She was standing at a high table, her auburn hair catching the light as she leaned forward slightly, laughing at something one of her companions had said. She was like he remembered her, maybe with fewer wrinkles around the eyes, but the important things were the same—her posture was still poised, her smile still soft and genuine. For a moment, Stephen froze, the air seeming to drain from the room as memories surged to the forefront of his mind.
Late nights in the ER. The quiet rhythm of their conversations. The warmth of her hand on his as she laughed at one of his dry quips; Christine laughing at his dry, sarcastic jokes, even when they weren't all that funny; Christine scolding him when his ego outpaced his humanity. It had been years—lifetimes, even—since he'd thought of her like this. Since he'd allowed himself to feel the weight of what he'd lost when he walked away from that life.
Tony noticed Stephen's pause, his sharp instincts catching the subtle shift in his companion's demeanor. He followed Stephen's line of sight and smirked when he saw the group Stephen was staring at.
"What's got you looking so intense, Steph?" Tony asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Stephen blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. "Nothing," he said quickly, too quickly. He turned his head away, as if breaking eye contact with Christine might somehow erase the moment. "We need to leave."
Tony raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Uh-huh. Sure. Nothing to do with her, I take it?"
"Anthony," Stephen said sharply, his voice low. "We need to leave. Now."
But Tony didn't move. If anything, he seemed more interested, his gaze flitting back to the group near the high table. "Wait, wait, hold on. You know her, don't you? Who is she?"
Stephen sighed, his jaw tightening. He'd forgotten how insufferably persistent Tony could be.
"Just… an old colleague," Stephen muttered, already stepping toward the exit.
Pepper, who had been silently observing the exchange, glanced between Tony and Stephen with a raised eyebrow. "That didn't look like the way you'd look at an old colleague," she pointed out, her tone both curious and teasing.
Stephen froze mid-step, a faint color rising to his cheeks. He turned back to them, exhaling sharply. "She was… an old girlfriend," he admitted reluctantly, his voice quiet but firm.
Tony blinked, the teasing smirk on his face faltering for a moment. "Seriously? You had a girlfriend?"
Stephen glared at him, the faint blush on his face deepening. "Don't sound so surprised."
"Hey, no judgment," Tony said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "It's just hard to picture you as the serious relationship type. You know, with all the 'I'm too important to be emotionally available' vibes you've got going on."
"And considering how egotistical you claim you used to be." Pepper stifled a laugh behind her hand, though her gaze remained curious. "So what happened?"
Stephen sighed again, his shoulders stiffening. "Let's just say that the same ego that drove me to be the best surgeon in my field didn't exactly make me the best partner, but, yeah, she was my first serious relationship," he said, his tone clipped as if saying it aloud physically pained him.
Tony tilted his head, his smirk returning—though there was something sharper in his expression now. "First serious relationship, huh? So what, you broke her heart?"
Stephen's lips pressed into a thin line, his silence more telling than any answer.
Pepper stepped in gently, her voice softer. "And now she's here, and you don't want her to see you?"
"It's not that simple," Stephen replied, his tone edged with frustration. He glanced back toward the high table where Christine still stood, oblivious to his presence. "The man she knew is gone—dead, both figuratively and literally. What am I supposed to say to her? That I'm some alternate version of the man she loved? Oh, and that I'm a sorcerer now, by the way."
Tony's gaze lingered on Stephen, his smirk fading as a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. "Sounds like you're just scared."
Stephen bristled, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not scared."
"Then why are we leaving?" Tony asked, taking a step closer, his voice quieter now but no less pointed. "You said you've faced down gods and monsters, Steph. But a conversation with your ex? That's where you draw the line?"
Stephen hesitated, his jaw clenching as he struggled to find the words.
Pepper watched the exchange with a faint frown, her sharp eyes darting between them. Something unspoken was hanging in the air, but she wasn't sure either man was ready to name it.
Finally, Stephen exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. "It's not just her. It's everything she represents. That life… I left it behind for a reason."
"Yeah, well," Tony said, his grin returning—though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seems like the past doesn't agree with you."
Stephen turned away, his gaze fixed on the exit. "Let's just go."
For a moment, Tony didn't move. He glanced back toward Christine, who was still laughing at something her companion had said. There was a flicker of something—jealousy? Annoyance?—in his chest, but he shoved it down, masking it with his usual bravado.
"Alright, Strange," Tony said finally, his voice light but tinged with something sharper. "Your call."
As they turned to leave, Pepper glanced at Tony out of the corner of her eye, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Tony shrugged, his gaze forward. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Pepper didn't press, but her smile lingered.
Behind them, Christine Palmer remained unaware of the storm she'd unintentionally stirred, her laughter fading into the background as Stephen and Tony disappeared into the crowd.
Before Stephen could retort, Pepper placed a hand on his arm. "Let's just step away for now," she suggested gently. "You don't have to figure this out tonight."
Stephen nodded stiffly, grateful for the out. "Agreed."
But as they turned to leave, fate had other plans.
Before Stephen could respond, he moved to usher them away from the bar, but as fate would have it, they didn't get far.
"Wow. Tony Stark," came a familiar voice, cutting through the crowd like a knife.
Tony froze mid-step, his smile slipping into a grimace as Christine Everhart approached them, her gaze sharp and unrelenting.
"Oh, hey," Tony said, his voice feigning casualness.
Christine tilted her head, her gaze sharp as she studied the trio. "I was wondering when you'd show up again. You've got a lot of nerve, Stark."
Tony sighed, his grin returning but with significantly less enthusiasm. "Well, Carrie—"
"Christine," she corrected, her tone clipped.
"Right," Tony said, unfazed.
Christine crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can I at least get a reaction from you?"
Tony's smirk faltered slightly. "Panic. I'd say panic is my reaction."
Stephen, watching from a step behind Tony, arched an eyebrow. "Who is she?" he muttered to Pepper.
"Reporter," Pepper whispered back. "It's… a long story."
Christine, oblivious to their exchange, pressed on. "I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity."
Tony's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Christine pulled out a folder, flipping it open to reveal a series of photos. "It's a town called Gulmira. Heard of it?"
Stephen's sharp eyes immediately darted to the photos. They showed devastation—crumbling buildings, injured civilians, and weaponry bearing the unmistakable Stark Industries logo.
"When were these taken?" Tony asked, his tone suddenly serious.
"Yesterday," Christine replied, her voice cold.
Tony's jaw tightened. "I didn't approve any shipment."
"Well, your company did," Christine shot back.
Tony exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "I'm not my company."
Stephen watched the exchange intently, his mind racing. The devastation in Gulmira was too familiar—it mirrored the chaos he'd seen in his temporal glimpses of Tony's future.
He stepped closer to Tony, his voice low. "We need to talk about this later."
Tony glanced at him, his expression tense but grateful. "Yeah. We will."
Christine, sensing she wouldn't get anything more from Tony tonight, snapped her folder shut. "Enjoy the party," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm, before turning and walking away.
As she disappeared into the crowd, Tony let out a gust of air, running a hand through his hair. His mood had soured, his usual cocky grin replaced with a hard, focused expression. Stephen stayed close, his sharp eyes flicking between Tony and their surroundings, already sensing the billionaire's next move.
Tony was like a storm when he was angry—electric, unpredictable, and impossible to stop.
"Where's Obadiah?" Tony muttered, scanning the room with a clenched jaw.
Pepper glanced at him nervously. "Tony, maybe this isn't the time—"
But before she could finish, Obadiah Stane appeared, his usual smile plastered across his face. He was holding a glass of wine, looking as relaxed as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"Tony!" Obadiah called out, spreading his arms wide. "There you are! Been looking all over for you."
"Obie," Tony said, his tone tight as he strode forward, holding up Christine Everhart's photos like a shield. "Have you seen these pictures? What's going on in Gulmira?"
Obadiah's smile faltered for the briefest moment before he covered it with a hearty chuckle, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Tony, Tony," he said, shaking his head like a patient parent scolding a child. "You can't afford to be this naïve."
Tony pulled back slightly, his gaze narrowing. "Naïve? You know what? I was naïve before. Back when they told me, 'Here's the line. We don't cross it. This is how we do business.' I believed them. I believed you."
"Tony—"
"But if we're double-dealing under the table," Tony continued, his voice rising, "if we're selling weapons to terrorists, Obie—are we?"
Stephen stepped forward slightly, his presence subtle but deliberate. He didn't say anything, but his sharp gaze fixed on Obadiah, watching his every move.
Obadiah sighed heavily, his expression shifting to one of forced patience. "Tony, let's not do this here. Not in front of all these people."
"Why not?" Tony snapped, waving the photos in the air. "Let's take a picture, huh? Come on, Obie. Let's smile for the cameras. Maybe they'll help us figure out what the hell's going on!"
At that moment, a nearby reporter called out, camera in hand. "Mr. Stark! A picture, please?"
Obadiah's smile returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Picture time!" he said, his voice unnervingly cheerful. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder, guiding him toward the reporter. "Come on, Tony. Smile for the nice people."
Stephen stayed back, his sharp blue eyes locked on Obadiah. There was something off about him tonight—something Stephen couldn't quite place. His tone, his body language… it was all too polished, too rehearsed.
As the camera flashed, Tony's expression remained stony, his jaw clenched tight.
When the reporter stepped away, Tony turned to Obadiah, his voice low and dangerous. "Who do you think locked me out, huh? Who do you think filed the injunction against me?"
For the first time, Obadiah's mask slipped, his genial expression hardening. "I was the one who filed the injunction against you," he admitted, his voice sharp. "It was the only way I could protect you."
"Protect me?" Tony repeated, his voice rising in disbelief.
"Yes, protect you!" Obadiah snapped, stepping closer. "You've been reckless, Tony. Erratic. You show up at board meetings spouting nonsense about shutting down weapons manufacturing, and now you're dragging the company through the mud with this new 'responsibility' kick." He took a deep breath, forcing his tone to soften. "The board needed assurance that Stark Industries wouldn't crumble under your new direction."
Stephen, who had been watching silently, finally spoke, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "So you betrayed him to save him? Interesting logic."
Obadiah's eyes darted to Stephen, his expression darkening. "And who exactly are you to be weighing in on this?"
Stephen stepped forward, his posture calm but commanding. "Someone who sees through your lies."
Tony glanced at Stephen, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Obadiah. "This wasn't about protecting me, was it? This was about keeping control. About keeping things your way."
Obadiah spread his hands, his genial smile returning like a mask. "Tony, you've always been the face of this company, the genius behind the brand. But you've never understood the business side. That's where I come in. That's where I've always come in."
Tony's jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. "You don't get to make decisions for me, Obie. Not anymore."
Obadiah chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "We'll see about that."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Tony and Stephen standing in the middle of the room.
As the crowd moved around them, Tony stood frozen, his mind racing.
Stephen stepped closer, his voice quiet. "You okay?"
Tony let out a bitter laugh. "Define 'okay.'"
Stephen tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening. "He's hiding something. You know that, don't you?"
Tony nodded slowly, his expression hardening. "Oh, I know. And I'm going to find out what it is."
Stephen's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he stepped back. "Just… don't do anything reckless. At least not without backup."
Tony smirked faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You offering?"
Stephen's lips quirked in a faint smile. "I suppose someone has to keep you from getting yourself killed."
Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're a real piece of work, Strange."
"So are you, Anthony," Stephen replied, his tone dry but warm.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily between them. Then Tony straightened, his usual confidence returning.
"Come on," he said, clapping a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Let's get out of here. I've got work to do."
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