Hello,

Sorry it took me so long. I struggled with this chapter. I had wanted it to be in Strange's POV, but then I hit and wall. To get around that wall, I switched to Tony's POV.

I will admit this chapter is... well this chapter is...

Anyhow, let me know what you think.

Chapter 21:

Aftermath and the questions

Stephen Strange was worthless.

His hands were useless.

His money was gone.

His life as he knew it was over.

So once again, Stephen Strange was worthless.

There was no denying this fact, and yet, here he was, trying to get his life—his hands- back. Or rather, he was trying to get prospect of his life back. His life was in shambles, not even a shadow of his former life. Stephen Strange hadn't put on a white coat in months, hadn't worked as a doctor in months -he would always be a doctor—, but yet, his body acted on instinct, being a doctor second nature to him, and for the first time in months, he felt useful. Normal. God, he would do anything to keep this.

Stark's crumbled form in front of him, Strange's brain kicked into gear, and muscles he hadn't used in months heated up. Well, almost every muscle. His hands, his fucken hands, shook violently at his side and pain shot through him, as he barked orders at the Avenger coded name Hawkeye and an unknown woman. At first, the Avenger just glared at him, but a groan from Stark kicked him into gear. Their eyes dropped to Stark, a rag doll in their hands, and for a second, Stephen wondered if it was too late.

Before he could fully immerse into his old role, his hands gave him an excruciating reminder: he wasn't a surgeon anymore. A growl on his tongue, he bit his lip and choked back a cry. If it wasn't for Stark's A.I.s—what didn't this man have?-, Stephen would've been worthless. He didn't have to touch a thing, JARVIS—not sure why Stark called it VISION- and FRIDAY goldmines. Why hasn't Stark mass sold these things yet? The . obeyed his every request and activated every scan by verbal order, which took half the time it would've taken in a hospital. And yet, the scans were beautiful. No, not Stark's injuries. The quality. The holographic 3-D imagines of Stark's head were perfect. They were the clearest and cleanest images he had ever seen. Any hospital or research lab would die for this.

"How are you a doctor?" Hawkeye shot out; his arms folded across chest. The Archer hadn't let Strange out of his sight, watching him like a hawk. His eyes had dropped to his hands several times, observing the tremor in his scarred hands.

A nasty insult was on the tip of his tongue, but he pushed it aside. Used his pain to focus himself, he kept his eyes on Stark. "I have a few degrees to prove it."

Barton rolled his eyes. "Your hands say otherwise."

Strange's jaw locked, his hand twitching at his side. "I am a doctor, just not practicing." Nothing could settle his hands.

"Then I failed to see how you're helpful."

"Don't need hands to read scans." Stephan replied, bitterly. This was one thing he could do: his brain still functioning. "Cranial pressure." He pointed to the dark area on the hologram. "Not uncommon with a severe blow to the head." Strange was tempted to blast Barton with medical jargon, but he doubted Barton could understand. While that made him giddy, it wouldn't help the already tense situation. "We need to relieve the pressure." While he was impressed by Stark Tower medical wing, they needed someone with capable hands. They needed a hospital. "He needs a shunt put in."

"Not by put in by you."

"No, we need to transport him to a hospital. He-"

"No." Barton stated, coldly.

Strange's chest was tight. "I can understand not wanting to bring Mr. Stark to a hospital, but he needs a surgeon. He needs-"

Interjecting, JARVIS announced, "I have alerted Doctor Christine Palmer. She is on her way."

"Who?" Barton asked, startled. "Why are we allowing unvetted people into the tower?" His hand dropped to the gun on his hip. "We should be on lock down."

While a doctor with a working set of hands was needed, why did JARVIS call her? Did Stark not have an army of doctors on demand? Stark knows you were an item. His mind supplied. "Doctor P-"

"Doctor Stephen Strange is vetted." JARVIS spoke, his voice echoing softly.

This should surprise Stephen, but it did not. Stark's name had been popping up a lot. He hadn't met Stark prior to that visit in the hospital, yet he knew him. At first, he didn't put much thought into it, it just going to Stephen's ego: Stark knew him. Stephen swung that around like a Nobel prize, bringing it up in every conversion he could. He had rubbed it in Nick West's face every chance he got, relishing the exacerbated expression. After the accident and West shotty work, it morphed into an obsession when he learned it was Stark who found him after the accident. Was he tabs track on him?

Questions popped up in his head, worsening when he heard the chatter among the nurses. Stark had waited hours for Stephen to come out of surgery. While he only visited Stephen once, Stark did visit, standing in the doorway. He could up with a list of reasons why the Superhero knew his name, but it didn't explain that. Then Stark nastily sent Christine away, refusing to help or even listen, which struck Stephen as odd. This fact didn't help the anger that festered inside of him. Stark was interested in him, yet he was thrown away as soon as he became damage good. When Stephen forced himself into the tower, he did it with the express interest of telling him off. How dare Stark throw him away like trash? However, those thoughts went out the window when he saw the state Stark was in.

"And this Doctor Palmer?" Barton asked in disbelief.

"She has been vetted as well," FRIDAY answered. "And given Tower privileges by Mr. Stark." Both Strange and Barton were utterly surprised by this, but before anyone could question it, the A.I. added, "Doctor Palmer and Doctor West are currently on their way up."

"Who?" Barton hissed.

*O*O*

Christine Palmer was anything but happy when she stormed into the tower, Nick West a worried, lost puppy behind her. Though Stephen and Christine had dated and broke up a few times, he had only seen her this angry twice. Only once had this anger been directed at him, but every time he spotted the glare, she leveled the Earth. He had no doubt today's scowl was directed at him, and he would receive a serious tongue lashing as soon as he had him alone.

"Why the hell didn't you take him to hospital?" Christine hissed at Hill and Barton, as she prepared the medical bay.

"That would-" Hill started, though only getting two words out before Christine cut her off with an angry ranted while barking orders at the same time. "He could've died without immediate medical attention. I don't care if he's Iron Man!"

A gun on her hip, Maria Hill, arms across her chest, silently watched as Christine and Nick crossed back and forth in the room, setting up everything they would need. Stephen doesn't know these people from a hall in the wall, but from their stiff shoulders and their laser eyes, he knows Hill and Barton meant business. Whatever Stark was up to, it was serious, and if anyone hurt Stark, they would be dead. This was crystal clear. While Christine furiously waved her hand in air, she was not scared of them at all, while Nick was skittish.

Once she had the room set up, she pointed to Hill, Barton and him a stiffed finger and demanded, "Out!"

"Christine," Strange called out. "I can help."

Christine, her eyes cold, returned his pointed stare. "No. You will only be a distraction."

That struck Stephen right in the chest, and he didn't know how to respond, but it was hard to breathe.

"I'm not leaving," Hill spoke, firmly and resolutely. With stiff shoulders, she added, "Stark may have vetted you, but I haven't." Christine and Hill coldly stared at each other for a few seconds, though it felt like hours.

Whatever Christine saw in Hill's cold stare, she relented. "Fine, but everyone else out." After an odd staring contest between Hill and Barton, everyone filed out, leaving Christine and West to put in the shunt under Hill's watchful eyes.

*O*O*

As Barton stood with his back to Stark fully stocked Bar, he gave Stephen a chilly once over. "So your ex?" he inquired, though it was more of a statement.

Stephen had been in many stressful situations, had felt the cold shoulder of many men and women, but this was something else. Whatever mess Stark found him in, it was life and death, and he could feel every inch of it. "Yes." He stated simply.

Barton met his cold stare. "And your hands?"

"What about them?" Stephan asked, buried his hands into his worn jacket.

"How did it happen?"

He had expected this question since the moment Barton had laid eyes on him, but it still stole his breath away, him suddenly light headed. "Car accident." He articulated drily and simply. His tone was flat. While he did come to Stark Tower to speak to Stark, Stephen had no interest whatsoever in having this topic.

"A man of little words." Barton commented.

Stephen looked back in the direction of the medical bay. In his head, he could visualize Christine and Nick hovering in over top of an unconscious Stark. His chest painfully flared in jealousy. That should be him. He should be saving Stark, gaining a powerful ally, not fucken West. "I did not come here to speak with you."

Barton, his eyes calculating, turned and behind bar, his eyes on liquor lining the shelves. "And why did you come here? A hand out?" He paused. "Pun intended."

Stephen resisted rolling his eyes. Barton must've thought himself real funny. "Why does that matter to you?" Stephen asked, heated. "I'm here for Stark. That's all you need know"

His back to the Doctor, the Archer reached a bottle and poured himself a drink. While every so often, he peeped over his shoulder at Strange. "Wasn't aware Stark had friends?"

Stephen turned back and stared at Barton, his eyebrow raised. He didn't know Stark, but he knew that was untrue. War Machine was proof to that. Also, what was with his cold tones? Weren't they all friends? "Why don't you ask me what you want to know?" he demanded. He had no interest in playing 20 questions with an Avenger, no matter the chill in the air.

Barton took a small sip of whiskey and twisted around to face Stephen. "Why don't tell me how this Christine Palmer has tower access? Stark doesn't let just anyone into the tower. Isn't that right, JARVIS?"

"I do not understand what you are implying, Agent Barton." Stark's A.I. replied, which earned a dramatic eye roll from Barton.

"Of course, you don't."

Stephen had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking JARVIS the same question. The only person with answers was Stark. If he guessed, he would say it was his reputation that he had caught Stark's eyes. However, if he was only attracted to him for medical research, Stark would've ghosted him the second he had heard about his hand. Granted, the way Stark treated Christine should have been his answer, but yet, Christine has tower access. "It seems you will have to ask Stark, Agent."

Barton's icy eyes were taking him apart, studying every inch of Stephen's irritated expression. "And you know nothing, Doctor?" This tone dripped frustration.

"I have no answer for you," Stephen answered truthfully.

An uncomfortable silence fell in the room as Barton took another drink. His eyes dropped to Strange's pockets, his hands hidden from view. "You want Stark can help you with his hands." He stated, coldly, as he returned to his earlier point.

While it had been the truth, it rubbed him the wrong way. "Again, it's none of your concern.".

"I beg-" Barton started though cut off by the roar of a quinjet landing. It was a sight to see. Until now, Strange had only ever seen an Avenger's quinjet on the news, and it was something to see them march out like they were going to war, each with stoic but concern expressions. A shiver ran down Strange back, reality hitting like a close fist. While he swung for the sky, he never expected to be in this world.

The second the Avengers stepped into the building their fixated stairs were on him. Some were more intense than other, but they all drilled right through him. Instead of waiting for the evitable questions, he turned and spoke, "I will check on Doctor Palmer." He turned without waiting for a response. Yes, Christine would most likely kick him out, but he would deal with her than the heated stares of the Avengers.

"Who is the homeless guy?"

Stephen Strange just burned the judgmental rumbles of the Avengers.

*O*O*

"That's true, he hates you the most."

"Avengers, I'm going to show you the end of the world."

Tony groaned.

"Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time."

"Mr. Stark!" An unfamiliar voice yelled.

"Do me a favor. Try not to bring it to life."

"Artificial intelligence. You never even hesitated."

"If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose."

It was just too bright, too painful. Tony just wanted to sleep. Why couldn't he sleep? He just wanted to sleep. He let out a loud groan.

"When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you."

"I remember all of them."

The voice grew more concern. "Stark, you got to open your eyes."

"I can do this all day."

A pained cried exploded from Tony's lips, startling even him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His throat was sore, any movement painful.

"All that for a drop of blood."

"Spare his life... and I will give you the stone."

"We're in the end game now."

"I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark, please. Please, I don't wanna go. I don't wanna go..."

Tony's eyes popped open, though instantly blinded by a bright light a foot from his face. "W-" He started, the words getting lost on his tongue as everything spun.

"Mr. Stark," The voice from before called, the light coming from his hand.

The panic began to whirl in his stomach when Tony attempted to speak only to gag violently. His hand, though shaky, flew to his mouth; his heart leapt when he felt a tube running down his throat. His first instinct was to yank the tube out, but the second he got a finger around it, someone grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"Stark, calm down. It's a breathing tube. We'll take it out. Give us a moment."

No! Tony screamed in his head. He did not want to give them a moment. He wanted this out, but the voice of reason in his head warned him against it. Fighting that strong urge, he nodded and allowed the voice to remove the breathing tube. Go ahead. Tony wasn't sure what he expected when they pulled it from his throat, but there was a strong taste of acid in his mouth, and he was retching violently once more.

Once the tube was removed, the man from before stood in front of him. "It's okay. Let it out." A small bucket was placed in front of Tony. After a few seconds of him dry heaving, the voice ordered, "Look at me, Stark."

Tony, wobbly and tired, glanced up at the unknown man. A snark insult was on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. Instead, he just choked on his tongue.

"Don't try to speak, Stark." The flashlight was back in the man's hand, this time pointed down. "I want to do some tests. I want to access-"

"Maybe, we should give him a moment to breath," A new—female—voice called out. This voice wasn't as cold and unfamiliar than the previous one.

The man shots the woman a look. "You know the importance-"

The woman shots back, "I'm well aware, but give him a minute." She crossed to the bed, the features on her face clearing with each step. "Hey, Stark." She stated softly as she pulled up a stool. "I'm Doctor Christine Palmer. This is my colleague Doctor Nick West."

That didn't sound right. "Where is Doctor Helen Cho?" Tony closed his eyes, his breathing heavy.

"Who?" Doctor Palmer asked, her left eye blow going up.

"She's a world-renowned geneticist and the leader of the U-GIN Research Group. Not surprising she is on Tony's Stark's radar." West answered.

"W-where is she?" Tony asked panicky. His voice croaked. She was supposed to be here, right? Right? Wait, no. That wasn't right. Too early. She… She… at that moment, everything came flying back at him and slapped him like a train, the air in his lungs suddenly gone. He gasped, his world on fire. Palmer was no longer a stranger. Barnes was still a broken. Thanos rehanged over his head. The nightmare was back.

West's eyes focused on the heart monitor, Stark's heartbeat all over the place. "She isn't here, Mr. Stark, but don't worry. You're perfectly safe in our hands."

A random snort shot out from the door, both doctors turning toward it, but Tony only saw black. Anything beyond 4 feet was hidden in darkness.

After a quick glare directed to the door, Palmer turned her razor-sharp eyes back on Stark. "Stark," she called, her voice surprisingly gently. "Can you follow my finger?" She asked, moving her finger back and forth in front of Stark's eyes.

Tony wouldn't be who he was if he listened, so no, he didn't do what she asked. Instead, he pushed down, his arms shaking, in an attempt to get out of bed. Attempted was the key word as pain shot through his body and he fell back into bed with a thump. "I gotta…" he started, the words dying in his throat.

"Stark, you need to stay in bed," Nick ordered, pushing down gently on him. "You have bruising-"

Tony, even with the recent events flashing before his eyes, had no idea who this man was, but he was not needed. The pain that ran up his spine was all the information he needed. "No shit, Sherlock." He cursed riding the stinging pain coursing through his body. That's what two super soldiers will do to you. His brain froze. A familiar memory worked itself forward. Again. Granted, his injuries nowhere compared. His heart raced, thinking about Barnes' hand on his chest.

"S- Tony," Palmer spoke, switching to his first name. "I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" She started to count backward from ten. There was a pause between each number.

This was not the first time Tony was shown this technique, and while he thought it was stupid, he went along with it. His voice croaked with each number, his throat burning. It took several tries before his heart settle down. When it did, he asked, "Is anything broken?" There were a million questions floating in his head, but neither Palmer nor West had the answers he needed.

"No," Nick answered, his eyes darting to Christine. "We had to put in a shunt to drain the pressure in your skull. It was successful. Now, you need to rest."

To their face, Tony agreed, settling down in bed, but having never listened to doctors before, he wasn't going to listen now. No, he would just wait until they turn their back. Considering these Doctors were not trained in the way of Tony Stark, they didn't realize it was a mistake to leave him alone to his vices.

*O*O*

Tony wasn't spotted until he was the doors to elevator was half way closed. If it didn't hurt to laugh, he would've when he spotted the twitch in Palmer's left eye and West's comically large eyes. Unfortunately for Tony, they recovered quickly and chased after him, slipping through the closing doors just in time. Tony blinked. How the hell did that happen? His elevators door did not close that slow… unless JARVIS wanted them to. Fucken JARVIS. While he could never forget about him, he totally forgot about how mischievous the AI could be. No doubt this was his doing.

If it wasn't for the pain shooting though his body with each step and his head ringing, he would be angry at the AI, but he would probably need one of them when he eventually landed on his face. With stern expressions, Nick West and Christine Palmer trailed behind him as he exited the elevator, harshly whispering at him at to get back to bed, but he had been sleeping along enough. According to FRIDAY, he was out for 19 hours, which was 19 hours too long. There was no telling what three unchecked Winter Soldiers in the world would do, and that though made Tony's knees week. He waivered for a second, his head in the sky.

Tony closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but the world did not want to stop spinning. It-"Tony," Steven Rogers shouted, his eyes wide. Breaking from a conversion with Maria Hill, he was the first to notice the wibbly Stark, and worry etched on his face, he crossed the room in three large steps.

The sound of his name startled Tony, and his feet slipped out from beneath them, his knees blending like butter beneath him. If it wasn't for West rushing forward his hands out, Tony would've landed face into the ground. "I got it." He hissed, though the room still spun.

"What is he doing out of bed?" A woman asked, directing this question to the doctors. After a delay, Tony's mind supplied a name: Ayo. "You need to get into bed." She didn't wait for a response as she marched across the room and took Tony by the other arm. There was no breaking her firm grip.

Tony attempted to break free from her. Yes, attempted as he failed, and he just ended up hitting himself in the face, which he hoped no one noticed "No, just sit me down." Tony huffed out and directed her to the sofa. Once more, he almost tripped over his own feet, only kept up by the combined efforts of West and Ayo. As they carefully helped him to the sofa, their huffed whispers above his head did not escape him.

"We should get you back to bed."

It was Rogers again, his voice too soft and smooth for Tony's likening. He wanted to rip his own ears out. "No."

Rogers pointed his sharp stare at Tony, studying the horrible wobble in his steps for a minute, before he turned his attention to Palmer. "How is he?"

Palmer huffed, her eyes on the back of Tony's head. "We would like to perform more tests, but for now, he appears to have all of his mental faculties." She paused as Tony's eyes drooped. "I will note confusion is common."

"He really shouldn't be up." Nick shot out, blending down to eye level with him.

"That isn't surprising." A fond smile stretched across on Rogers' face. It was both odd and unsettling. "Isn't that right, Shellhead?" He kneed down in front of Tony, their eyes meeting.

Tony, his brain freezing, blinked, gaping at Captain America. When the fuck did they get to the nickname stage? He was pretty sure they were nowhere near this stage, especially considering he had been keeping the super soldier at arm's length. Shit, Tony was this close from throwing Steve out the window. Tony could feel Ayo tense up next to him. She, her expression cold, stared at Rogers, and Tony couldn't help if she was pondering that same thing.

Maria Hill, her presence—even if he had noticed her prior- surprised him, crossed into view. She spoke, words passing over her lips, but Tony didn't hear one single word. Even the spoken word between the Avengers and the two Doctors disappeared, his brain in a heavy fog. At this point, he realized he should have stayed in bed.

"I believe this is all too much for Mr. Stark." The voice called from the door.

Tony's head, all too fast, whipped around—his neck cracked-, his eyes snapping to the man at the door. Though his eyes were twitching and his forehead pulsing, he could still recognize Stephen Strange, worn clothes or not. The air turned ice cold and his lungs constricted painfully. Breathing became excruciating, and it wasn't long before he started to hyperventilate, his lungs struggling to expand. His throat constricted; the room spun like a tornado. His every fear was flip on itself, and space and time begun to squeeze tight on his heart. He was doing to die.

"He's having a panic attack." Someone spoke.

Suddenly, there was a firm but soft hand on Tony's knee and a gentle feminine voice calling out to him. "Stark, focus on my voice. Breathe with me."

The Ancient One was going to kill him. The entire universe was going to explode. Thanos was coming. Ash would once more fill the air, people choking on their loved ones. Their fingers would be grabbing at the air in an attempt to catch their loved ones. Heartbeat unmeasured, it took everything in him not to scream.

"Tony."

Everything went black in his panic.

*O*O*

Tony, still shaky, was back in the medical bay when he woke up next, the room empty besides the figure in the chair. After the previous day events hit him, he, trembling, pushed himself up onto his elbows to get a better angle. "Rhodey," he uttered when he noticed his best friend in the chair. His voice cracked.

Said man's head popped, his eyes sluggish and his uniform disheveled from being slept in. "Tones." He voiced, relieved. His uniform jacket hung over the back of the chair, his hair a mess. In less times it took Tony to think, Rhodes leapt to his feet and crossed to his bedside, pulling him into a hug. He released his best friend but didn't go far. "Can you tell me where you are?"

Where am I? Tony pondered as it took him a second to comprehend the question, his head still pounding as he glanced around the room. "The tower," he croaked, his throat on his fire.

Rhodes nodded, mostly to himself. "You gave us quite a scare." While his eyes were glued to Tony's face, it didn't stop him from running his hands up and down his best friend's body. "Do you recall what happened?"

Tony blinked, just blinked, his brain going hire wire. Beyond his goal to stop Thanos, his recent memories were gone, a black pit. With Rhodey assisting him, Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position, his senses on fire. He, his lungs hot, squeezed his eyes closed and forced himself to think. At first, everything was blank, only Thanos' face glaring at hm, but when he pushed- truly pushed, he felt a sharp pain to base of his skull like a knife.

When Tony didn't answer, Rhodey reached forward and squeezed Tony's wrist. "Tony."

His forehead pulsating, Tony pushed at the blank wall in his head, though he wished he hadn't, as he was immediate hit by an intense wave of pain, pain so overwhelming that he almost passed. Just as reality slip from him, it came flooding back. He got whiplash from it. From one direction, he was slammed by a monster headache, and from another, his memories violently assaulted him. He dried heaved.

"Tony!" Rhodey yelled at his stilled friend.

Winter soldiers… Shit

Ass kicking… Double Shit.

Brain trauma… triple shit.

Stephen Fucken Strange… quadruple shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Tony didn't have enough shits to describe how much of a shit show this had turned into. The heart monitor to his left started to beep loudly as Tony's heart soared. Besides the fact that the Ancient One was going to kill him, did the future get fucked? Did it all get fucked?

"Tony."

Thanos was once more hovering over him, his hand excruciatingly gripping his head. A thick layer of sweat coated his body, but all he felt was coldness. Thanos' cold, cruel eyed drilled into, a callous smile gracing his lips. Thanos hissed his name as he brought down the-

"Tony. Breathe. You got to breathe."

Rhodey's voice snapped him back and the tower blinked back into existence. "Rhodey."

"Where did you go?"

While Rhodey knew everything—well mostly anything-, Tony didn't have it in him to air it out. The flashback was too real, too painful. He wanted—needed to change the subject. "JARVIS," he called out, his breathing uneven.

"Sir," The AI called out, a hint of worry in his computerized voice.

A part of him didn't want to ask this question, too scared to know the answer. Stephen Strange had to become a wizard, had to, and in order for that to happen, he had to go to Hogwarts. Had to learn from Dumbledore. While Tony didn't know the current state of Strange's hands, they were in better condition than they were in the last timeline, but without a thoroughly scan, he wouldn't know if it was medically possible to regain full mobility. "Where is Doctor Strange?" he asked, while he ignored the large hiccup that ripped through his body.

"Doctor Strange left with Doctor Palmer." JARVIS answered.

Rhodey snorted. "More like she dragged him out, and I mean dragged out."

Why would Strange show up in the first place? Okay, Tony could guess as his conversion with Palmer was fresh in his head. "I wish I could have seen that."

"You can, Boss," FRIDAY interjected. "It is recorded."

Tony nodded, saving that nugget for later when he wasn't so raw and worried.

"However, before we get off topic, Doctor West-"

"He's still here?"

Rhodes gave Tony a sharp look. "Yes. He wants to check you over one last time." He paused, his eye twitching. "He, as long with both Strange and Palmer, wanted to move you to a hospital for observation."

Did Tony want to be in a hospital? No, but it made sense. "Why didn't you?"

"Considering you were attacked by two super soldiers, no one wants you out of sight, especially in a civilian population. They targeted you once, no doubt they will do it again. While I don't always agree with them," Rhodey gestured to the door, "I agree on this one. Even Ayo and Natasha are in agreement, which is scary." Rhodey smiled, chuckling to himself.

Tony sucked in the breath he was holding, still feeling like someone was jackhammering his head. "Any news on the super-"

A sharp intake of air. "Tones-" Rhodey cut off himself and softened his harsh tones. "You need to rest and not worry about that. You're safe here."

That wasn't what concerned him. His safety was the last thing on his mind. Clearly, Rhodey didn't know him good enough, which stung. "Honey Bear," he smiled, or he attempted to. A dry cough erupted from his throat.

"I got you," Rhodey replied, pushing him forward and lightly slapping him on his back. "And don't Honey Bear me. It-"

A rattling at door interrupted them. "How are you doing, Mr. Stark?"

Tony followed the voice, his eyes drilling into the man. While Tony didn't know his name, he recognized his face from the hospital, and he could put two and two together. "Doctor West, I presume."

Said man nodded and crossed to the foot of Tony's bed. "Yes, how are doing today? Better than before?"

Why did that feel like a loaded question? "Yes," Tony answered, barely recalling the previous day. It was all lost in a haze, the only thing he remembered was fucken Stephen Strange.

"I would like to perform a checkup If that's okay with you?" West might've asked it as a question, but it wasn't.

"Can I say no?" Tony sighed, exhaustion hitting him.

Rhodey glared. "No."

As his best friend hovered, Tony, with some playful protest, allowed West to examine him. Having been injured countless times, he knew the drill, but Tony would rather be anywhere but here. Well, not anywhere. There was one place specifically, or rather, one person in particular Tony wanted to see: the Ancient One. She wasn't always clear, vague just to be vague, but she would tell him if he fucked up the timeline, and that was the only thing he wanted to know. He couldn't settle until he heard the universe was going to be okay.

*O*O*

West, who brought up Strange a twice —Tony ignored those probing comments-, cleared him, but he stressed strict bed rest for the next two weeks. Oh, how little did West know about Tony Stark? However, he did leave detailed notes with FRIDAY and JARVIS, the man nerding out over the AIs, and Tony had no doubt they would follow those instructions to the tee. To make matter worse, the AIs relayed this to the rest of the Avengers.

"Ever heard of the HIPAA? You know the privacy rule?" Tony yelled at the ceiling. He paused, his eyes going large. "Why am I yelling at the ceiling?" He had always poked fun at people for yelling at his ceiling as JARVIS and FRIDAY were not in the ceiling damn it, and yet, here he was.

"Yes, why are yelling at the ceiling?" a voice called from the door. "I do recall many the many eye rolls when we did it."

As Tony looked to the door, he groaned when he spotted Natasha in the doorway. The super spy, who always looked well rested, had a firm, cold mask on her face, but something else lingered beneath the surface. Tony wasn't sure what. "Any news on the Winter Soldiers?"

Natasha loudly sighed, as she dramatically rolled her eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked, ignoring his question.

It didn't get pass him that she avoided the question. "Winter soldier," he stressed. A pain shot through his body as he kicked his feet over the edge.

"Tony," she spoke, a gentle warning in her voice as she crossed to his side. "You need to rest. Doctor West have been very clear at this, and everyone will be making sure you follow his instructions, and I mean everyone." Her hands hovered over his skin, the twitch in her eye when he jerked away.

No matter how much time have passed, Tony could never be okay with people touching him, excluding Rhodey… Okay that sounded dirty, but he didn't mean it like that. Just the idea of Natasha touching him send tremors down his back. While his dislike of her softened, they weren't there yet. "Since when do I listen to doctors?"

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "This time is different. You had a-"

"Listen." Tony interrupted. "I'm Iron Man. Juries come with the job description." He had lost count to how injuries he received on the job. He also stopped counting how often he almost died. Now, that was depressing. "Now, tell me about the winter Soldiers."

"Tell me about Stephen Strange."

His jaw locking, the pain nestled at the back of his skull. "The surgeon with the crippled hands?" While Strange was barely an acquaintance—besides that odd time Strange sat at his bedside and flirted (flirted?)-, calling him crippled in anyway felt wrong.

Natasha rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm tired of being treated as an idiot, Stark. I haven't forgot you picked Strange over Pepper." Tony's eye twitch "Plus, there's the fact that JARVIS asked Doctor Palmer to escort him out."

Tony's brain froze for a moment. Rhodey did mention Palmer dragged Strange out, but he had implied that it was Christine who forced Strange out. "What?"

"I did, Sir." JARVIS pipped up. "I was under the impression that you did not want Doctor Strange in the tower; therefore, I asked him to leave. Unfortunately, he had no desire to leave, not without speaking to you first."

"But then Steve gave him the look. You know the look." Natasha added, a small smile on her lips. "Doctor Palmer vigorously agreed after that."

Tony wanted to cover his head with a pillow and scream, but he couldn't. "Ask me your questions"

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall. "So, Strange. Why is he important?" She paused. "I researched him after your reaction with Sitwell. Besides Strange's medical research, do you know why Hydra targeted him?"

"Wasn't Hydra just targeting people they knew they couldn't control?"

Natasha glanced after him over the shoulder. "Yea, but Sitwell didn't know their names."

At some point, Tony knew he would have to tell them, have to provide some answers. To be a team, he had to let them in. "Strange is—was a neurosurgeon." He corrected himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He was working on some high-profile experimentational nerve regeneration projects."

"Like what?"

"Does it matter?" Tony asked, aggravated. "I can't explain which of his projects caught Hydra's attention. Just that it did." His nerved were on fire. Honestly, unless Hydra could see the future like the Ancient One, that had to have been the reason. Hydra couldn't have possibly predicted that Strange would become a Wizard.

"And yours? What caught yours"

"That…" Tony took a deep breath. He didn't want to admit this, even if it was a lie. "That was before his hands. Before his…" He waved his hand in the air as he drifted off.

"The car accident." Natasha supplied as she turned him, her eyes drilling into him.

Tony felt tainted. He couldn't even imagine what was going through Strange's head, to have every door slammed on him. "No matter how many doctors he sees he gets the same answer, the same rejection. There're surgencies, but-"

"They are beyond repair." She nodded.

"Probably could gain some mobility back, but operating is off the table. For Strange, that's everything." Tony could hack Strange's medical file to figure out the extent of the damage, but with his heart in a never ending tail spin, he needed distance between them.

Natasha hummed. "And he came here looking for money."

"Doesn't everyone?" Tony shrugged. He didn't mean to sound so dejected, but even he was taken back by his disheartening tones. It took a second to recollect his thoughts. "I had already told him no prior via Doctor Palmer. I supposed he thought I would change my answer if he got me face to face. While I hate to admit this, some things are beyond me, and no amount of money will fix that. It's better he learns that now."

"While I believe denial benefits no one, I find it hard to believe you would discard Strange, your…pet, so easily." Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "The Stark I know doesn't give up on people even if his reputation says otherwise, especially ones he's eyeballing."

Pet? "I'm not eyeballing him!" Tony physically bit down on his tongue to stop the insults from rolling off his tongue, but enough was enough. He was sick of this anger, this defensiveness. While it would take time, he was going to do it. "Just some hard love."

"Would you give Rhodes this hard love?

Tony's entire body went stiff, his jaw locking. That was different. Rhodey was different in every way. "His tough love is being my friend." He wanted to add that he didn't know Strange. Okay, he knew Strange, but they weren't anything. Definitely not friends. Definitely not a person Tony would give money to.

Natasha rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Can't argue with you."

"I need some rest." Tony announced loudly, ignoring Natasha's inquisitive expression. While she had more to ask, he was injured, and there was no fighting when that card was pulled. Oh, the joys of being injured. Offending parties left with their tails between their legs, which exactly what Natasha did. Tony could laugh if he wasn't hurting.

Tony Stark, a master actor, did not fall asleep after Natasha left and laid in bed staring at the ceiling, only pretending to sleep when people checked on him. Eventually, he just closed his eyes and wished for sleep. He could feel himself start to drift until he heard a familiar sizzle behind him. His entire being on fire, he bolted up into a sitting position, and in the dimmed lights, his eyes took a few seconds to register the wizard portal behind him.

"You coming, Mr. Stark?" came a familiar voice.

Blinking, Tony's vision cleared, and the New York Sanctum was revealed through the sizzling cycle. A foot into a hole stood the Ancient One, a smile on her face. "What?" he uttered, voice cracking.

"You coming?" She repeated, as she tilted her head to the side. "Or did you not want to talk?"

Reality slapped Tony like an open fist, and he finally found his words. "Yes." He answered, louder than he intended. His headache and everything else forgotten. He didn't bother asking how she knew he wanted to talk. He was on his feet and through the portal before JARVIS or FRIDAY could stop him.

Let me know what you think.