#brotop

He can imagine what Christina would say if she were here. Hell, what Wong would say. 

“It’s not your fault, Stephen. It was the only way.” Or would they even say that? No one knows it was the only way except for him. No one else manipulated the time stone and underwent the millions of scenarios, only to find one that didn’t result in the world ending in a fiery ball of Thanos’ wrath. He’s the only one who will ever be burdened with this. With having to witness Earth being destroyed over and over and over… 

Stephen looks up, seeing the small silhouette of a little girl by the lake. The funeral ended about an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. He should leave. Go back to the sanctum and get to work in rebuilding the chaos the world is left in at the moment. But he can’t bring himself to. 

Tony was his friend. Someone he had come to care for. Perhaps this Tony didn’t consider Strange a friend, however, Stephen considered all of them his friends and teammates. He had gone to hell and back with them fourteen million six hundred and five times. He had developed bonds, whether they knew it or not. 

Morgan Stark. The daughter of the man he… he what? Stephen didn’t kill Tony. Sure, he could have let the deceased remain deceased, however, eventually, another threat would come. He saw that. He saw the Avengers being slaughtered and humans being taken as slaves. He saw it all. This was the only way… right?

Stephen has to turn away from her. He can’t bear to look at this small child who can barely understand what is going on today. All she knows is that her father won’t be there to tuck her in tonight. And that kills Stephen. It lays an unearthly amount of guilt upon his shoulders. One man’s life for half of the universe shouldn’t be a difficult concept to accept. 

So why is he having such a hard time accepting that Tony Stark is really gone?

Stephen lets out a quiet sigh, turning away to walk into the woods. A walk, before he goes back. To clear his head. That’s what he needs right now. 

He doesn’t get far when a shadow appears in front of his feet. Raising a brow, the sorcerer follows the darkness of the shadow to its owner, slightly surprised to see Wong standing in front of him. For once, he’s dressed in something other than  his robes, adorning a simple black suit instead. 

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the sanctum?”

  “I left Master Awiti in charge,” Wong waves him off, hands clasped professionally behind his back. “Besides. I never did get my tuna melt.”

Stepehn stares at the sorcerer, dumbfounded. He can’t be serious?

“You’re telling me,” Stephen begins, raising a scrutinizing brow. “That in the last five years, you never bothered to buy a tuna melt?” Wong shrugs. 

“Everyone at the deli was dead.”

“Oh, so there were none other open?”

“Come, Let’s go get a sandwich,” Wong ignores his last question, opening a portal and stepping aside. Stephen rolls his eyes, nonetheless stepping through the circle crackling with golden sparks. 

“This place is still open?” Stephen questions quietly as they come to a halt in front of the deli. It was a continuous favorite of his. Even before all… this. Before the accident, when he was just a surgeon who was impeccably good at his job. 

“Yes,” Wong nods, walking ahead of him to enter the shop. Stephen runs a hand along his peppered hair, sighing once again and following after his friend. 

It’s a simple deli, with an array of meats on display in front of the cash register, and a few wooden benches to sit and eat on. After ordering and receiving their sandwiches, the two men take a seat by the window and dive in. 

Well, Wong dives in. Stephen, on the other hand, doesn't touch his food, simply staring out the window with a longing look in his eyes. Wong follows his line of sight to across the street, where a row of condos sit. A teenager knocks on the door, holding a slip of paper between her shaking hands. She knocks on the door, once, then steps back, pushing her shoulders back and standing straight. As the door opens, and as a young man comes into view, her shoulders immediately drop. They speak for a bit, before she sulks away. 

“She’s looking for her family,” Stepohen states, attempting to come off as casual. Wong hears the tenseness in his voice. 

“Many families were misplaced after Thanos,” Wong explains, folding his hands together. “I’m sure she will find hers soon.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“I actually wanted to speak to you about that,” Wong clears his throat, leaning forward. “I had plans to bring it up after a meal, but this works as well. Myself and some of the other sorcerers thought it would be fit for us to assist in reuniting families, as we have locators on every person-”

“Do what you want,” Stephen waves him off, catching his friend by surprise. 

“What?”

“You ran the sanctum just fine for five years,” Stephen crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back. “Take over. I’m done.”

“Strange-”

“I completed my purpose, Wong,” He cuts Wong off, brows furrowing together. “I helped save the universe. And in doing so, I took a father away from his child. A husband away from his wife. I robbed the world of a hero. So no, I don’t want to go back to the Sanctum and continue being the Sorcerer Supreme. I… I can’t.”

Wong has never seen him like this before. So… broken. Stephen doesn’t do broken. He does confidence, and a bit too much pride to be healthy. But broken? Wong knew he had put himself in a time loop, but he didn’t think it had affected him this much. 

“Get up,” Wong stands abruptly, looking down at Stephen with a hardset gaze. Stephen stares back, clearly confused. “We’re walking now. Up.”

Strange lets out a heavy sigh, smoothening down the sides of his hair and following after Wong. The golden portal opens up, and the two step through. Stephen is surprised to find himself standing in the midst of a forest. Pine and leaves drift through the air, the sounds of squirrels scuttling up trees and birds chirping happily the only ones to hear. The sorcerer’s pale eyes drift up towards the sky, clouded by towering trees wearing soft blankets of moss. 

All in all, it’s very calming. Serene. Well, it should be serene. Stephen finds it… plain. He used to find all of serenity and happiness in an O.R, before the accident. Before every aspect of his life changed. 

“Where are we, Wong?” He sighs, turning towards his friend tiredly. Wong ignores him, continuing to gaze calmly at the scene. 

“I come here when I am feeling overwhelmed,” Replies Wong after a long moment, hands clasped behind his back. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. 

“Okay…” Stephen’s eyes flicker left and right before back to his friend, who happens to be weirding him in this particular situation. “So what do I-”

“I grew up in the sanctum,” Wong interrupts, slightly annoying the other. “I come from a long generation of Chinese monks that served the Ancient One. I watched my father- Master Hamir- practice alongside her for years. It was quite the image to live up to, and I remember constantly being frightened that I would not achieve the level of excellence and perfection he had in his work.”

“Master Hamir is your father?” Stephen chokes in disbelief. “H-How did I not know this? I thought we were friends, Wong. Friends tell friends when they’re fathers are working in the same building as them!”

“This forest in Northern China gave me peace and moments of redemption from the real world. Trapping myself in the mirror dimension and meditating allowed me to think, and grow.”

“All this time, I just thought you two talked a lot because you were friends,” Stephen scoffs, shaking his head, still hung up on the earlier subject. Wong rolls his eyes. 

“I failed to mention it because there was no benefit in you knowing. Now pay attention. I brought you to this sacred place to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Strange mutters stubbornly turning away. 

“Do you hear that?” Wong asks quietly, closing his eyes. Stephen snorts. 

“What? The sound of my time being wasted? Loud and clear, buddy.”

“The river,” The librarian corrects. “The splash of water against the stones? The creatures of the forest lapping it up?”

“Sure,” Stephen plays along, shrugging. “I hear it.”

“Do you hear the sounds of the birds chirping in the trees?”

“Yes.”

“And the squirrels running up the trees to the safety of their burrows?”

“Yes, Wong, I have ears,” Stephen snaps. “Now that we’ve confirmed that I’m not deaf, can we go home? I have work I need to finish.”

“The animals,” Wong, once again, ignores him. “The trees, and the grass. Even the insects crawling beneath our feet. They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. You helped bring them back”

Stephen freezes in place, stiffening up. He’s an idiot. He should have known what Wong’s goal was all along. But then again, Wong isn’t exactly a “help you feel better’ kind of person. He’s the kind of person who will tell you to suck it up and keep fighting, because that’s the only thing to do. This… all of it… if very new territory. 

“I know that,” Stephen glares at him, whipping around. “I helped. We all did. You think I don’t know that?”

“You blame yourself,” Wong tells him. “For the deaths. Iron Man. Widow. Gamora. The Vision. Loki. The Asgardians. All the lives lost after the snap, those who weren’t strong enough to handle the losses. Those who couldn’t survive without-”

“I don’t,” Stephen cuts him off harshly, clenching his shaking hands in frustration. When he gets particularly angry, it’s hard to control the tremors. “That’s not my problem. My priority was defeating Thanos, and it’s done! It’s over! I did what needed to be done, and I can’t do anything about anyone whose dead! I can’t bring them back!  I can’t… ”

It’s too much. Too much pain, and guilt. Too many emotions. 

Shit. 

It’s an overload on his heart, and before Stephen knows it, he’s breaking down. He stumbles in his place, falling to the floor messily. It doesn’t matter. The stinging in his knees and palms, the stinging in his eyes… nothing compares to the pain in his heart. The weight crushing his shoulders. 

He buries his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. It all comes rushing at once. The millions of scenarios, and deaths… Flashes of memories… Thanos stabbing Tony threw the chest with no chance of resurrection, Quill being practically ripped in half, Peter’s being thrown back with so much force he dies on impact… that wasn’t dust. They didn't turn to dust. They died. Horrifying and gruesome deaths, in front of those who cared about them. Over, and over, and over, and-

“Strange!” Wong’s booming voice pulls him back into reality, and the sorcerer realizes tears are making there way down his cheeks. Not just one. Several stain his skin, small little indications of sorrow written across his features. 

“I’m fine,” He pushes Wong away, attempting to stand up. It’s a failed attempt as he stumbles back and lands back on the floor with a defeated thump. “I’m fine. I’m… I’m …,” He harshly wipes away the tears, wanting to force himself to stop this madness. There is no reason, no reason to cry. To be sad. He survived. His friends. Survived. But this toll…

Wong doesn’t try to comfort or help Stephen up, which he is thankful for. Instead, the librarian takes a seat on a rock beside him, and folds his hands together. He sits quietly, closing his eyes and peacefully meditating. 

“I helped save them,” Stephen finally speaks, leaning against a tree stump. “I protected the stone and gave it up. I helped orchestrate the events so they would happen. But… five years, Wong. Five years of parents mourning their children. Of friends having an empty void in their lives, and children wandering around mindlessly without the guiding hands of their mothers and fathers. Five years… you know in one instance, it was five hundred years? Everything happened the same, except this time, I let five hundred years go by. A new age of heroes saved the Earth, but it wasn’t the Earth anymore. It was so broken and different that I had to scrap it. Another time, five months went by. I changed some events, leaving clues. But they weren’t ready, and Thanos came in contact with the stones again. He destroyed the Earth. This was the only way.”

He waits for Wong to cut in with some sort of inspirational note, and is caught by surprise when he does not. Slightly relieved, as well. 

“I close my eyes, and I see them. Dying. Because of me-”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Strange,” Wong finally speaks. “You always like to make it about you. Everyone who died died because of a reason, and that reason was not you. The Asgardians happened to come across Thanos’ ship. The daughter of Thanos died at his hand, and Stark was always ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. They did that. Not you. Them.”

“But-”

“No,” Wong cuts in, opening his eyes just enough to roll them. “No more buts. This is a sacred place. Sit and be silent, I no longer want to hear about your non existent self pity. It was a war, and individuals die in war. That is no one’s fault but the enemy. And you’re solution is to give up? That’s a cowards way out, Stephen.” 

Stephen slumps back in defeat, pressing his thumb into his right palm. “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a hardass?”

“What do you not understand about, be silent?” Wong sighs, causing Stephen to smirk and begin talking about something else mindlessly. Wong mocks annoyance, but deep inside, he feels relief, and even a bit of happiness. Five years was far too long for Strange to be gone. Sure, he may be annoying, and though Wong would never admit it, he missed the Sorcerer. For the obvious reasons, of course. Stephen is his superior, his partner, and someone he had once had the pleasure of helping and teaching. 

And dare he say it, Stephen Strange is his friend.

***