Stringless (IronStrange)

Part 3

'Yes, doctor. He has pain and regular stiff muscles concerning this arm, it has been wounded in previous fights.'

'With Thanos?' Stephen remembered.

'And fights before that. I wasn't in use with the Iron Man suit before the creation of Ultron, but I have accessed files of my predecessor, of JARVIS.'

'Alright, I'm going to put you down while I work.' He placed Tony's glasses on the bedside table, looking over Tony's body and wondering where to start.

The damage was simple enough to fix, leaving Stephen a little unsteady on his feet with the drain on his magic. Not wanting to pass out alongside Tony, he retreated to his bathroom, returning with a bowl of warm water and cloth. His touch gentle, he wiped much of the sweat and grime and blood away, applying dressings to his wounds and binding them carefully with bandages.

Tony was lost in his fever dreams the whole time, tossing his head, half-formed words on his lips. He sat carefully next to the injured man on the bed, taking his head into his lap as he set to cleaning the gash on his cheek.

Tony's eyes snapped open, his pupils huge.

'Stephen?'

'One and only.'

Tony's hands shot out, gripping his arm painfully. 'I'm sorry, I was late, I tried to make it, I had to save them, I had to go, I'm sorry-'

'Hey, hey shush, it's alright. If duty calls, then duty calls we can reschedule.' Stephen whispered, leaving the wound to stroke his hand through Tony's hair, lightly scratching the scalp.

'Leaving.' The word lilted at the ending, Tony was asking a question.

'No, I'm here.' It was like talking to a drunk, Stephen had no uncertainties that Tony wouldn't remember this in the morning, his pupils still wide, trapped in delusions because of his pain. He stroked his trembling hands over Tony's shoulders and upper arms, willing Tony to calm. 'I'm not mad, I'm still here,' he kept reassuring.

When Tony stilled, Stephen went back to the wound in his cheek. 'It needs stitches,' he mused to himself. Bringing magic into his fingertips, curing amber sparks flowing from him to Tony, he concentrated, willing the muscle and skin to knit back together.

A strangled yell jolted him, and his body was flung to the floor. By the time he scrambled up, Tony was out of the bed and crouched on the floor, a half-formed gauntlet on his hand.

'Get away from me,' he hissed, his breathing laboured.

'Tony,' Stephen got to his feet carefully, hands held palm up. 'I'm just healing your wounds.'

Brown eyes were murky, his body unwilling to concede. Stephen could see Tony's pulse leaping in the skin of his throat, sweat staining the gray of his undersuit, turning it black. He knew it wasn't only the fever making him perspire.

Taking a tentative step forwards, he flung a shield up as he heard the whirring of a repulsor. Not a shot to harm, a warning. Tony fell to one knee with a pained grunt, his hand still outstretched, cheeks burning red.

'Stay...outta... head,' he rasped.

'Tony, it's me, I swore I wouldn't do that you. I was only healing your cheek, I swear it.' Stephen made his voice as soothing and as steady as he could. He'd dealt with confused and potentially dangerous patients before. Saturday nights in ER were rife with them, but he'd never felt concerned for them, never felt his heart ache because they didn't trust him.

'FRIDAY?' Tony called.

'Doctor Strange's magic was biological. He's telling you the truth. There were no malignant or subconscious elements to the energy that I could sense.'