannon.
"Rocket, dude!" Star-Lord exclaimed. "Put the gun away! We're going for nonthreatening here."
"Maybe a little threatening," said Nebula, who had also drawn her twin shock rods.
"You know, you're not too bad," said Rocket to Nebula, and Thor spotted the briefest of smiles cross her lips before she succeeded in hiding it.
"Please," said Thor, running to catch up with Gamora, "let me do the talking. They will recognize who I am –"
Thor was cut off by a sharp voice from the front hovercraft, still a throwing-distance away but well within the range of a projectile weapons. The speaker was a fierce looking woman with a shaved head, stern eyes, and raised spear. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And what are you here for? Answer swiftly. I shall not ask again."
"My Lady –" Thor stepped forward.
"I am no man's Lady," the woman scoffed. She raised her spear higher.
Thor amended rapidly, stumbling over his words. "Noble warrior! We mean you no harm. I am Thor of Asgard, one of the Avengers, Earth's mightiest –"
"Thor?" demanded someone and Thor was shocked to spot a familiar face among the strangers. Her hair had somehow turned white, but it was indeed Natasha Romanoff who faced him, also with a drawn weapon, but she lowered her gun marginally as recognition spread across her face. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you get –"
She was interrupted as the Tesseract sputtered at Thor's side. The glass casing around it shattered to the hilt Thor gripped in his hand. Thor yelped in surprise as the Tesseract dropped free of its tubular case. It hit the Milano's ramp and clattered off the edge, landing in the soft, withered grass below.
Every eye was trained on the icy blue cube as it pulsed and flared. The fabric of space tore with the sound of ripping cloth. A blue-edged portal emerged from thin-air. A large leg reached through, followed by the bulky form of an armored being Thor had become all-too familiar with since that morning.
"No!" Gamora and Nebula shrieked as one.
Thanos grinned and stepped fully onto the grass, very much present and not the mere semi-illusion Thor had faced on Xandar.
"Thor, son of Odin," Thanos growled, "I have come to collect on our bargain. The Tesseract for your brother's life."