𝑻𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 , she knew what she was getting into the moment that she fell in love with him. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't want him to sometimes put himself first over the world. Maybe, selfishly, put her first before the world. She knows that she can't ask him to do that , but she can let him know what she's thinking and feeling and this is what she's thinking and feeling right now.

𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ? He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift, but the question settles deep in his chest like a weight. He stares at the holographic display in front of him, but the numbers, the projections, the threat they represent—it all blurs for a moment. Her voice is soft, almost broken, and that’s what gets to him. He knows she’s right. She always is, in that frustrating way of hers. But Tony never learned how to stand still. He’s always been the guy who acts, who calculates the odds and does what needs doing because, for him, there’s no alternative. And yet, the way she says his name—it’s the same tone she uses when she traces the scars on his chest after one of those long nights where sleep refuses to come. He doesn’t turn to face her. If he does, if he meets her eyes, he’ll falter. And faltering isn't an option. Not when the stakes are this high. But the crack in her voice echoes in his head, and for the first time in a long while, Tony feels the pull of something more personal than the mission. It’s not the world needing him this time. It’s her.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏, and Stephen greets him with open arms, pulling him close to him when Tony shoots him that look. He puts his hand lovingly on the boy's cheek. " I know, Theo...I know." He rubs his son's back as he watches Tony, and he watches AJ. What is going on that would leave her there a moment longer than the two of them?

𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆𝒔, watching her, his heart pounding in his throat. And when her eyes find him—when she whispers, "Daddy!"—something inside him breaks. The tears in her eyes, the way she reaches for him, pulls him from the crushing weight of helplessness he’s been drowning in since this nightmare began. He’s at her side in an instant, his arms wrapping around her, holding her as tight as he can without letting go. The sobs come, and each one feels like a punch to his chest. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... " she cries into his shoulder, and Tony’s heart twists. Sorry ? For what ? He doesn't care about the magic, doesn't care about the reckless boy who dragged her into this ordeal. He doesn’t care about anything right now except the fact that she’s here, alive, in his arms. His fingers thread gently through her hair, his cheek pressed against her head as he whispers, " Shh, baby. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. " But the words feel hollow, inadequate. How could he explain to her that what she saw wasn’t some dream ? That she had been trapped in the darkest day of his life—the day he thought he’d never come back. The day he left everything behind to save the world. And she watched it. Lived it. The thought rips through him, and he swallows hard, trying to keep it together for her.

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒊𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒏 where there shouldn't be in this moment. How is AJ capable of this ? He knows that her mother has mutant DNA in her ; but he thought certainly it was not passed down to the child. And yet somehow biology decided to play a game, a trick it seems to give the child something of a power of her own. Though how to explain it, define it was not something that Stephen himself could do. His only touch to the past was with magic, an amulet who allowed him to test time within certain bounds. But this girl in her dreams is time traveling, watching everything happen that she shouldn't. How ?

𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, his heart pounding, eyes glued to Strange, straining to catch every word. He fights to keep his mind from spiraling, to block out the images of the horror AJ must be experiencing—reliving the day that fuels his nightmares, the day that drove him to spend countless nights in his workshop, trying to ward off any future danger from the world and everything that he holds dear. The way Stephen speaks, the calm in his voice, but without Tony seeing how he's trying to calm AJ, only amplifies his helplessness. His gaze keeps drifting to her still form on the bed, every muscle in his face tight with terror, each second stretching unbearably as he waits for any sign of her coming back to him.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 , all the while his eyes are scanning the scene before him. He knows Tony wants answers, he can hear him as an echo against his ears. Steady breathing before he answers.

𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎 stay glued to Strange, every muscle in his body coiled with tension, waiting for any sign, any clue about what’s happening to his kid. When Stephen finally speaks, his words hit Tony like a gut punch. 2012 ? The Battle of New York ? AJ wasn’t even born then. How could she possibly be there ? The confusion twists in his gut, a knot tightening alongside the fear gnawing at him. His mouth goes dry, his throat constricting as he struggles to find his voice. The impossible reality crashes over him, leaving him momentarily paralyzed, a thousand questions and no answers tearing at his sanity, twisting his gut into tighter knots. He grabs his chest, pacing back and forth, the movement doing little to ease the crushing anxiety. Then Stephen’s voice cuts through again, telling him that he understands now—that AJ is watching him sacrifice himself. His eyes snap wide in shock as he whirls back around to face the sorcerer.

𝑯𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, he's too much like his father and he knows it. The need to show off, the need to be the center of attention. Stephen gets it completely, of all the things he could pass down to his son. But he is also willing to help as seen by this situation of which he's holding AJ and in her head. Stephen takes some steps back and with the wave of his hand he relights the candles that are in the room. Leg's crossing he levitates in the center murmuring words to draw in a connection between him and the kids and the dream state they're in. He gives one glance to Tony before he falls deep into it. ❝ Lucky for you...I can keep you updated. ❞ though he doesn't think he can entirely trust Tony in the moment -- he's going to try.

𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙮 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨, unease gnawing at him, as Stephen steps back and waves his hand, causing the candles in the room to flicker back to life. The flickering flames cast long shadows, adding an eerie quality to the scene. Stephen’s legs cross, and he begins to levitate, murmuring words that Tony can’t understand but knows are vital. Tony shifts uncomfortably and the glow of the mystic's spell reflects in his eyes, but all he feels is a growing dread, a sensation he can’t shake as he watches Strange weave his magic. It’s maddening to stand idle, every instinct screaming at him to take action, but all he can do is wait and hope. When Stephen glances at him and says he's lucky to be kept updated, lips press into a thin, grim line. He forces himself to stay silent, but the tension is evident in the way his jaw tightens. Trusting someone else, especially in a situation as dire as this, goes against every instinct he has. But he has no choice. Not now. He nods, a terse acknowledgment of the gesture, watching as Stephen’s eyes shut tight, then open to reveal a glowing blue light. A soft mist circles around the sorcerer, its tendrils weaving through the air like ghostly fingers. Tony feels a chill creep up his spine, an icy sensation that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature. The ethereal fog seems to seep into his bones and his heart races as he stands there, helplessly observing. It feels like torture. Then he hears Stephen’s voice, faint but unmistakable, “Impossible...” His breath catches in his throat, and he steps closer, his eyes fixed on the wizard’s face, desperately searching for any hint of what’s unfolding. But Stephen’s expression remains an enigma, offering nothing to ease the mounting dread gnawing at Tony’s insides. The uncertainty tightens around him like a vice, squeezing every ounce of his composure.

"Just because we ended up exactly where you thought we would? That doesn't mean that what you're doing is right. None of this is right. I agree we need to be held accountable for the things that happen when we go out there and work. But you can't tell me that this stack of papers is the way to do it." When would them being on opposite sides ever end? It was exhausting to say the least. He didn't want to fight with Tony. He had thought they were friends. But this entire situation seemed to be disproving that.

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 stare at the stack of papers on the table between them, and his mind races, gears turning behind his sharp eyes, each thought a spark in the intricate machinery of his intellect. When Steve speaks, it's with the resolute tone of a man who believes in his heart’s compass, unyielding and uncompromising. It’s both admirable and infuriating. Tony leans forward, the mask o f casual nonchalance slipping just enough to reveal the raw edge of his frustration. " Steve, it's not about being right in some moral high ground sense. It's about being pragmatic. We ended up here because the world is watching, and they want accountability. This isn't just some stack of papers. " A hand rubs over his face, the weight of countless arguments etched into the lines around his eyes. His shoulders sag under the invisible burden of their ideological war. The man across from him isn’t just a colleague, he’s a friend—or at least Tony thought he was. Yet, here they are, lines drawn in the sand, on opposite sides of a battlefield neither of them wanted. " Do you think I like this ? Any of it ? " Tony’s voice lowers, a glimpse of fragility slipping through the cracks of his usually impenetrable facade. " This isn’t about trusting the government. Hell, you think I trust them ? But we can’t just keep going rogue. There has to be a middle ground. "

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 , 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 , as though he's biting down on his tongue hard to not say the things he wants to say to Tony in that moment. He mentions that if something happens to AJ he will kill him. Stephen scoffs, shaking his head. ❝ You know damn well I will never let that happen. Not to your kid, not to mine. ❞ the words come out as bullets hoping to hit the armored man where it matters most. He needs to put some faith in Stephen, he did once before. But this is the matter of their children so he can understand exactly why this isn't going to go the same way it had before.

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙟𝙖𝙬 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 as Stephen’s words hit him like a series of gut punches, maybe even go through to him. This realization forces him to confront the uncomfortable truth: Stephen is fighting for his son just as fiercely as he is for his daughter. It’s a sobering thought, one that tempers his anger with a heavy dose of understanding. Damn, Tony just hopes this doesn’t go any further south. She’s the one who brought light into his darkest hours, her innocent questions breaking through his brooding thoughts. Her spark of curiosity, the way she’d marvel at his gadgets, always asking “How does it work, Daddy?” She is all that he isn’t—the best of him. When he looks at her, he sees the future he wants to protect, the embodiment of every hope he’s ever had. Losing her is not an option. It would shatter him in ways he can’t even begin to fathom. As Stephen steps closer to look at their children, Tony's gaze follows, his eyes narrowing at the sight of boys’s arm draped protectively over AJ, their hands clasped together. The trust AJ must have felt in Theo to allow this, to let him into her mind, stirs something deep and conflicted. Anger bubbles up again, mingling with a sharp sting of fear, but beneath it all is a begrudging acknowledgment of the bond they share. Why did she let this happen ?

𝑯𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑻𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒅 ; 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 but fighting will not solve this problem. Even with barbed words that were meant to cut Stephen tries to find grace in the moment. But there is only so much of a verbal lashing that Stephen could take when it came to his parenting.

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨, every muscle in his body tight and his eyes lock on Stephen, the words ringing in his ears like an accusation. The heat of his own anger rises, mingling with the cold dread that has settled in his chest. The voice of reason is somewhere in there, trying to break through, but the care for his daughter blinds him to it. The logical part of his mind is suffocated, leaving no room for anything but the desperate need to protect his little girl. However, he knows this isn’t his field. The realm of magic and mystical spells is as foreign to him as the inner workings of an arc reactor would be to a caveman. There’s nothing he can do except stand by as his daughter lies there, her life hanging by a thread. The gnawing helplessness eats at him, every second stretching into an eternity. He has to put his trust fully in Stephen Strange, the wizard whose reckless son is the cause of all this. That boy, Theo, has always acted before thinking. The countless times he’s seen the kid dive headfirst into situations without a second thought Why should Tony even begin to consider the reasons behind Theo's actions ? No matter how noble Theo's intentions might be, or how much he cares about AJ, it doesn’t change the fact that his impulsiveness has led to this nightmare. He knows Stephen is doing everything he can, but it’s little comfort. His trust in Stephen is both a necessity and a bitter pill to swallow, overshadowed by the ever-present fear that it might not be enough. All Tony can see is the harm done to his only child, a child who’s a miracle to even exist. He clicks his tongue, a sharp sound of frustration, glancing to the side for a moment, trying to think. The rational part of him knows he needs to back down. This isn't a battle, not one he can fight with repulsors and ingenuity. His head turns back to Stephen, his eyes glazed over.