WHAT Time to get everyone home! WHERE Civitas WHEN May 10th WARNINGS Emotions, lotsa magic, Stephen's Magical Girl Transformation™ as he bonds with the time stone
In the very smack dab middle of Civitas, there was that palace - adorned with all sorts of jewels and gold that seemed to outshine the sun, alight by its rays. Even at night it had been an impressive sight, starlight kissing the sky which resembled a black basilica - Stephen could appreciate the views but he had to admit that nice views didn’t exactly make up for the fact that most of them didn’t belong in this time period. Not when everyone was so cushy back (forward?) in the year 2021, with creature comforts aplenty - food you could just pop into the microwave, hot showers, and the wondrous invention known as McFlurries.
He’d ensured that the time stone - as soon as it was revealed that one of the current, local covens was attempting to harness its power - returned to his hands, after some swift negotiating and containing the infinity gem (in its raw form) within a specially created device. Conveniently, the Eye of Agamotto wasn’t anywhere in sight though clearly all of this would have all been easier - and less dragon-filled - if the stone had been in its correct containment device, one created by the first Sorcerer Supreme. But, well, when were things ever easy in this life?
Never. Hence why now he was here, in the middle of the day, wearing an outfit that looked somewhat similar to the wardrobe one might find those dressed in at Kamar-Taj - a tunic (this one was probably a kyrtill, if we wanted to get technical) over trousers, and leg wraps that went down into boots. And he was ready to send everyone home, everyone who had gathered in this specific location.
The time stone was kept in a golden ball, which Stephen currently carried with him in a drawstring bag since none of his clothes had pockets. His nerves felt like they were buzzing, traveling along an electric current and simultaneously jolting and also twisting up into knots - the last time he did this time spell he had stopped Dormammu’s zealots from destroying Earth, and received more than a finger wag from Mordo since breaking time seemed to offend his sensibilities. Honestly, Stephen had no idea what would happen now. He just knew he had to get everyone home.
“Okay,” he exhaled, glancing at Wanda - who was with him for this, for everything, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I guess it’s time.” There was a joke to be made here, he was sure of it.
An Infinity Stone, here. Wanda felt nostalgic about it in the most sardonic way. She had sensed that pull the moment they woke up, hauled backwards into the historical beginnings of Vallo - the piece of the Mind Stone existing in her reacting to another. Back home the stones had been destroyed, then yanked from different points in time to ultimately be returned as part of a complex heist to save their reality (or so she’d been updated, she had been one of the many dusted ones).
One making the trek from a different reality to this one, like it was searching for its home or maybe someone - it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, though it had been a surprising revelation. It explained literally everything that had transpired. It was also their ticket back to the present where they rightfully belonged.
“I think that was a pun?” Wanda offered with a gentle smile, a scrunch of her nose. Her threads to blend into this world weren’t exactly Civitas specific - turns out that the Scarlet Witch ensemble that her magic fabricated blended in quite well with how primal things were this early on in history. Thankfully it was very comfortable. “We’re ready, though.”
She and Stephen had stuck together in the beginning of all this, and she was determined that they stay together until the very end of it too.
“Puns? I don’t know her,” Stephen replied, with humor as dry as a finely crafted martini. Maybe he should just get on with this though. Everyone was counting on him to use this damn thing - even if he knew that harnessing the power of an infinity stone was similar to trying to throw a bridle over a creature like Cthulhu and calling it a day. Agamotto specifically created the Eye to keep the time stone in check, to allow the Masters of the Mystic Arts to actually use their greatest asset without suffering detrimental effects. Like being shredded into a thousand tiny pieces or, you know - death.
He took a deep breath, unearthing the golden ball from its pouch - holding it in his hand, he let it hover above the palm with a flex of magic and then played church, steeple, here’s all the people with his fingers (not quite that game, but close enough in its movements); it was what he would have done if the stone was in the Eye of Agamotto, to get the artifact to open. And it worked, at first - with a click, he heard the ball separate and then it revealed the time stone, illuminating a radioactive green so bright the spectral glow of it was mesmerizing. The geometric patterns in that same verdant shade shimmered into existence, and Stephen carefully wound the shapes like they were clocks - going forward, not back.
And then - nothing.
It was like he lost control of it, a rubber band snapping back (or a petulant teenager slamming the door on his hopes and dreams - he got that vibe from an angry infinity stone). The green shapes dissipated, the spell not even close to getting off the ground - and he let out a slew of curse words. “I can’t do this,” he huffed, feeling the exhaustion finally begin to set in on him and sink into his bones. The exhaustion and the stress, and the realization that he wasn’t good enough. That the Ancient One had been wrong about damn near everything - he wasn’t meant to be the best of us, he was just some former neurosurgeon asshole desperate to find a purpose again after his entire life was literally shattered.
Having him be so close to the stone admittedly wrangled her nerves. Wanda knew firsthand what exposure to one could do - several people died before her when it came to the Mind Stone, she’d been an anomaly that survived (now she had a better idea as to why that was), and she was sure the only reason Pietro survived had to do with that latent chaos magic leaking out in response to her desperate want in making sure he was protected.
And, yes, each stone was finicky and had their quirks. Obviously she didn’t know this one - that privilege was meant for Stephen - but she’d held her breath when it came out of the ball, her own fingers twitching as if she were on the precipice of casting something as a failsafe (just in case). Wanda didn’t get that far. Not only had they not even discussed it, his attempt didn’t work. The magic that began to heat the air sizzled into nothing, the light it all conjured gone and there was the stone, floating stubbornly.
I can’t do this.
“Hey.” Without even a second thought her hands surged forward, capturing his scarred ones into hers because when she needed something to ground her (when her magic ran rampant and she was feeling lost), this had helped. She didn’t know if it would work for him or if this was even welcomed but she was trying. “You can do this. Talk to me.”
He was never this bad, this lost - but Stephen felt like he was about to have a panic attack right now. If he was in the Sanctum he’d lock himself away, as he did on those days when his hands hurt so badly it felt like thunder and lightning in the joints where the pins and steel held everything together - he’d practice spells without the hand movements, making sure he repeated to himself that it was all about intent, intent, intent.
He’d flee using astral projection, like how he used to do in New York City - following people on the street, sitting in museums, watching the ripple of the Hudson pass him by. But he couldn’t flee right now, he had nowhere to go - he just had Wanda, anchoring him to this world. This life.
Stephen inhaled slowly while the time stone still hovered in the air - it was glowing right at him, as if waiting for the next move. “It wants the Eye of Agamotto,” he said, holding Wanda’s hands in his own - her touch was warm, soothing. The way heat always soothed his hands. “But I don’t - have it here.” The Eye was like a security blanket for the time stone - which made sense, because it had remained in that device for eons. Decades, centuries, even further back than this.
“And I can’t be what it wants. I can’t be what anyone wants.”
“Stephen,” Wanda gravely began, tightening her grip in his hands. Clearly not anything painful but it was a firm, secure hold as she looked at him dead in the eyes. “Fuck anyone’s expectations.”
Yes, that included the expectations of this infuriatingly powerful rock that was with its pulsing, emerald glow that seemed to be taunting him like some petulant child. It wanted the Eye of Agamotto - really? It was unfortunate that she couldn’t slap it. Gently, she tugged Stephen towards her more. “That has never stopped you from doing what needs to be done. You know what that takes - you know more than anyone. From Dormammu to Thanos, you are a big part of the reason as to why we’re all back.”
Whether it was putting his life on the line to endure all those deaths, knowing that it would take needing to do away with half of the universe first in order to win in the end - Wanda couldn’t imagine what it was like to make those decisions but he’d made them. Not many would or even could. “We don’t get to choose the roles we get sometimes but there is a reason why you are in this one. You can do this. You can bring us home.”
No, they didn’t get to choose - he’d said something like that to her before, hadn’t he? Because Stephen hadn’t been ready for taking on the monumental task of saving the world from being devoured, swallowed whole by Dormammu - whatever god was out there (up there) knew he hadn’t been. Likely she hadn’t been ready, or expecting, to be molded into the likes of the Scarlet Witch either - but here they were.
“One thing,” he smirked tiredly, letting Wanda pull him closer. They collided, but it sort of served to push him out of his frazzled state of mind a bit - where his thoughts were going like a carousel on fire, ‘round and ‘round. “One thing, I’d like to choose. Eventually. Okay - “
His fingers relaxed and he released hers but stayed close as he turned to look at the stupid infinity stone - they had fragments of a soul (in their own way - it was inexplicable, but those who wielded them knew it to be true), they were sentient, each one an aspect of the universe and containing so much power in one tiny gem-like rock. “I don’t need you,” he said out loud, and those words? They actually surprised him.
But it was true. Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme in all but the name - even without the time stone, he continued to protect the world from threats. He’d been rendered ash and dust like so many of them but as soon as he returned, he went right back to his duty. The world was still trying to right itself, and the multiverse in general was cracking all over and beginning to resemble a spider’s web, yet he was still giving his all. He had to - he couldn’t stop. Not for the time stone, not for anything.
“I don’t need you - and you don’t need me. But maybe - we can still work together and do what we were meant to do. We can get everyone home.” Watoomb, he was talking to a glowing rock - and, oddly enough, mesmerized by it at the same time.
It beckoned him. Told him to put his money where his mouth was - if they were expected to work together as one, they had to be one. So he took another breath and reached out, shaky fingers mere centimeters from touching his potential doom.
One thing. Wanda noted that - it wasn’t unreasonable. Truthfully, he deserved more than that but that luxury wasn’t always meant for people like them. Wanting didn’t always equate with what needed to be done. It was a burden that came with his mantle, perhaps hers too (not that she had a list of duties as the Scarlet Witch besides the self-imposed don’t fuck with reality that was currently number one).
But maybe they could work on finding a balance, too.
Wanda kept herself in his orbit, mouth slightly quirked in amusement (maybe with a hint of pride) and Stephen stood his ground against that cosmic stone. Attempting to reason with it was an interesting route - and really, what else could he do? Not like he could force it to bend to his will right off the bat. That method had already failed.
And then Stephen went to reach for it. A surge of panic lit her nerves because those stones couldn’t, shouldn’t be touched. Close exposure to one was risky in itself, he knew better. “Stephen, wait -”
What lit up next were her eyes, from baby blues to that dangerous red as that same red rippled across her fingers, a ripple and crackle of magic coming to existence. Wanda hadn’t done this with intention before. Agatha had said it was why the bomb hadn’t gone off at their apartment all those years ago, that it wasn’t faulty - and it was how Pietro survived when others didn’t back in Sokovia. It was chaos, the power to gamble with probability and make the scales tip the way she wanted them to.
You won’t die was what was projected, the words perhaps worming its way into his head as that telepathic link may have not been exactly severed, and it was that intent she was making into reality. I won’t let you.
Later on, Stephen would be grateful that part of his lessons with Wanda involved probability and chaos - mathematics, really, and it was all fairly dry stuff. But useful - and he knew what she was doing as soon as she told him to wait. He did, barely, but then a moment later her words washed over him and he felt the truth in them - seared in with a hot iron and clanging like cathedral bells. They were what gave him that last nudge to cradle the time stone in his hand and hold the fuck on.
It wasn’t easy. Power surged through him, a riptide - bolts of lightning that were neon electric and so very green. Magic went rippling up over his arms, bracelets and rings stacking all on top of each other and then wrenching him into a kaleidoscopic trip through multiple timelines that lasted both an eternity and about six seconds. He didn’t stop to make heads or tails of anything - there was only a hazy fog also in that emerald shade, mists of time enveloping him in their arms as he harshly, dangerously flickered in and out of the moment.
He probably ended up with more gray hair, streaked at his temples. His clothes definitely changed too - briefly, just a glimpse of it before they shifted back to his current outfit. Accents of gold more pronounced than they had been on his usual attire - and a new crest on his robe, a chest emblem, Sorcerer Supreme.
Though he had to pull himself out of it - he had to pull back so he did, forcing himself to cast the correct spell again. This time, it didn’t falter. This time, the green geometric patterns materialized and glowed like beacons - he let go of the stone and grabbed hold of the circular Mandelas, with another flex of magic, and turned them into the correct direction. Forward, not back. “It’s working,” he told Wanda, trapping the infinity stone in the golden ball again. And it didn’t protest - it would have what it wanted soon enough. “Hang onto me.”
Already, the spell’s effects could be seen - time was beginning to surge ahead, their surroundings blurred and changing, like someone pressed the fast forward button on the remote. Stephen watched the tornado chase itself, and they were right in the middle of it - he secured his arm around Wanda’s waist, because he wasn’t about to let go of her. Not for this.
Wanda had known she had to brace herself - that display of magic was like an explosion, fanning out all around them and briefly blinding. For a split second she felt her heart catch in her throat because what if, what if it didn’t take but it was a blip of emotion that easily disintegrated. Because it did take and instead of being ripped apart atom by atom due to the sheer power of the stone, Stephen connected to it. He had held it in his hands and lived. He did it.
After that, everything around them shifted and changed and - were they moving? Without actually moving? Wanda could hardly tell, but she didn’t need to be told twice about anchoring herself to him. Her arms circled his waist tight, eyes squinting as she tried to assess how the scenery around them began to shift. Glimpses of areas evolving overtime, some being torn down and rebuilt and it was like a display of history was passing all around them too fast to even fully comprehend.
Then, when time finally stood still, they were home. Smackdab at the center of the Sanctum where it appeared untouched and unchanged, just like they’d left it.
“It worked,” Wanda breathed out with relief. Now it really was just them, void of the sea of outlanders that surrounded them at distance waiting to join them too. “Everyone’s - back?” Yes, they were. She could feel others here, the threads of existence that were Tommy and Billy and Peter. Erik, Anna, Anka Irene too.
They were back. Everyone was back - and, admittedly, Stephen felt like he’d just run a triathlon while wearing cement boots; he was surprised he was still upright. His muscles ached, his bone marrow ached, even the follicles of his hair ached - but he was alive, and present, with Wanda tucked against his side (similar to when they’d woken up spooning after her retro gaffe but not like either of them mentioned it or anything).
“They’re all here,” he confirmed - though as Mordo would be quick to point out, messing with time like that definitely carried some consequences. Hopefully none were so dire that this universe was breaking too - he could only deal with one breaking multiverse at a time, thanks, and he knew he’d have his hands full back home. “And - “
He looked down, noting the glow at the center of his chest - where the familiar necklace that was the Eye of Agamotto lay, the time stone nestled inside. And he was exhausted but he managed the touch of fingers and the correct gestures, at least, to let the eye close - it clicked shut, rest now; after being passed around between two covens who had no idea how to even use an infinity gem, maybe this petulant thing had earned a sleep of its own.
“This is back too,” he chuckled. “Thank you - “ Stephen glanced at Wanda, fondness even in the fatigue of his gaze. “I guess I owe you one now.” Or several.
“You don’t,” Wanda promised, maybe not having completely realized that a hand had traveled up a bit - settled right under where the Eye of Agamotto rested - because she was a bit busy glancing back up at him. It was with relief. And fondness, too.
Then it occurred to her that perhaps she was staring at him too much, and the grip on him loosened (there was no reason she needed to be holding onto him that tightly now, right?) but she remained near. Stephen looked tired. It had been a long week - hell, that entire ordeal had been edging close to two weeks - and it wasn’t as if rest had been an indulgence. In the aftermath of it all, surely there wasn’t much that needed to be done. People were settling back home, reuniting with those they were separated with, and they could mosey back into some semblance of normalcy again.
Her hand patted his chest gently. “Come on, Sorcerer Supreme - let me take you to bed?” Or - wait. Wanda thought that may have sounded a little weird now that she had said it outloud but she wasn’t about to act awkwardly about it, no. She was an adult. “You could use some rest. I’ll even tuck you in.”
Let her do what now?
Oh. Oh, right, yes - granted, it took Stephen a second to get his brain back online (barely - it was already connected with only one figurative power bar anyway at this point) after Wanda offered to take him to bed. What did it say about him that he probably would have entertained every meaning of the phrase, were he not feeling like he wanted to shutter all the windows and, for once, 'just say no' to letting his astral form go on a book binge while the physical form rested?
Well, anyway. They were both clearly exhausted, was the point. And loopy. "Alright," he laughed a little, not bothering with the sling ring either - he just took the stairs, up to the master bedroom which fit the theme of the Sanctum. The goth theme that is, the color scheme dark but also with some velvety purples - the color of royalty and comfort. He hadn't changed much when he moved in, nor had he changed the bookcase door connecting to the library on this floor either. That could stay.
He sat on the edge of the bed, debating for a second before just leaving the Eye of Agamotto where it was - it wouldn't choke him in his sleep, so it'd be fine. Though he at least swapped out these clothes for comfier ones (he could burn the ancient Vallo clothes, that was doable) in a blink of transfiguration magic. “You’ll stay just until I fall asleep?” he asked, since she probably had people she wanted to check on.
Wanda’s own clothes changed too. That scarlet, almost electric energy passed through her garbs to change it from Scarlet Witch to just… her. A comfortable shirt and cardigan, black jeans. Loose curls for her hair again instead of that crinkled, untamed sort of look that seemed to fit with that chaos aesthetic.
“As if you have to ask,” she chuckled and nudged him into the mattress. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done this, and he never hesitated to keep her company while she’d gone through her own motions - she wasn’t going to hesitate either. That had been a lot. Stephen seemed to have bonded, with the stone? That’s the gist she got, what that small, existing piece of the Mind Stone living in her seemed to communicate.
Next to him was where she comfortably settled, even borrowing one of his pillows. “I know I may have said fuck expections,” she started, the remainder of her Sokovian accent making that statement sound oddly amusing. “But I’m proud of you.”
Stephen made himself comfortable, and Wanda was free to use his pillows - any pillows, all his pillows, he didn’t care. Her statement made him huff a short little chuckle as he reached for her hand, just a loose hold as he laid there on his back and closed his eyes - she was free to let go once he nodded off (wouldn’t take much, honestly) but he thought the connection would help before he fell into the darkness of a good sleep.
Though there was that word again - proud. Her saying the Ancient One would have been proud of him, that day they sat by the water and talked about the ones they’d lost, made him shed a tear but he didn’t cry now - just kind of felt like maybe it was true. “I’m proud of you too,” he said, in case no one had mentioned that to Wanda recently. She had her lion’s share of bullshit to deal with recently as well - but she’d pushed through it and fixed any blunders inadvertently caused. She was continuing to build a life here without sacrificing the memories of her loved ones, or forgetting them - that was what they would have wanted for her too, he was certain of it.
“Maybe we’ll have a normal week soon.” Whatever normal even was anyway.
There was space to spread out in the bed, but Wanda opted to remain close by - on her side facing him, knees curled, head cushioned onto the stolen pillow. She didn’t mind him finding her hand to hold. His was held back, though the way she returned the grip was a little tighter. It was the relief still, that he had survived confronting the stone.
“Maybe,” she said, lightly shrugging her one shoulder that wasn’t pushed against the bed. “But if we’re going to constantly endure some unusual ones then I’m at least happy for the company I have through it.”
That included her original Avengers team, and the mish-mosh family she’d somehow stumbled upon from different timelines - and then, of course, Stephen. Who fell under a category of his own, Wanda wasn’t even sure what to label it. But he’d been stubbornly with her through just about every high and low since her time here, and she had a difficult time imagining things here without him. “Now rest. I will make sure to get your favorite takeout tonight to celebrate.”
They could sit on the couch, vegetate and process with some kind of greasy cuisine. They’ve earned it.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d sleep for but it would be a deep sleep no matter what - Stephen was on his way. And since he knew Wanda was still here (he could sense her and, not only that, continued to keep a hold on her) - that made it easier for him to drift off. “Spicy,” was all he said next, in a groggy mumble, probably referring to the takeout - it was nonsensical, but whatever. She got the point.
Then he was as good as passed out, floating away on some cumulonimbus clouds - behind his eyelids he still saw green, until it finally faded away and he saw nothing at all. Just darkness. Just an abyss, and he fell into it gladly.