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May 26th -2009
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As the morning sun stretched on and the house settled into an uneasy quiet, Stephen perched on the windowsill in his cat form, gazing out at the vast expanse of Malibu's oceanfront. The sound of the waves crashing below provided a stark contrast to the turmoil within his mind. The events of the past few weeks played over and over in his thoughts: his interference in Tony's escape from the Ten Rings, saving him again from Obadiah's betrayal, helping with the suit, and most recently, aiding in the battle against the Iron Monger.
He sighed softly, the familiar weight of responsibility settling heavily on his small frame. He was an outsider here, both to this universe and to its people. By all accounts, he had no reason to involve himself in its affairs. He wasn't the Sorcerer Supreme here. He wasn't even supposed to be part of this world. And yet… he couldn't stop himself from interfering. He'd saved Tony time and time again, watched over him, guided him.
"Why?" Stephen muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Why can't I just stay out of it?"
The answer, of course, was clear, even if he didn't want to admit it. He cared. For all his attempts to remain distant, to be the dispassionate observer, Stephen had found himself drawn to this world's struggles. And Tony—brilliant, reckless, infuriating Tony—had somehow become the center of it all.
Stephen's tail flicked as he turned his gaze inward. Could he really remain indifferent to the dangers that were about to occur on Earth? Could he stand back and watch as chaos unfolded, knowing that he had the power to make a difference?
He didn't think so.
And it wasn't just about Tony. It was about responsibility. About taking accountability for his actions, for his interference in this timeline. He'd been running from the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme, telling himself that he wasn't ready, that it wasn't his place. But maybe it wasn't about being ready. Maybe it was about stepping up when the world needed him, even if he didn't feel worthy of the role.
"I can't keep hiding," Stephen murmured, his eyes narrowing. "I have to do something."
The thought settled heavily in his mind, but there was a strange sense of resolve that came with it. He wasn't ready to take the mantle—not yet. But he could still help. A few missions. A few acts of protection. Even if it led him to interact with people he once knew, people who belonged to a version of his life that no longer existed.
Stephen turned his gaze to Tony, who was sprawled out on the couch, tinkering idly with some scraps of metal and wires. The glow from the arc reactor in his chest illuminated his face, highlighting the faint lines of exhaustion and determination. Stephen hopped down from the windowsill and padded over to him, his small paws silent on the floor.
"Tony," Stephen said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his decision.
Tony glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "You're calling me Tony. This must be serious."
Stephen sighed, leaping onto the armrest of the couch. "I've been thinking… about my place in all of this. About my involvement."
Tony set down the piece of metal he was holding, his expression growing serious. "Go on."
"I can't remain indifferent to what's happening here," Stephen admitted. "The dangers that are coming to this world… I know too much to simply stand by. I've already interfered more than I should have, and it's clear I can't stop myself from doing so."
Tony leaned back, studying him carefully. "So, what are you saying? You're not sticking around?"
"Not exactly," Stephen replied. "I'm going to the New York Sanctum for a while. I need to return the books the Ancient One lent me, and… I want to speak with her."
Tony frowned. "You're leaving?"
"For a day, maybe less," Stephen said firmly. "I need to take some responsibility for myself, Anthony. I've been avoiding the sorcerers here, avoiding the people I once knew. It's time I stopped running."
Tony was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smirked faintly. "Well, I think I'm rubbing off on you too much."
Stephen huffed, his tail flicking in mild irritation. "Don't flatter yourself. This is a decision I came to on my own."
"Sure it is," Tony said, his smirk widening. "But hey, if you're going to New York, does that mean I get to keep the house to myself? Or are you going to leave some magical wards to make sure I don't blow the place up?"
Stephen rolled his eyes. "I'll be back before you have a chance to ruin anything. Just try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone."
Tony's expression softened slightly, and he reached out to scratch behind Stephen's ears. "You're really worried about me, huh?"
Stephen swatted his hand away with a paw, though his tone was gentle. "Of course I am. Someone has to be."
Tony chuckled, leaning back on the couch. "Well, don't take too long in New York. I might just miss you."
Stephen didn't respond, but the faintest hint of a smile crossed his feline face. For all their banter, for all their differences, there was an understanding between them—a connection that neither of them fully acknowledged but couldn't deny.
"I'll prepare lunch first or you will die of starvation. Or worse, order takeout."
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Tony was sitting at the kitchen counter after they finished eating, fiddling with what appeared to be two sleek, slim phones he brought from who knows where. Stephen, perched on the counter in his human form for once, sipped his tea as he watched him work. The soft glow of the arc reactor illuminated Tony's face as he inspected the devices with meticulous care.
Finally, Tony set the phones down, sliding one toward Stephen. "So, your cult… does it have Wi-Fi, or are you still using owls to send messages?"
Stephen raised an eyebrow over the rim of his cup, his tone dry. "Yes, Anthony, we have Wi-Fi. We're not cavemen."
Tony grinned. "Good, because I made you this. Custom Stark tech phone. Untraceable, encrypted, and—" he tapped the screen dramatically, "—has direct access to JARVIS. You know, in case you get bored in your magical fortress and need to hear my voice. Or JARVIS'."
Stephen set his cup down with a sigh, picking up the phone and turning it over in his hands. It was impossibly lightweight, sleek, and, as expected, utterly state-of-the-art. "I assume this is so you can pester me at all hours."
Tony's grin widened. "Exactly. It's also got a tracker linked to JARVIS. Just in case you disappear into one of your magical portals and forget where you came from."
Stephen shook his head, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, here you are," Tony quipped, sliding the second phone toward Stephen. "This one's for Yinsen. Since you're heading to New York and lives near, I figured you could play courier and deliver it to him. Consider it a Stark Industries gift for putting up with me."
Stephen rolled his eyes but picked up the second phone. "You do realize I'm not your personal delivery service, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, but you want to see Yinsen anyway, don't you? Don't pretend you're not looking forward to his calming presence. The guy's a saint compared to me."
Stephen paused, the faintest trace of fondness flickering across his expression. "I do want to speak with him. I owe him that much."
Tony leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied Stephen. "See? You're already halfway to admitting you like my ideas."
"I wouldn't go that far," Stephen retorted, slipping both phones into his pocket. "But I'll deliver them. Just this once."
Tony's grin turned smug as he leaned closer. "You're going soft on me, Strange. What's next? You bake me cookies before you leave?"
Stephen huffed, standing up from the counter. "Don't push your luck, Anthony."
They bickered for a few more moments, trading barbs like they always did, but there was an underlying ease to it, a rhythm they'd fallen into without realizing. It wasn't until the banter faded into a comfortable silence that Tony's expression softened slightly, his voice losing its usual teasing edge.
"You know," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the counter, "I'm going to miss you. Just a little."
Stephen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. He met Tony's gaze, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The arc reactor cast a faint blue glow between them, highlighting the charged moment that stretched just a bit too long.
Stephen cleared his throat, deflecting the intensity with practiced ease. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, Anthony. Try not to destroy the mansion while I'm gone."
Tony smirked, though his eyes lingered on Stephen's face a moment longer than necessary. "No promises, but I'll try to keep it standing. For you."
Stephen rolled his eyes, but there was a faint warmth in his expression as he stepped away, cloak billowing softly behind him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
As he opened a portal to Queens where Yinsen lived, Tony watched him go, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes. When the swirling golden light disappeared, leaving the kitchen empty save for the hum of the arc reactor, Tony let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
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The New York streets bustled with life as Stephen walked through them, the red jacket—his cloak in disguise—the only spot of color in his otherwise black outfit. The phone Tony had given him rested in his pocket, but he hadn't used it yet. Yinsen's address was etched into his memory, a small house on a quiet street. It didn't take long for him to find it, though as he approached the door, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his mind. Perhaps he should have called first.
Still, he knocked firmly, his hand brushing the jacket as though to reassure himself. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal a woman with kind, but slightly wary, eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back, and she looked up at him with polite curiosity.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone cautious but not unfriendly.
Stephen straightened. "I'm looking for Dr. Ho Yinsen. Is he home?"
The woman blinked, her gaze softening slightly. "You must be one friend he made…then." At his subtle nod, she smiled warmly. "Come in. He's home."
Stephen stepped inside, glancing around the modest but welcoming interior. The house was warm, filled with signs of a life lived fully—family photos, bookshelves overflowing with well-worn volumes, and a faint aroma of spices lingering in the air. It was a stark contrast to the chaos he'd grown used to.
"Wait here," the woman said before disappearing down a hallway. Moments later, Yinsen appeared, his face lighting up when he saw Stephen.
"Stephen," Yinsen greeted, his tone both surprised and relieved. "It's good to see you."
Stephen inclined his head, his usual composure softening. "And you, Yinsen. I apologize for not notifying you in advance."
Yinsen waved the apology away, gesturing for Stephen to follow him into the living room. "It's no matter. Come, sit. I wasn't expecting you, but I'm glad you're here."
Stephen took a seat on the worn but comfortable couch, his eyes briefly scanning the room. Yinsen's wife lingered nearby for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen, giving them privacy.
"I've been worried," Yinsen admitted, sitting across from him. "I've seen the news. The battle in Los Angeles scared me, and then... Tony's press conference. There are rumors everywhere. What's been happening?"
Stephen exhaled slowly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Tony is... well, Tony. Reckless as ever, but determined to make amends for his past. The battle was... complicated. Let's just say he's fully committed to his new path."
Yinsen's brow furrowed, concern etched into his features. "And you? You've stayed with him through all of this?"
Stephen nodded. "I have. He has a knack for getting into trouble, and someone needs to keep him alive."
Yinsen chuckled softly, though the worry didn't leave his eyes. "That sounds about right. But it must be difficult for you. I know you're not... from here."
Stephen's gaze flicked to the floor for a moment before meeting Yinsen's. "It has its challenges. But I've made my choice. For better or worse, I've become involved in this world's events. And for now, that means helping Tony."
Yinsen studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You've changed since we last spoke. You seem... more at peace with yourself."
Stephen's lips quirked in a faint smile. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I've simply accepted that I can't remain an observer forever."
Before Yinsen could respond, Stephen reached into his pocket and pulled out the second phone Tony had given him. "Tony asked me to deliver this to you. He said it's a gift."
Yinsen's eyebrows rose as he took the phone, his fingers running over the sleek design. "A gift from Tony Stark? I'm almost afraid to ask what it does."
Stephen chuckled. "It's a phone. Untraceable, encrypted, and equipped with direct access to Tony and his AI, JARVIS. He thought you might appreciate it."
Yinsen shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "That man never ceases to surprise me."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Yinsen spoke again, his tone quiet but earnest. "Take care of him, Stephen. He's stubborn, but he means well. And I believe he'll need someone like you to keep him grounded."
Stephen inclined his head, his expression solemn. "I will."
As their conversation continued, Stephen leaned back slightly, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. For a man who had seen countless timelines and universes, this quiet moment of connection felt rare and grounding. He let the warmth of the room settle over him before deciding to share what was on his mind.
"I came here not just to deliver the phone," Stephen began, his tone softer now. "I wanted to see you before I leave for New York."
Yinsen tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his kind eyes. "New York? What takes you there?"
Stephen hesitated for a moment, glancing at the disguised form of his Cloak of Levitation. "There's a place there... a sanctum. It's connected to an order I was once a part of in another universe. I've been avoiding it for a while, but I think it's time I stop running."
Yinsen's expression turned thoughtful. "You've decided to integrate yourself into this world, haven't you?"
Stephen nodded slowly. "In my own way. I can't change who I am or where I come from, but I can't stand on the sidelines anymore. There's too much at stake—both for Tony and for this world as a whole. I've seen the dangers that are coming, and I can't pretend they don't exist."
Yinsen's gaze softened, his respect for Stephen clear. "That's a brave decision. I'm glad to hear it. This world could use someone like you."
Stephen allowed himself a small, genuine smile. "Thank you. It won't be easy. The sanctum—and the people I'll likely encounter there—will remind me of what I've lost. But it's a step I need to take."
Yinsen leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle. "It's a good step, Stephen. Integration doesn't happen overnight. It's a slow process, but it's worth it. You'll find your place."
Stephen inclined his head, appreciating Yinsen's encouragement. "I hope so."
For a moment, the two men sat in comfortable silence, the hum of the world outside barely reaching the cozy living room. Then Yinsen's face lit up as he leaned back, gesturing vaguely to the house around him.
"When I came home," Yinsen said, his voice filled with quiet emotion, "I was afraid. I'd been gone for so long, caught up in things no one should ever have to endure. I thought I wouldn't recognize my family anymore—or that they wouldn't recognize me. But they did. My daughters still hugged me like I'd never been away. My wife still looked at me like I was the same man who left. And slowly, I found my way back to them."
Stephen listened intently, his sharp blue eyes softening as Yinsen spoke. "That must have been… grounding."
"It was," Yinsen said with a small smile. "I won't pretend it's been easy. There are nights I wake up in a cold sweat, hearing the echoes of that cave. But being with them reminds me of why I endured it all. It gave me purpose again."
Stephen nodded, his gaze lowering slightly. "I suppose that's what I'm searching for. Purpose."
Yinsen leaned forward, resting a hand on the armrest of his chair. "You'll find it, Stephen. It may not look the way you expect, but it's there. Waiting for you."
Stephen met Yinsen's gaze, the weight of his words settling deep in his chest. For a man who had lived through centuries, who had seen more than any mortal could fathom, finding purpose felt like a daunting task. But Yinsen's quiet confidence was infectious.
"I hope you're right," Stephen said quietly.
Yinsen smiled warmly. "I know I am. And when you do find it, Stephen, don't let it go."
As the evening wore on, Yinsen shared more stories of his family—small, intimate moments that had become precious in the wake of his return. Stephen listened closely, allowing himself to be drawn into the simple beauty of a life rebuilt. It was a life he could never have for himself, but it inspired him nonetheless.
By the time Stephen rose to leave, the weight of his own uncertainty felt a little lighter. Yinsen walked him to the door, his wife appearing briefly to bid him farewell with a kind smile.
"Take care of yourself, Stephen," Yinsen said, clasping his shoulder firmly. "And if you ever find yourself in need of a reminder that this world is worth fighting for, you're always welcome here."
Stephen's smile was faint but genuine as he stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against his face. "Thank you, Yinsen. That means more than you know."
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