Ad Infinitum

There is a point between this world and the next - a threshold, if you will - where truths are found. Most come to the path, gain their truths and move on. Some linger long, others barely pause before they cross. A very few approach, linger and retreat. Even fewer remember the truths they have found.

Tony didn't know how long he'd been laying there. Warmth was but a theoretical concept. Time had ceased to have meaning. He'd been here before - this moment when mere survival an all-but-unattainable goal, a barely expressible wish.

Ghosts of the past had come and gone. He'd come to terms with his failures and losses all over again, the old and the new. Not entirely, no. The chill of winter numbing his very soul had helped, perhaps, but he no longer felt the burn of betrayal and loss. Even such false warmth as that had fled, leaving the empty chill of a moonless winter night behind.

A new figure swam into being before his hazy vision - yet another ghost, perhaps. Another memory to lay to rest. Pale face framed by dark hair. Green eyes that were familiar... yet not.

"...Loki? Thor said you're dead. Again, apparently. I'm flattered you'd stop by. I guess it makes sense, though. I'm all but dead, too, so why not, right? Is it your turn to offer me a drink, Reindeer Games.?" He wasn't sure whether his voice actually made any sound or it was all in his head. He wasn't sure it mattered, either.

The figure cocked its head. "Oh, Anthony. You've forgotten me again. We've met so many times - so many times you've approached the door to my domain only to step back, to be pulled back." The voice was warm and fond... and unmistakably feminine. Not Loki.

"I cannot fully release you this time, my Anthony. The time grows near - I can feel the walls of my prison thinning and I shall require payment for services rendered - my Merchant of Death."

Deeply buried memory returned. Hela had greeted, healed and released him back to life several times - a kidnapping gone wrong, Howard's temper, childhood lab accidents, alcohol poisoning, drug overdose, Afghanistan, Palladium poisoning, Obadiah, New York, Ultron. Now Siberia.

Gold and green swirled around Tony, releasing him from the prison of his broken suit, warming him and healing much of his frostbite and the worst of the damage to his chest. The bitter cold air no longer froze blood bubbling in his lungs and the sheer relief of being able to breathe was incredible. He could feel his fingers grip the rough edges of damaged metal, and see clearly again. He was still battered, bruised, in pain and stiff from lying in the cold, but no longer completely broken. He carefully rolled to his knees and bowed his head before her. "Yes, my Queen."

She smiled. "I will grant you this chance for justice, or for vengeance, against those who wronged you. There is power in this place - power that allowed your enemy to cut you to the heart with truths once buried, maintained those who long slept here, opened the door to this silo whence your prey sought egress, and lit their path in and out - use that to send for aid, use the materials here to survive and escape.
"You cannot fully return to life this time, my Anthony, though you shall return to your life. You will remain at this threshold, holding this door open. It will take a small part of your life energy, but I swear it will not harm you, and will allow you to remember and to hear me. You will do my bidding, but fear not - our goals are more closely aligned than you yet understand, for the balance of Life and Death is in jeopardy. And as with each time you have come before me, answers and inspiration will be given as you seek them.
"Build me your best weapons, my Merchant. Many have lusted for the power you create and sought to control you to get it. I now command you: rebuild your arsenal, and win your freedom when the threat you have seen comes, for it will come. For now, you have time. Rest. Heal. Restore your suit to functionality, but retain the visible damage. You will wear it when I call for your service. For now, that is enough. "

He met her eyes as the form before him shimmered and began to fade. "I cannot hold my seeming here longer. Fare you well, my Anthony. We will speak anon."