Stephen chose to stay at Kamar Taj. Even though his body was still on New York time and it should technically still be the middle of the morning there, he was exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, after his match with Ariana.

He collapsed onto the same bed he'd laid on that first night he came to Kamar-Taj all those years before. Stretched his achy body out across the bed and gingerly lay his head back against the pillow. He wondered if she still used the room he'd set up for her seven years ago, when she came as IT support from Stark Industries. The room with purple bedding—the only one of it's kind at Kamar Taj.

He knew she was holding back anger and resentment, just how much he'd had no idea. Even the physical exertion she'd put out wasn't as much a shock as the words she'd shouted at him. He'd had a choice to make, break the heart of the one he loved by leaving her—and thus saving her and the rest of the world—or escape and come back to her, only to have to watch her ripped out of his hands by Thanos, and then know the snap would have happened anyway, but without the correct circumstances for it to eventually be reversed and Thanos killed. He'd hoped she'd understand it was what he had to do, no matter how much it broke his own heart. But, as his ribs were proof of now, she obviously didn't agree. At least that was all he could guess by the final pummeling she had laid into him.

He'd take all the beatings in the world if it meant she might forgive him, might be able to look at him again the way she used to. If she might be able to love him again.

He fell asleep with a tear streaming down his face.

He awoke an undetermined amount of time later to a knocking at his door. He sat up quickly and cringed as his muscles argued with him. Thankfully, no broken ribs, he could tell, but he'd definitely be feeling this for a few days—physically that is. He'd no idea if he'd ever get over the grief that was settling into his chest.

He slowly stood as another knock came. "I'm coming!" he called out grumpily.

When he opened the door, the last person he expected was on the other side. "Ariana."

She stared at him. "I was right, you haven't let anyone help you get cleaned up and check over those injuries. Come on, sit down and let me look at your wounds."

Only then did he look down to see her carrying a large tray with a bowl and a jar of water, several towels, gauze, and other first aid items. "You can just leave this, I'll take care of it."

"Will you now? Did your hands heal when you reappeared with the blip, and I didn't hear about it?" He frowned and she shrugged. "I'm sorry—that was too far...but you're standing in my way and I'm not leaving till you let me in and let me make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Right. Then this won't take long. Am I going to have to use a spell to move you and restrain you in the chair or are you going to listen?"

He was so confused, all he could do was step back and allow her entry.

"Sit."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and sighed as he sat in the chair and watched her moving things around on the tray and onto the small table by the chair. She poured some of the water into the bowl and dabbed a corner of the small hand towel into it before turning and gently dabbing it against his head.

He inhaled quickly and she stopped.

"Sorry," she said, but kept the towel on the wound.

"That wasn't pain."

"Then what was it?"

He was quiet a moment, unsure how to explain. But she remained still, waiting on his answer. "You've—you've barely touched me in three weeks. Other than today, but those weren't quite so caring—"

He saw her swallow slowly and she began to dab, cleaning away the blood from the small wound on his temple.

"Do you have ice?"

"Yes."

"May I have it?"

"For?"

"The back of my head."

"Oh," she said, stilling again. If he wasn't mistaken, he'd say that was a feeling of regret he was getting from her. But he wasn't about to assume anything from Ariana Miller at this stage of the game. She turned and pulled the bag of ice out from under another towel and handed it to him.

As he raised his arm to put the ice on his head, he flinched. The act of trying to make one pain better only made one worse. His side was surely bruised.

She frowned. "Take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?"

"We need to get a look at your torso and assess the injuries."

"We do not need to—"

"Stephen! Just. Do. It."

He sighed and laid the ice onto the table and began untying the belt and straps that held his tunic on. At least she'd used his first name again. Eventually it opened and she gasped at what she saw.

"Oh. I'm—I'm sorry," she said—clearly guilt-ridden now, her head hanging low.

He sighed and looked down. Sure enough, his skin was starting to turn a deep shade of purple in several spots, especially his side where she'd gotten a few good blows before he tapped out. "It's alright. I probably deserved it."

"No. No, you didn't."

"Well, what's done is done," he said as he slid the tunic the rest of the way off his arms and reached over to pick up the ice and more gingerly lift up to rest it on his head. "If it made you feel better, then—"

"Please, don't—," she said quietly, her head still down in shame.

"Don't want?" he asked just as quietly.

"Just...just don't talk for now. Just let me do this."

He looked at her closely a moment before quietly conceding. "Okay."

She cleaned up a few more small wounds and spoke again a few moments later. "We've got to make sure you're cleaned up before we go to dinner tomorrow night."

He looked at her, though she had turned to face the bowl, ringing out the towel.

"That wasn't a part of the deal. You won. No dinner."

She stopped, waited a beat, then finally spoke again. "Do you want to go to dinner or not?"

"Yes. But—"

"Then we're going to dinner." They were both quiet another moment, then she turned, still not quite able to look him in the eye. "Besides—really, you won that fight."

"How exactly do you figure?"

"I may have bested you physically for a moment, but mentally and emotionally, you obviously were in greater control."

"You are a strong opponent Ariana. In other circumstances, you'd have bested me in all areas, I'm certain. Or at least have been formidable. Perhaps we can train together another time."

She nodded slightly, nervously, then finally spoke again. "I'll just leave you to the rest then." And she quickly turned, almost to the door before his brain caught up.

"Wait."

She froze, but remained quiet, back still to him.

"Ariana, what's going on?"

"I—I'm not ready yet. Just give me—just give me a little more time. Okay?"

He nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "Okay."

"I will see you for dinner tomorrow night. Back in New York, right?" she asked, hand on the door knob.

"Yes. What time is it right now?"

"Midnight here. Three there. I'll be heading back to the Sanctum in just a bit. Wong is already there. But I'm going to pay a visit to Pepper overnight, so I won't be back till time for our date tomorrow."

His heart almost stopped at her use of the word "date", but he managed to keep his brain in gear. "Please send Mrs. Potts, and Morgan, my best. Is 6 o'clock okay?"

"6 is fine. I'll tell them." She nodded and finally began to move again, slipping out his door and into the quiet dark hallway.