Tony Stark did not hear the room.
He knew that intellectually.
Rhodey was somewhere behind his shoulder. Thor was close enough that Tony could still feel one massive hand hovering nearby. Vision had moved forward. Fury was probably barking orders. Someone had knocked over a chair.
None of it mattered.
Stephen Strange was in his arms.
Alive.
That was the only fact Tony's brain was willing to process.
Alive.
Hot.
Far too hot.
Heavy in the frightening way unconscious people were heavy.
Stephen's head rested against Tony's shoulder, his face pale beneath streaks of dried blood, mud and something blue Tony desperately hoped belonged to something else.
His robes were shredded.
His boots were ruined.
The Cloak looked like it had been dragged behind a truck through three separate ecosystems and then personally insulted by a wood chipper.
And Stephen wasn't waking up.
Tony tightened his grip.
"Stephen?"
Nothing.
"Merlin."
No response.
"Friday."
Tony's voice came out wrong.
Too sharp.
Too thin.
Friday answered immediately.
"Yes, Boss."
"Call Wong."
Tony shifted Stephen carefully, one arm supporting his back while the other slid beneath his knees.
"Tell him Strange is unconscious, injured, running a fever and needs medical assistance at the Compound immediately."
"Contacting Master Wong."
Tony looked down at Stephen again.
"Immediately means now."
"I have emphasized the urgency."
Someone stepped closer.
Tony didn't look up.
"Back off."
The movement stopped.
He didn't know who it had been.
Didn't care.
Stephen made a faint sound in the back of his throat.
Tony's attention snapped down.
"Hey. Hey, stay with me."
Stephen didn't open his eyes.
Tony's stomach twisted.
He'd gotten him back.
That was supposed to be the hard part.
Getting him back.
Stephen was here.
Therefore everything else was supposed to become manageable.
That was how problems worked.
Locate the variable.
Retrieve the variable.
Repair the damage.
Except Stephen wasn't machinery.
Tony couldn't open a diagnostic panel and start replacing parts.
He hated that.
He hated helplessness.
He hated magic.
He hated whatever had done this.
Most of all, he hated how frightened he was.
"Boss," Friday said softly, "Master Wong has acknowledged the message."
"ETA?"
Before Friday could answer, golden sparks erupted across the opposite side of the conference room.
Tony looked up.
A portal tore open.
Wong came through first.
Three sorcerers followed him.
Not apprentices.
Not the nervous younger Masters Tony had occasionally seen around Greenwich.
These were older men and women dressed in layered robes marked with symbols Tony didn't recognize, each carrying cases, folded cloths, bottles and enough magical equipment to make the conference room suddenly look painfully inadequate.
It had taken less than two minutes.
Wong saw Stephen.
Everything in his face changed.
"Move."
For once, Tony obeyed without argument.
The sorcerers surrounded them.
One dropped to her knees beside Stephen and pressed glowing fingers against his throat.
Another swept a circular sigil across his chest.
A third placed both hands over Stephen's abdomen.
Gold, blue and pale green magic spread across his body.
Tony watched every movement.
"His pulse is unstable."
"Severe thaumic depletion."
"Multiple fractures."
"Poison."
That word cut through everything.
Tony's head snapped up.
"What poison?"
The sorcerer didn't answer.
Not because she was ignoring him.
Because she was already working.
A web of green light formed above Stephen's chest, lines branching outward like veins.
Several turned black.
Tony felt sick.
Wong crouched beside Stephen's head.
"Stephen."
No response.
Wong's jaw tightened.
He looked at Tony.
"What happened?"
Tony laughed once.
It was completely humorless.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
Wong frowned.
"He fell out of a portal into my arms thirty seconds ago. That's the complete version of events."
Wong's gaze dropped briefly to the thread connecting Stephen and Tony.
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
Recognition.
Then professionalism slammed over it.
"Later."
Tony followed his gaze.
"What's later?"
"His condition."
"Wong."
"Tony."
It was the first time Tony had ever heard Wong use his first name with that tone.
Firm.
Not dismissive.
Not secretive.
Simply telling him that Stephen came first.
Tony shut his mouth.
Barely.
One of the senior sorcerers looked up.
"We need to move him."
"Where?"
"Kamar-Taj."
Tony immediately adjusted his grip.
"I'm coming."
Nobody argued.
Good.
Tony wasn't in the mood to commit international incidents inside a mystical monastery.
Behind him, Rhodey spoke.
"Tony."
Tony finally looked back.
The entire conference room was watching.
Steve.
Fury.
Gamora.
Rocket.
Quill.
Bucky.
Nebula.
Bruce.
Thor.
Vision.
Everyone.
Tony had forgotten every single one of them existed.
Rhodey stood closest.
"You go."
Two words.
No hesitation.
Tony nodded.
Vision stepped forward.
"Sir, I can accompany you."
Tony looked at him.
Part of him wanted that.
Wanted every safe person gathered around Stephen like armor.
But the Compound still mattered.
Thanos still existed.
The meeting still needed people Tony trusted.
"Stay with Rhodey."
Vision hesitated.
Tony softened slightly.
"Please."
Vision nodded.
"Of course."
Thor looked toward Stephen, worry plain across his face.
"Keep us informed."
"I will."
Tony looked at Friday's nearest camera.
"Baby girl, full relay. Anything happens here, you tell me. Anything happens with the boys, you tell me faster."
"Yes, Boss."
Wong opened another portal.
Beyond it waited stone courtyards, mountain air and Kamar-Taj.
The sorcerers lifted Stephen magically, supporting his body inside a glowing lattice.
Tony followed so closely he nearly stepped on Wong's robes.
The portal closed behind them.
The Avengers Compound disappeared.
Tony never looked back.
Kamar-Taj
Chaos looked different when sorcerers did it.
Stark Industries chaos involved alarms, diagnostic screens, people shouting numbers and Friday politely informing everyone which expensive object had just exploded.
Kamar-Taj chaos was quieter.
That somehow made it worse.
The moment they appeared in the central courtyard, people moved.
No shouting.
No confusion.
One sorcerer saw Stephen and immediately rang a bronze bell suspended beneath the eastern archway.
Three deep notes rolled through the compound.
Doors opened.
Robes appeared.
Tony counted eight people before they even reached the medical wing.
Then twelve.
Then he stopped counting.
Stephen was taken through a set of carved wooden doors.
Tony followed.
A sorcerer stepped into his path.
Tony stopped.
Slowly looked at him.
The man reconsidered several life decisions.
"Family may wait inside the outer chamber."
Tony's eyes narrowed.
"I am not family."
The sorcerer glanced toward Stephen.
Then toward the golden thread still attached to Tony's wrist.
Then back to Tony.
Something deeply unhelpful flickered across his face.
"Of course."
Tony pointed at him.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"That was a very aggressive nothing."
Wong appeared behind Tony.
"Stark."
Tony turned.
Wong pointed toward a bench.
"Sit."
"No."
"Sit."
"Wong, I'm not one of your students."
"No. My students listen."
Tony stared at him.
Wong stared back.
Tony sat.
Purely because Stephen was currently receiving treatment and Tony did not want to get banned from Kamar-Taj before figuring out where the coffee was.
The Cloak floated past him.
Tony stared.
It looked even worse in proper lighting.
"Oh, buddy."
The Cloak drooped.
Tony reached out carefully.
A torn corner settled into his hand.
"What happened to you?"
The Cloak slapped his arm.
"Okay. Stupid question."
It slumped against his shoulder.
Tony examined the sticky silver residue covering one side.
"What is that?"
The Cloak twitched.
"Right. No vocal cords."
Another weak slap.
"I'm sorry."
Tony looked toward the doors.
Then back at the Cloak.
"He said he'd get you cleaned?"
The Cloak perked up.
Tony blinked.
"Oh, you've had this conversation."
A vigorous flutter.
Tony almost smiled.
"Fine. Premium treatment. Whatever sorcerer dry cleaning costs, put it on Stark Industries."
The Cloak wrapped weakly around his shoulders.
Tony froze.
Then very carefully patted it.
"Don't make this weird."
It tightened.
Tony's throat burned.
"Yeah."
He looked at the closed doors.
"Me too."
Inside the treatment chamber, Stephen Strange was buried beneath magic.
Healing sigils hovered above him in layered circles.
One sorcerer stabilized his breathing.
Another worked over his left ankle, golden threads weaving through splintered bone and damaged tissue.
Two more focused on his chest.
A dark bruise spread across his ribs beneath torn fabric.
One of the healers muttered something in Tibetan.
Wong's expression tightened.
Another glowing lattice formed.
Fragments of damaged bone shifted slowly back into alignment.
Stephen didn't move.
That, apparently, was part of the problem.
His body could heal.
Stephen's body had been altered by years of magic, dimensional exposure and the continuous absorption of ambient mystical energy.
Under normal circumstances, injuries that would put an ordinary human in hospital for weeks could heal dramatically faster.
But Stephen was unconscious.
His internal magical circulation had nearly shut down.
And he had spent whatever reserves remained getting himself home.
The sorcerers could keep him stable.
Could repair.
Could purge the poison.
But eventually Stephen himself needed to take over.
Tony lasted twenty-three minutes before standing.
Wong looked up from the other side of the waiting chamber.
"Sit down."
"No."
"Tony."
"It's been twenty-three minutes."
"Yes."
"What does twenty-three minutes mean in wizard medicine?"
"It means twenty-three minutes."
"Fantastic. Very informative."
Wong sighed.
Tony paced.
Three steps.
Turn.
Three steps.
Turn.
The medical doors opened.
Tony stopped so quickly his shoes squeaked against stone.
One of the senior healers emerged.
"Mr. Stark?"
Tony crossed the room.
"That's me. Unfortunately. How is he?"
"Alive."
Tony's shoulders dropped.
He hadn't realized how high they'd been.
"And stable."
More air left him.
The healer continued.
"He has a fractured left ankle, three fractured ribs, extensive soft-tissue trauma, severe dehydration and magical exhaustion."
Tony's face hardened.
"And the poison?"
"We've identified several foreign compounds in his bloodstream."
"Several?"
"The majority appear biological. Venom, plant toxins, possibly environmental exposure."
Tony stared.
What the hell had happened to him?
"We are removing them."
"Will they cause permanent damage?"
"No."
Tony closed his eyes briefly.
Thank God.
The healer continued.
"His magic protected him from the worst of it."
"His magic nearly killed him."
"In part."
Tony's eyes opened.
"Explain."
The healer gestured toward the treatment room.
"Doctor Strange has a highly developed natural healing response because his body continuously interacts with dimensional energy. He absorbs and circulates it instinctively."
Tony nodded slowly.
Magic metabolism.
Fine.
He could work with that concept.
"At present, however, he is unconscious and his reserves are nearly empty. He cannot properly draw ambient energy while deeply unconscious."
"So his healing factor isn't working."
"Not at full strength."
"But yours is."
"Our magic is supporting his body until his own systems recover."
Tony looked through the partially open door.
Stephen lay motionless beneath floating light.
"How long?"
"The immediate danger has passed."
Tony swallowed.
"And?"
"When he wakes, his recovery should accelerate significantly. Once he can absorb dimensional energy on his own, the remaining injuries will heal rapidly."
"Define rapidly."
The healer considered.
"If there are no complications, he should be capable of leaving bed by Saturday."
Tony blinked.
"Saturday?"
"Yes."
Tony glanced toward Stephen.
Broken ankle.
Three fractured ribs.
Poisoned.
Dehydrated.
Apparently wizard medicine considered four days practically a spa weekend.
"You're sure?"
"We would prefer he remain resting longer."
Tony gave him a flat look.
"You've met him?"
The healer's expression became painfully tired.
"Unfortunately."
Tony nodded.
"Then we both know that's not happening."
"Which is why," Wong said behind him, "we will require assistance."
Tony turned.
Wong folded his arms.
Tony understood immediately.
"No."
"You haven't heard the proposal."
"You're about to ask me to keep Stephen in bed."
"Yes."
Tony pointed toward the treatment room.
"That man trapped Dormammu in a time loop."
"Yes."
"He argues with gods."
"Yes."
"He voluntarily lives in a building that tries to eat visitors."
"Only occasionally."
"And you're assigning me this job?"
Wong's mouth twitched.
"You appear uniquely qualified."
Tony stared at him.
Then looked through the door at Stephen.
Alive.
Breathing.
Finally safe.
Tony's expression softened.
"Yeah."
Quietly:
"I'll handle him."
They let Tony inside once the major healing work was finished.
Stephen had been moved to a quieter room.
No machines.
Tony hated that immediately.
There were no monitors.
No heart-rate readouts.
No oxygen saturation.
No numbers.
Just a sleeping sorcerer surrounded by glowing wards and a small crystal near his bed that pulsed rhythmically with every heartbeat.
Tony stared at it.
"That's the monitor?"
"Essentially," Wong said.
"It doesn't have numbers."
"It does not require numbers."
"Everything requires numbers."
"Stephen is alive."
Tony glanced at the crystal.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
"...Fine."
Wong left him there.
The Cloak had been taken for cleaning after violently objecting to being separated from Stephen for approximately six minutes.
Apparently promises of premium conditioner eventually won.
Tony pulled a chair beside the bed.
Sat down.
For a while, he didn't speak.
There wasn't anything useful to say.
Stephen looked terrible.
Cleaner now.
Someone had washed the blood from his face.
Bandages crossed his ribs beneath loose robes.
His ankle was immobilized inside a faint golden brace.
The fever had come down.
His breathing was steady.
Tony watched his chest rise.
Fall.
Rise.
Fall.
Alive.
There was that word again.
The best word Tony knew.
He leaned back.
"You are in so much trouble."
Stephen remained unconscious.
Tony nodded.
"Yeah. Sleep now. Smart choice."
He folded his arms.
"Because when you wake up, we're having a conversation."
Nothing.
"You don't get to vanish for days."
Tony's voice cracked slightly.
He ignored it.
"No call. No message. No magical voicemail. No 'Dear Tony, accidentally fell into Hell, back Tuesday.' Nothing."
His hand tightened around the chair arm.
"I had Wong telling me he couldn't find you anywhere on Earth."
Quiet.
"I had the kids asking where you were."
His jaw flexed.
"I had your chair empty at dinner."
That one hurt.
Tony looked away.
"I'm glad you're alive."
The sarcasm disappeared completely.
"So damn glad."
He reached out.
Stopped.
Then gently took Stephen's hand.
He looked back at Stephen.
"But when you wake up, Merlin..."
Tony squeezed his fingers carefully.
"...you and I are going to have a long, hard conversation about disappearing without telling anybody."
Stephen slept through the threat.
Tony sighed.
"Typical."
He settled deeper into the chair.
For the first time in days, his mind wasn't asking whether Stephen was coming home.
Stephen was home.
Tony could be angry later.
He could ask where Stephen had been later.
For now, Stephen was breathing.
That was enough.
Tony closed his eyes.
His hand remained wrapped around Stephen's.
And neither Wong nor any of the medical sorcerers thought it was remotely necessary to explain what the golden bond they had seen between Tony and Stephen actually meant.