Chapter Text
Tony didn't want to get up. It felt like the left side of his body had fused with the covers of his bed, the high thread count sheets leaving an imprint on his sleep warm skin. He threw an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the sun rays streaming through the windows FRIDAY had taken it upon herself to open. He groaned.
"The one time I manage to actually make it to my bed and sleep like a normal person, you have to open the windows at 7 AM like a farmer!" FRIDAY simply chuckled in her familiar Irish lilt.
"Sorry, boss. Your schedule appears to be very busy today, with meetings beginning at 8:30 AM. I figured waking you up an hour and a half early would give you time to, as Ms. Romanoff likes to say, 'get pretty'." Tony groaned again and contemplated throwing a pillow at the AI. He realized once again his efforts would be futile, seeing as how the AI was everywhere in the compound. He couldn't escape anywhere her eyes couldn't see, except maybe Banner's lab, as per his own requests. To some, an all-seeing robot would be a reason to be scared, but, for Tony, the feeling of having someone there for him constantly was more of a comfort than he cared to admit.
Eventually, Tony acquiesced to the AI's demands and untangled himself from the heap of blankets in his bed, also known as the only things making his forever empty bed seem smaller than it actually was. Tony could spread-eagle himself, all limbs stretched to maximum length, and he still had at least five feet to go before he reached the other end of the bed. Sometimes, late at night, the empty bed was yet another reminder that Tony had no one to share the bed with. It seemed everyone had someone except the inventor. 27 years on this planet, and he'd never had an intimate relationship that had lasted longer than a night.
He huffed and swung his legs onto the cold wooden floor. He stood up on shaky legs and walked to his ensuite bathroom. He removed his straight razor from its sheath, lathered shaving cream on his face and neck, and carefully guided the blade of the razor down the smooth contours of his face. He paid extra attention when his hand reached his jawline, gliding his razor along the stubbled curves of his face and now neck, careful to avoid nicking himself.
Satisfied with the clean shave he had given himself, Tony used a beige washcloth that matched his towels to wipe off the remaining lather. He reached for his muskily scented aftershave, pouring a quarter-sized amount into his calloused palm. He spread the cool cream between his hands and wiped it over his freshly shaved face and neck, stopping just above his cheekbones. He washed off the remaining product underneath the steady stream of hot water pouring from his tap. Tony shut it off and stalked over to his closet.
FRIDAY already had a freshly pressed Armani two-piece suit hanging on a wooden hanger in the large storage area. The suit was simple yet stylish, as per Tony's signature. The gray color of the suit was something similar to the graphite of a pencil, and the matching tie was a deep blue, almost black in color. He had preferred to dress in grays lately, for no reason other than fashion, but the media was having a spree, inane guesses about whether or not the drab wardrobe (and the missing signature Van Dyke beard) meant more. Tony couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. No alien invasions as of late left the media with nothing, and they had to fight for scraps like hungry dogs. He huffed and fastened the pants around his slender waist. He reached for a belt on the rack next to him and led it through his belt loops. He fastened the belt, shrugged on an undershirt, buttoned up a white shirt, and put on the suit jacket. Tony ran his hand through his hair and tried to put a smile on his face before he faced the other Avengers he knew were just waking up (farmers) and enjoying their breakfasts. He pushed open the heavy door and braved the day.
Tony knew sharing the compound with both Steve and Bucky would be difficult for him. Ever since the members on Steve's side of the "Civil War" (as the animalistic media enjoyed calling their fight) had received their pardons from the United States' government, Tony had been graciously housing them inside the compound, even going as far as replacing Bucky's metal arm with one that hurt the man less and giving Cap a new shield. He didn't know what more to do to resolve the tension between the three of them, but as far as Tony was aware, he had done everything in his power to make things less hard between them. But, that didn't stop both of America's favorite heroes from avoiding him like the plague. Every time the mechanic walked into a room, the two men would make a hasty excuse to leave, usually along the lines of, "Bucky's arm needs to be calibrated". Tony was damn sure the arm didn't need to be calibrated. After all, he had made the arm himself, and a Stark-made machine was likely to never need a tuneup.
As he suspected, the moment he walked into the kitchen, Steve gave him a once-over and set his coffee down on the counter. He grabbed Bucky's arm, startling him, and pulled him down the hallway, muttering something about a run before the day began. Tony ignored the fact that their running clothes already had sweat stains on them, and that Cap would never do something like indulging in caffeine (or any drink for that matter) before a run. It seemed the other patrons of the kitchen, including Nat, Clint, and Vision, knew this as well and looked at Tony with a mixture of apologetic and pitying glances. Tony hated that the looks were the only greeting he could muster out of the group.
"Good morning, comrades!" Tony quipped in his best everything-is-ok-and-I-don't-feel-like-shit voice. He could tell by the lingering looks on their faces that it hadn't worked. Natasha looked at him once more sadly before gesturing to the half-full coffeepot.
"There's still some left if you want any," she said weakly. "Steve makes the best coffee in the compound and, well, we all know how you run on the stuff." Tony smiled gratefully at her.
"Don't mind if I do!" He grabbed the largest mug out of the cupboard. Natasha was right about Steve and the coffee, even though Tony would never willingly admit the fact to the rest of the team. I'd rather lose a finger. Hell, all my fingers. He still had no idea how the drink could turn out so differently for the two of them, even though they had used the same machine and coffee beans to make it. Just Golden Boy's magic touch, Tony thought. "I'd love to stay for the gossip, ladies, but I have a meeting to get to!" He finished his sentence, already in the elevator. Vision looked confused at his misgendering and Clint just scowled. Tony had no idea why Clint was even awake this early. He tended not to get his lazy ass out of bed until noon at the earliest.
FRIDAY gave him his daily run-down as the elevator descended to the garage. "Today, boss, you have a meeting with Director Fury at 8:30, as you are already aware. You also have a meeting scheduled with Dr. Strange at his SHIELD headquarters residence at 1:00 PM." Tony paled when he remembered his meeting with the elusive Doctor Steven Strange. He had been putting the meeting off as long as he could, not wanting to face Strange's piercing gaze and funny speech. Tony had noticed that the doctor tended to speak in as long as words as possible. He suspected Strange spent every moment of his free time reading the dictionary, trying to find words to make him feel bigger than everyone else. So far, it had worked. It worked so well that Tony had begun to dread to meet the doctor. He had only meet Strange a few times before, not counting the times they had worked together to defend the planet from internal or external threats.
The settling of the moving box on the bottom floor of the compound and the corresponding soft chime of the elevator doors pulled Tony out of his stupor. He wasn't looking forward to the day ahead, but he needed to get through these meetings without a hitch. Fury had been questioning his mental stability lately as if he didn't receive enough of that from the media (Tony was beginning to realize he had a soft spot up his ass for the media). He knew he hadn't been running to the best of his abilities these past few months since the return of Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Scott, Sam, Bucky, and Steve. He had enjoyed the comfortable silence he had experienced in the fairly empty compound before Steve's side returned, surrounded by only Rhodey, Vision, and few others. Now that the rest of the team was back, Tony's life was more chaotic. The man had been ensuring everyone's comfort before his own, and what had he received in return? Sleepless nights and pitying gazes. What a great prize! He should take shitty care of himself more often. Oh wait, that's what he spent every moment of every day doing! What a wonderful life.
Tony shook his head to clear the image of the two of them out of his mind as he slipped into his relatively nondescript car. He was trying to draw as little attention to himself and SHIELD as he could. He was slightly aware that even driving a car in downtown New York City was enough to drive attention to himself, even if his car of choice was a sleek space gray Jaguar. New Yorkers and their hatred of cars. Tony didn't see what the fuss was all about. Driving recklessly was enough to take his mind off of all of the other reckless things he put himself through daily, especially on the battlefield. Tony sighed and flipped open the mirror in the visor, adjusting his tinted sunglasses in the small reflection. He flipped the visor closed, opened the garage door, and sped out of the garage as fast as he could. All this contemplation was making him late for his meeting.
Tony thought he would never wish the torture of a briefing with Fury on his worst enemy. Nick Fury was well known around SHIELD for being the most boring person to listen to during a meeting, the monotonous drone of his voice going in one ear and out the other. The former King of Boredom was Agent Phil Coulson, but unforeseen circumstances had removed him from the position. But, at least Coulson could see how his droning was irritating the unfortunate listeners. Fury just kept talking like he was the most interesting person in the world. Tony believed that crown was taken by him. No wonder his therapist had called him a narcissist, he thought to no one in particular.
"Stark? Are you listening to me?" Fury's sudden change of tone was the only thing drawing Tony out of his comatose state.
"Yes, Nicholas. I am. Now, what was it you were saying?" He asked with a smile dripping with the innocence that could only be procured by the guilty. Fury just rolled his eyes. He was used to Tony's antics concerning meetings. He knew the man hated to be cooped up in a drab office like this, they all did, but there were serious things they needed to discuss regarding rising tensions between North Korea and the United States. He was in the middle of asking Tony what the inventor thought about sending some automated peacekeepers (who, by the way, were much more friendly and unhackable than the Iron Legion) to inconspicuously spy on their leader and report concerning behavior back to the Americans. Fury had heard through the grapevine (aka FRIDAY) that Tony was working on something that would work for the American government's needs and was in the middle of pitching the idea to Tony.
"I was trying to ask you if you would consider furthering your endeavors into those robot peacekeepers I heard you were working on," Fury said. Tony's eyes widened and Fury thought the man might finally be paying attention, but his hopes were squashed when Tony opened his mouth again.
"And who exactly told you what I was working on? Was it FRIDAY again? I have got to keep you out of her coding! What an invasion of privacy." Fury just huffed, his annoyance with Stark increasing by the second.
"Whatever, Stark. I'll just send a run down to FRIDAY and she can do with it what she must, like actually making you pay one damn ounce of attention. Now, get out." Tony hopped out of his chair giddily.
"Goodbye, Nicholas!" He called over his shoulder as he practically bounded out of the office.
Tony checked his automated wristwatch on the way out of Fury's office. Was it really 1:00 already? Fury had managed to take up too many precious hours in Tony's day so far, and he thought it better to forget everything the senior man had said in order to not let him occupy a second more. He straightened and buttoned his suit jacket with the single silver embellishment sliding into the buttonhole with much more effort than Tony deemed necessary. Damn these suits! All fashion and no practicality. He walked along the sterile hallways, still grumbling about Fury and the suit until he reached Strange's office. Better to be early and unexpected than late and chastised. He rapped his knuckles against Strange's door twice. He hoped Strange was currently occupying the office. Tony knew he didn't have enough time to grab lunch and return in time for his meeting with the doctor. Tony's silent tapping of his (heeled) shoe against the smooth tile was interrupted when a tired-looking Strange pulled open the heavy mahogany door leading to his office. More like a cavern than an office, Tony thought to himself when the interior of the room revealed itself to be a dark room only illuminated by two or three weak lamps. The lamps turned out to be some of those Himalayan salt lamps old ladies collected from TJMaxx. Tony couldn't contain a small laugh which got him a sharp glare from Strange.
"Stark, if you're done laughing at my decorations, I would like for you to sit down," Strange said as he gestured to a beaten up couch in the corner of his office. Tony could barely see the location of the couch against the wall due to the blinds being drawn tightly shut.
Tony meandered over to the couch and dropped himself down with a slight thump and a shower of dust following this action. Tony coughed dramatically and Strange rolled his eyes at him. Strange shut the heavy door with his elbow and sat on the chair facing Tony. "I feel like this is some kind of therapy appointment or something, Strange. If I wanted to confess all my sins, don't you think I would do it in the presence of someone a bit more confidential, like a priest?"
"Stark," Strange sighed, "I do not have time for your theatrics. I was barely able to squeeze you in today. I should be at the Sanctum, and here I am sacrificing my time for you. Let us cut straight to the chase." Tony paled a bit. He wanted to give himself as much time as possible before actually confronting the reason why he had come to Strange for help.
He shivered uncomfortably and locked his eyes with Strange's stern gaze. "I wanted to talk to you about some dreams I've been having lately. I know you're no sort of mental health doctor or anything, but I think said dreams have something to do with magic or brain science, whatever it is you do." Strange nodded for him to continue. "Every time I shut my eyes, these dreams start. They always begin the same way. There's always a portal open, and I can see the Chitauri vehicles from the Battle of New York entering the atmosphere. At my feet, everyone is lying in a pool of their own blood. Everyone is dead, except for-," Tony shivered again and tried to blink the prickling feeling of tears from his eyes, "e-except for Steve. He pulls me closer and whispers 'You could- you could've saved us'." Tony's voice cracked as he recited the same sentence he'd been hearing in his dreams for going on 6 years now. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and he wasn't surprised to see that the sleeve was wet. Strange's gaze became more sympathetic, and he nodded again to encourage Tony to keep talking. "H-he then lets go of me and I can see him take his final breath, and the light goes out of his eyes. He's just left laying there next to everyone else, eyes open but dead and aimed at the sky." Tony's eyes were squeezed shut, the image of Steve's dead eyes filling up his head. He choked out a sob in the quiet room. "I just can't stand to see it anymore. I look at him and he looks away. He always avoids me and leaves as soon as I enter the room. I can't stand it anymore! I've pined after him for years and I finally thought he might've felt the same. He betrayed me. And every night in my dreams I see his cold, dead body. It's torture!" Tony's eyes were now brimming with salty tears. He tried to shut his eyes to keep them from escaping to no avail. "That damn witch put that dream in my head and now I can't get rid of it. I just need your help." Tony buried his head in his hands, letting the tears pour from his eyes. He knew he loved Steve. He always had and he was sure he always will, but seeing him turn him away during the day and seeing him die during the night was killing Tony. He honestly wasn't sure he could put up with it anymore.
"I just don't know what to do about it, Stephen. Every time I close my eyes, the vision of everyone I know and love flashes in front of my eyes like it's tattooed on the back of my eyelids," Tony struggled to say in between gasps for breath. "I just want it all to end."
Stephen looked at the man coming apart before him. Stark's head was buried in his hands but they did nothing to muffle the small sobs coming from his mouth, sounds of absolute desperation and despair. Stephen didn't know what to do to comfort the man, seeing as how they had only known each other for a few months, but he could tell the heavy blanket of anguish around the man was not going away any time soon. He knew he had to do something before Tony took matters into his own hands. He knew if that happened he'd have more than one pissed of superhuman on his tail.
"I think I can offer you an alternative," Stephen began. He paused to make sure he had captured Tony's attention and continued when Tony looked up at him warily. "I think there might be a way to send you into a different dimension, where you can correct your wrongs with the team and trick your subconscious into thinking that you have made amends with everyone, especially Captain Rogers. (Stephen had yet to meet the man, much less earn the rights to use his familiar name). I think that if you are able to contact the Captain in the dimension and hash out your worries, that it will trick the limbic system and the amygdala into thinking there is nothing to fear and that they no longer need to produce the dreams you are viewing during REM sleep." Stephen thought to himself that Stark hadn't enjoyed a nice night of REM sleep in a few years, judging by the deep plum carved out circles under his eyes. "Some parts of the frontal lobes are inactive during dreams, causing us to confuse reality with fantasy. I think that should you communicate with the Captain in the alternate dimension, that the active part of your brain during those dreams will recall the experience and produce a dream based on those memories instead of the ones the Scarlet Witch procured using the powers given to her by the mind stone." Stark wiped off his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket and made a weak attempt at cracking a joke.
"If I'm in this so-called 'alternate dimension', are you sure that my brain won't remember that it was just all some big magic thingy that you put me in? Won't my subconscious remember that what happened in the dimension wasn't real?" Tony asked.
Stephen paused a moment in thought and then answered Tony's question. "Well, like I said earlier, the limbic system controls dreams, but it also controls memories. The amygdala happens to be a major player in both cranial functions. When-if you go to the alternate dimension, your memory will recall the events but it won't be strong enough during sleep to recall that the events were planned. Once the memory has made its way into storage, the active part of your brain during dreams won't be able to tell the difference. The conscious part of your brain will be able to tell, but only outside of the dreams. I do highly recommend that you make amends with Captain Rogers in both your subconscious and conscious for your own personal well being, though." Tony snorted at Stephen.
"Do you really think that if I could say something to the man that I would've by now? Every time I walk into the room, he makes some dumbfuck excuse for him and that cyborg to leave. I'm barely lucky enough to get those other Team Cap members to even acknowledge me; the one who oh-so-generously supplies their room and board and any other demands they might need me to fill. Lately, I'm feeling like it's futile to even try to make up with those bastards. Nevertheless, I do everything in my power to make their stay at the Avengers compound as comfortable and incognito from the US government as possible! If Ross found out half the shit they’ve done, he'd shit his pants in excitement and throw us all back into that damn Raft." Tony's face had become flushed during his ranting and arm waving at Stephen. He opened his mouth to add another crack at the Avengers but snapped it shut when Stephen held up a hand, signaling no more.
"Stark, I want to do all that I can to help you, but you can't be back to normal if you don't try to fix your situation with Captain Rogers, Sargeant Barnes, and the rest of the Avengers. You're only going to be fixing half of the problem if you decide to venture out to the alternate dimension. You need to fix all of it to be whole again." Tony's eyes widened when he let Stephen's words sink in. He began to think about the camaraderie and easy banter he had had with the rest of the team, and how he had begun to miss Natasha's all-seeing eyes, or Clint's witty sarcastic humor, or Wanda's curiosity to learn, or Wilson's solid presence, or Lang's passion for science, or, or, or Steve's passion for his team members, his broad shoulders, his Brooklyn accent, his Boy Scout etiquette, his determination, his persistence, his compassion, his bravery- Tony could go on for days listing off all the Captain's admirable traits. His heart yearned to be near him again, to wake up to the smell of bacon in the morning and watch those chiseled arm muscles do something as mundane as flip a piece of frying meat. You never know what you have until it's gone.
But, every rose had its thorns. Steve could sure as hell be an arrogant and stubborn asshole. He was a do-gooder who thought the world was always black and white, right and wrong. Tony had learned the hard way that not everything had such solid borders. He had always tried to stay on one side or another, but these past few years he had been living more in the grey area. His fight with Steve was one of the examples of the times the Captain could be so sure of the difference between right and wrong. Steve had thought that the right thing to do in that situation was to run from Tony and keep Bucky as far out of his grip as possible. Tony had never intended to turn the man into the authorities. He had just wanted to talk to him and Steve and figure out the best way to go about signing the Sokovian Accords from there, to see if they could possibly add an amendment or two regarding the wellbeing of the formerly HYRDA soldier. Tony had experienced firsthand the way someone (Wanda) could come back from the extensive programming HYDRA had built into their minds and was ready to offer the use of his Binarily Augmented Retro Framing (BARF) device for Bucky, but Steve had attacked and left Tony with no option of calling a truce. It was true he hadn't been prepared to after he saw the video of the Winter Soldier killing Howard and his mother. He hadn't been prepared to see the way his mother had actually died, much less in the company of the man who had committed the crime and the man he trusted who had withheld it from him. Tony didn't honestly think anyone would've been prepared to see that. However, Tony was prepared to forgive him. He just wanted his life back to normal. He wanted Steve back to normal. Every time he made one of his getaways, a blade of ice shot through Tony's heart and broke it over and over. It was becoming too much to bear. So much that Tony would cut off both of his legs just for Steve to look at him again. That's a bit much, Tony thought silently.
"I don't know if all your magic shit will actually work on a mind as fucked-up and out of the ordinary as mine, but I'm willing to try everything once," Tony said into the silent room. In this particular situation, I'm willing to try it until my brain explodes. Anything to get him back.