"Elder gods?" Stark caught Li Feng's sleeve as the mirror dimension began to peel away. "Was that real, or were you testing my poker face?"
Li Feng studied him. "What's it to you—planning a divine autopsy?"
Stark pinched the bridge of his nose. "Curiosity. Pure and noble."
"Sure." Li Feng tipped his head. "Yes, 'gods' exist. Ever heard of Norse berserkers?"
"You mean Asgard," Stark said carefully. "You're telling me the Aesir are real."
"In modern terms?" Li Feng shrugged. "Aliens with tech and lifespans that make Earth look pre-school. Toured here a while back."
Stark absorbed it. Advanced tech—easy. Lifespans—harder. "How long is 'long'?"
"For those who awaken godforce?" Li Feng's mouth went wry. "Five thousand years isn't special. Ten thousand if you're interesting. Odin? Don't put him under five millennia."
Stark smacked his lips, then slipped into philosopher mode. "Life isn't 'how long,' it's 'why.' Fireworks go fast and people still look up. The rock under my shoe's been around forever—no one thanks it."
Li Feng pressed the back of his hand to Stark's forehead. "Fever. Want me to call an ambulance? You sound like a TED Talk."
Stark swatted him away. "The end of science is philosophy. You wouldn't get it."
"What's wrong with being vulgar?" Li Feng flicked a glance at the arc reactor. "If not for that vulgar friend in your chest, you still wouldn't know how to save yourself."
And during my grand salvation, Stark thought, you're mostly making sure I don't die on the table. He stepped out of the crystalline world with Li Feng. "When do I get the Fountain? After I fetch your nightmare book?"
"Nice try." Li Feng spread his hands. "You'll get it when your OR's prepped. We both signed a covenant. Too late to get cute."
"Or," Stark said, scratching his brow with a grin, "you give me a little now. For science. I poke it, I prod it—"
"Spare me," Li Feng said. "You don't have the equipment to store it. Drop the angle."
He pivoted toward the exit. "Do me a favor—call S.H.I.E.L.D. My chauffeur's late. Coulson's stock is tanking."
Stark's eye twitched. Since when does S.H.I.E.L.D. run a limo service? Still, a few minutes later a burgundy soft-top purred up to the front entrance.
Coulson leaned over the wheel as Li Feng circled the car like he was buying it at auction. "Like her?"
Li Feng slid in. "Which antique shop did you rob? The refurb's not bad."
"Seat belt," Coulson said pleasantly, easing Laura—yes, Laura—into traffic. When Li Feng's fingers wandered, he added, "She doesn't like being pawed."
Li Feng's grin turned conspiratorial. "I've got a flying RV. What should I name him so he and Laura make a cute couple? We'll have a wedding. By winter, Laura births a litter of flying baby campers. I'll even let you adopt."
If names made money breed, I'd christen the two bucks in my wallet and pray, Coulson thought. Aloud, he steered the conversation off the dash—where S.H.I.E.L.D.'s newest toys slept. "Should I stop at a supermarket and grab formula?"
"Make it motor oil," Li Feng snorted.
They traded nonsense all the way to the hospital.
Coulson led into a VIP suite. Happy Hogan—belly first—filled the doorway. Li Feng leaned, spotted Ben on the bed, and pitched his voice low. "Aren't you Stark's driver and bodyguard? He send you to visit Uncle Ben?"
Happy had seen Li Feng around even if they hadn't exactly shared coffee. He stepped aside. "Head of Security now. Mr. Parker reports to me. If my guy's in a hospital, I need details before I assign a temp." He toed the tile. "Also—for the record—Stark owns this hospital. I'm auditing security, not bringing flowers."
"Sounds right." Li Feng strolled in. "Let me guess—Stark bought it last night. Shame about the timing. Uncle Ben won't be staying."
Coulson melted into a corner. Li Feng crossed to the bed. A quiet pulse of will, and he read the injury under the sheet. "How's the leg, Uncle Ben?"
"A little numb. Otherwise fine." Ben glanced around the deluxe room and huffed. "First VIP room of my life. Feels… odd."
Aunt May came close, squeezed Ben's hand, looked at Li Feng with steady gratitude. "We know this is because of you. Even Ben's job at Stark. Austin… we don't know how to thank you."
Li Feng turned his palm. Soft light bloomed there. "You once invited me to dinner. I have a weakness for good food."
Magic ran faster than Ben could imagine. Feeling rushed back; the ache vanished. He pinched his thigh, eyes widening into a grin. "One meal won't cover that."
"Then brace yourself," Li Feng said lightly. "I'm famous for my appetite."
Across the room, Coulson touched his earpiece, listened, then clocked Peter Parker standing very still—eyes tracking the discreet sensors tucked into the crown molding. Coulson slid behind him with a mild smile. "Peter Parker, right?"
Peter arched a brow. Nodded.
"I think Mr. Parker's ready for discharge," Coulson said, flicking a look at the bed. "Could you help with the paperwork?"
Peter took a step, and Li Feng spoke without turning. "No need to send the kid out, Coulson. If he noticed, he noticed." He gestured lazily to the walls. "Stark told me he's figured out how to remove his chest-light and bought this hospital last night. I assumed you two were already collaborating—recording the energy signature of my healing spell. Correct?"
Happy's jaw worked. He glanced at Coulson. Collaborating was the polite version; Stark had donated a lot of gear.
"As for motive," Li Feng added, nodding toward Happy, "he wants healing on tap during surgery. Insurance."
On the bed, Ben and May traded a look—surprised, a little stung at being bait for someone else's hook.
"We didn't know," May said quickly, apologetic to Li Feng.
"It's fine," Li Feng said. "S.H.I.E.L.D. would learn my magic sooner or later. I'm just reminding them there's no need to monitor you."
He turned away from the sensors, already thinking ahead. The Darkhold hunt had started. And somewhere between a dying man's operating room and a book that broke minds, he'd have to keep every deal clean, every angle covered, and every friend—reluctant or not—alive.