Curiosity Killed the Cat...

The next few minutes were chaos. Stephen led the charge, his panther form tearing through the guards with brutal efficiency while Tony followed close behind, using the suit's remaining weapons to cover their escape. Yinsen stayed in the middle, protected by both of them as they moved toward the gates.

Stephen used his magic sparingly, just enough to enhance his senses and movements without drawing too much attention. He conjured small bursts of wind to disarm guards, subtle illusions to confuse them, and shields of shimmering energy to block incoming fire. It was enough to tip the scales in their favor, but not enough to reveal the full extent of his power.

By the time they reached the edge of the compound, the guards were in disarray, their ranks broken and their morale shattered. Stephen stopped just outside the gates, where the cars were, his chest heaving as he turned to face Tony and Yinsen, his growling voice low and commanding. "The cars. Go."

Tony hesitated, his gaze flicking between the panther and the guards regrouping behind them. "You want us to just leave you here?"

Stephen bared his teeth in a silent snarl. "I'll cover you. Move."

Tony didn't argue this time. With Yinsen's help, he lumbered toward the nearest vehicle, the suit's joints groaning with every step. Yinsen's hands shook as he helped Tony pry the door open, his wide eyes darting back to Stephen every few seconds. "What about—?"

"I'll handle it," Stephen growled, cutting him off.

Behind them, the guards were rallying, their weapons raised as they aimed for the escaping trio. Stephen's heart pounded as he turned back to face them, his body coiled and ready. He could see a glint of metal in one of the attackers' hands—a grenade launcher, its barrel pointed directly at the car.

Not today, Stephen thought, his blue eyes narrowing.

With a flick of his paw, he reached out with his magic, the invisible threads of telekinesis snapping the grenade launcher's trajectory upward. The weapon fired, but instead of hitting its intended target, the explosive arced back toward the guards, detonating with a deafening roar. The ground shook, and a cloud of dust and debris swallowed the men in an instant.

"Nice trick," Tony muttered under his breath as he climbed into the driver's seat, the suit groaning as it settled into the cramped space.

"Less talking, more driving!" Yinsen snapped, already halfway inside the car.

Stephen turned to follow them, his powerful legs carrying him toward the vehicle in long, graceful strides. But just as he reached the door, a sharp, searing pain shot through his back leg. He stumbled, a strangled growl escaping his throat as he collapsed onto the sand. Blood stained his black fur, the bullet lodged deep but mercifully avoiding anything vital.

"The cat!" Yinsen's voice was panicked as he scrambled out of the car, rushing to the panther's side. Tony followed, his movements sluggish as he dragged himself free of the vehicle.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Tony muttered, his gaze flicking between the wounded panther and the guards beginning to regroup in the distance. "We don't have time for this."

Yinsen ignored him, his hands trembling as he tried to lift Stephen's massive form. "Come on," he urged, his voice strained. "We can't leave you here."

Stephen groaned, his sharp teeth bared in pain as he struggled to push himself upright. He was too heavy, his panther form too large for them to move without slowing their escape. The timeline was already in tatters, and now his foolishness was threatening to unravel it further.

You've done enough damage, he thought bitterly.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate, his body shimmering as he shrank back into the form of a small, black cat. The pain in his leg didn't fade, but it was easier to manage now, his smaller body light enough for him to leap onto the seat of the car without assistance.

Tony and Yinsen stared at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Tony repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief.

"Later," Stephen rasped, his voice faint but audible as he curled into a small ball on the seat. "Just drive."

.

The car roared to life, its engine sputtering but functional as Tony slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. The vehicle lurched forward, kicking up a spray of sand as it sped toward the horizon. Behind them, the compound grew smaller and smaller, the shouts of the guards fading into the distance.

Stephen lay in the backseat, his injured leg stretched out awkwardly as he tried to catch his breath. Yinsen sat beside him, his hands trembling as he rummaged through the supplies they'd stolen, searching for something—anything—that could be used to treat the wound.

"You're bleeding," Yinsen said softly, his voice heavy with concern.

Stephen huffed, his blue eyes half-lidded as he glanced up at the older man. "I'll survive."

Tony's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his breathing uneven as the car bounced over the uneven terrain. The Iron Man suit was cramped inside the vehicle, its size and bulk making it difficult for him to maneuver. Stephen could feel the strain he was in, and he knew something was wrong.

Yinsen knew too, if only by the sharp hisses Tony started to let out.

"Stark," Yinsen said cautiously. "What's happening?"

"It's overheating," Tony muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "The suit wasn't built for this—too much strain on the power systems. I need to get out of it."

"Now?" Yinsen asked, his voice rising in alarm. "We're in the middle of the desert, with armed men chasing us!"

Tony slammed the brakes, the car skidding to a stop in a cloud of dust. "I don't have a choice," he snapped, already fumbling with the latches and bolts that held the suit together. "If this thing shuts down while I'm wearing it—or worse, it explodes—we're all screwed."

Yinsen climbed out to help, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation. Together, they worked to free Tony from the suit, piece by piece, until he finally stepped out, his body drenched in sweat and his movements sluggish. The suit lay in the sand, its gray metal scorched and battered, steam rising from the exposed joints.

"We have to leave it," Tony said, his voice heavy with regret. "It's dead weight now."

Yinsen nodded, glancing back toward the horizon where the faint glint of approaching vehicles was just visible. "We need to move. Now."

Tony climbed back into the driver's seat, his movements stiff but determined. Yinsen followed, pulling Stephen into his lap as the cat curled against him, his injured leg twitching with pain.

.

The car roared back to life, speeding across the desert as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon. Behind them, the Iron Man suit lay abandoned, its charred frame half-buried in the sand, a silent testament to the chaos of the night.

Stephen lay still in Yinsen's lap, his breathing slow and uneven as exhaustion finally caught up with him. His injured leg twitched with each bump in the road, but the pain was distant now, dulled by the overwhelming fatigue that weighed down his body. Yinsen's hands were gentle as they cradled him, but Stephen barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere—focused on the tangled mess of the timeline he had just shattered.

He knew he'd changed it irrevocably. Yinsen was alive, the suit was gone and intact, and Tony's escape had been messier, harder than it was supposed to be. The threads of fate had shifted, the ripple effects already spreading through the web of time. Stephen could feel it, a faint but persistent hum in the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch. The timeline was trying to adjust, trying to compensate for what he had done, and he had no idea what consequences would come of it.

But as the compound faded into the distance, Stephen closed his eyes, his injured body finally relaxing. Yinsen was alive. Tony was alive. And for now, that was enough.

He couldn't bring himself to regret his choice, even if he should.

Minutes passed in silence, the sound of the engine and the crunch of tires over sand the only noise as the desert stretched endlessly before them. Yinsen remained quiet, his hand resting gently on Stephen's side, but Tony's fidgeting was impossible to ignore. The man's frustration was palpable, his fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel, his sharp gaze flicking toward the rearview mirror every few seconds.

Stephen opened one eye, his blue gaze catching Tony's reflection. "If you have something to say, Stark, just say it."

Tony's grip tightened on the wheel. "Fine. Who the hell are you?"

Stephen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pushed himself upright, his injured leg trembling as he shifted into a more comfortable position on Yinsen's lap. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flicking to the horizon before closing again. He didn't have the energy for this.

Instead of answering, he turned his focus inward, letting his senses stretch toward the tangled web of time. It wasn't the same as having the Time Stone, but his years as its guardian had left him attuned to the flow of events. He could feel the fractures in the timeline now, the ripples spreading outward from the choices he had made.

His brow furrowed as he concentrated, his breathing slowing as he traced the threads of fate. The echoes of what should have been were still there, faint but stubborn, clinging to the edges of the timeline like ghosts. Yinsen's death was one of them—a fixed point that had been uprooted, its absence leaving a jagged hole in the fabric of reality.

Stephen grimaced, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He let out a low growl, his voice a rough whisper. "Damned timeline."

Tony glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. "What?"

Yinsen looked down at him, concern etched into his tired features. "What's wrong?"

Stephen's tail flicked irritably, his patience snapping like a thread pulled too tight. He pushed himself off Yinsen's lap, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg as he settled on the seat beside him. His gaze burned with an intensity neither man had seen before, the weight of centuries of responsibility and regret shining through in that moment.

"The problem," Stephen said, his voice low but sharp, "is that you, Yinsen, should have died."

The car jolted as Tony slammed on the brakes, turning in his seat to glare at Stephen. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Stephen didn't flinch under Tony's gaze. Instead, he let out a bitter laugh, the sound heavy with exhaustion and frustration. "Exactly what it sounds like. Yinsen was supposed to die. You were supposed to leave him behind, and that sacrifice was supposed to be what pushed you to escape. But now he's alive, and the timeline is broken, and it's my fault."

Yinsen's expression was a mix of shock and confusion. "I… I don't understand."

Stephen turned to him, his gaze softening slightly. "You don't have to. Just know that what happened tonight wasn't supposed to happen. I made a choice—an incredibly stupid, selfish choice—and now the consequences are out of my hands."

Tony's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing. "So what? You think saving his life was a mistake?"

Stephen shook his head, his voice quiet but firm. "No. That's the worst part. I don't feel guilty about it. I should have let the timeline carry on. I should have stayed out of it. But I didn't. I couldn't."

The weight of his confession hung in the air, the silence that followed almost suffocating. Stephen turned his gaze back to the horizon, his shoulders slumping as the tension drained out of him.

"You asked who I am," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm no one. Just a fool who's spent too long carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders. Now, a couple days without it and I've become reckless."

Tony stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned back to the wheel, his hands gripping it tightly as the car lurched forward again. He didn't say anything, but Stephen could feel the questions simmering beneath the surface.

Yinsen, ever the optimist, placed a gentle hand on Stephen's side. "You saved us. Whatever the cost, I'm grateful."

Stephen didn't respond. He couldn't. The words caught in his throat, swallowed by the guilt and frustration that churned inside him. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned against the door, the vibrations of the car lulling him into an uneasy rest.