After a glass of scotch each, the quiet between them lingered.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Okay, this is really weird. You're looking at me like you want to confess a murder."
Stephen sighed, rubbing his temple. "I don't even know where to start."
Tony leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. "Like a confessional, Strange. You start from the beginning. Preferably without any Latin chanting."
That earned a soft chuckle. Then silence.
Stephen's face sobered as Tony gave a nod to FRIDAY. "Record Stephen's memories," he instructed, "and cross-reference for deviations or anomalies."
And so began the unspooling of multiversal knowledge.
For six hours and forty minutes, Doctor Stephen Strange relived it all. Every branch. Every death. Every timeline that bled into disaster or dissolved into silence.
By the end, his skin looked bloodless, his eyes sunken. He seemed hollowed out.
Tony, equally worn, exhaled a long breath. "Okay, this is probably hypocritical coming from me, but you need to sleep."
Stephen blinked slowly. "I'll portal back to the Sanctum. Call me when you're ready to dive in again."
Tony shook his head. "Nope. Just use one of the guest rooms. It's quicker. FRIDAY will show you."
Stephen nodded in silence and stood, his shoulders sagging. FRIDAY led him out of the room, the soft whir of the AI's sensors the only sound remaining.
Once alone, Tony moved quickly.
He didn't walk he ran. Straight to the bathroom.
The nausea hit all at once. His stomach rebelled with a force he hadn't expected, bile rising until he collapsed beside the toilet, retching and heaving until there was nothing left.
He clutched the bowl, then pressed his back to the wall, sweat-drenched and shaking.
He'd just seen it all.
How many ways he could die in a single war. How many times he had already died across timelines, dimensions, variations of himself. A million iterations of the same story, with a million different endings. Most of them bad.
And it wasn't just about him.
Images flooded his mind: Steve, Wanda, Rhodey, Bucky each of them falling, fading, screaming. Again and again.
And then came Peter.
Tony's lungs clamped down. He couldn't breathe. The air turned viscous, his chest constricted like knives were being driven through his ribs.
Peter. His kid.
Dying. Over and over and over.
His vision blurred. His ears rang. Somewhere, FRIDAY's voice filtered through, calm but distant.
"Sir? Sir, are you alright? You're hyperventilating. Please respond"
"F-Fri…" he choked. "C-call… Peter…"
Silence. Then a familiar voice lit up the line like sunlight.
"Hey, Mr. Stark! Guess what? The new Star Wars 5000-piece Lego set drops today and Ned pre-ordered it. It's arriving tonight! We're totally gonna whoa, you sound out of breath. Are you okay?"
Tony closed his eyes and forced air into his lungs. "Yeah, I'm… fine, kid. Just came off the treadmill. Keep talking. Tell me about your day."
Peter continued, cheerfully oblivious. "Okay! So Ned and I were wondering if we could use one of the R&D labs at Stark Industries for our robotics project. I mean, I know we have my personal lab, but it's kinda full of Spider-Man gear, and I don't wanna think about that while we're working on school stuff. Is that cool?"
Tony chuckled softly, though it came out strained. "Why not use your private lab? Fewer distractions."
"I know, but it's hard to separate Spidey stuff from school sometimes. Anyway, can we use one at the compound this weekend? Maybe take a break from patrol and help you and Vision with the nanotech?"
Tony's heart stopped.
The compound. The likely ground zero for Thanos. The last place Peter should be.
"No."
It came out sharper than he intended. He winced. "Sorry. It's not the best time, Under-roos. Vision's in Wakanda. We've got some… classified work happening here."
Peter paused, clearly disappointed. Tony scrambled.
"But hey, how about this?" he said quickly. "We do the weekend at the tower. Just us and Ned. Sleepover style. We can tinker on some new suit upgrades, work on your robotics project. No patrol, no distractions. Sound good?"
A beat.
Then: "Wait are you serious?! A sleepover at the tower?! Mr. Stark, Ned's gonna lose it!"
Tony smiled. "Then warn his parents. Don't need another lawsuit."
Peter laughed and kept talking about Aunt May, Ned's Lego obsession, school stress, sandwich shop drama, and which villain might show up on patrol that night.
Eventually, Peter had to hang up. "Gotta go, Mr. Stark. Time to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!"
Tony swallowed hard. "Be safe, Roo."
"Always!"
The call ended.
And for the first time in hours, Tony could breathe.
He stood up, legs shaky but steadying. Walked to the kitchen. Drank two full glasses of water. Then another. Then finally made his way to his room, peeling off sweat-drenched clothes and throwing them in the hamper.
He sat on the edge of the bed, mind blank, heart soft.
Peter.
That kid was sunlight.
Bright, hopeful, naive but good. So damn good.
Tony had always known he cared. But now… now he saw it clearly.
Peter wasn't just some intern. Not just a protégé.
Peter was his kid.
His son.
And the thought of Peter getting caught in this upcoming war being there when Thanos arrived was more than he could take.
The pain in his chest returned, sharp and twisting.
His child. In danger.
No.
Not on his watch.
That was all the motivation Tony Stark needed.
He got up, went to the bathroom cabinet, and retrieved a sleeping pill. He had to be sharp tomorrow. Clear-headed. He and Stephen would dig through the multiverse together. They would find a way.
A real way. One they could all live with.
He washed the pill down with water and climbed into bed.
As sleep took him, one thought stayed anchored in his heart.
He would protect Peter. No matter the cost.