Prologue - Wake in the Morning
“I…am…Iron Man.”
Tony snapped his fingers, knowing the cost, knowing it was the last thing he’d ever do with his life, holding one single thought, one directive like a lifeline and pushing it at the stones: Protect them all, keep the universe safe from Thanos and his army. His insistence was as desperate as it was emphatic, throwing all his mental fortitude at the stones and praying, wishing, dreaming that it would be enough. And when the alien army started crumbling to dust, dissolving to pieces in front of his eyes, he didn’t feel gleeful but instead felt merely wearily relieved.
The purple grape was the last to go, and with him went the last of Tony’s stamina. He crumpled as the stones’ energy consumed him, feeling his insides begin to blacken and curl up as the stones tried to integrate with his poor battered, broken mortal body. Morgan, he thought desperately. Harley. Peter. His children, his sons and daughter who he didn’t want to leave behind. At least he could leave them a world that wouldn’t be threatened by Thanos or, if his teammates had any sense, the infinity stones.
“Mr. Stark?” As though conjured by his thoughts, Tony heard Peter’s voice, the boy’s face lowering so that it hovered in front of his own. Tony tried to focus in on him, wanting to respond, to reassure, to even just see his kid one last time, but his vision was blurring and his tongue couldn’t find the words.
“Mr. Stark, we won,” Peter said desperately, his voice coming from further and further away. “We won, Mr. Stark. Please – please don’t go. I’m sorry.” And Tony wanted to respond so badly, but his head was swimming, his vision darkening, and he couldn’t – he couldn’t –
And then she was there, his beautiful firebird, his own personal phoenix, his Pepper who had been with him through every moment of Iron Man’s progression, who had told him once that he was going to kill himself trying to be a hero, who had told him to go be a hero (this one last time, they’d both known, though they would never have admitted they knew he wouldn’t be coming back) because she knew he wouldn’t be able to rest if he didn’t. “FRIDAY?” she prompted without looking away from her dying husband's eyes.
“Life functions critical,” FRIDAY responded, distraught but trusting that Pepper would come up with something, anything to fix this. It was what Pepper did – she put him back together, she patched him up and made him as whole as he could ever be. But not this time. Not this time, FRIDAY.
And Pepper knew it, too, because she smiled at him, gently, so gently. “Tony, look at me,” she said, her voice soft, and he tried, head lolling her way and eyes locking onto her, willing her to be the last thing he ever saw. “We’re going to be okay. You can rest now.”
Rest. Rest sounded good.
“Get up, Stark, you sleep too much. You said you would teach me paper football.”
Tony’s eyes snapped open. No. No. Had it all been a dream? Had he just dreamed up five years – five years - of an idyllic life, complete with a beautiful, wonderful daughter? He pushed himself up, looking around; he was on the Milano – he was on the fucking Milano, and either this was a really weird version of hell or everything had been a dream. Or, a little voice whispered, he’d done something horribly, horribly wrong with the infinity stones.
Oh god, let it all have been a dream. He’d never be able to live with himself if he’d erased his sweet daughter, his relationship with Pepper, the happy endings the entire rest of the worlds got when he snapped his fingers.
But when the next two days on the ship passed exactly as he remembered, complete with Captain Marvel appearing in her brilliant stream of blue-and-red-and-gold light to steer them home, that hope became more and more distant.
Although, there had been some oddities over those days as well. Like a bunch of ‘memories’ popping up that differed vastly from Tony’s own – memories of things that happened before Titan. Sometimes way before. Like a memory of retiring completely from the Avengers after Ultron amidst the other Avengers’ suspicion and distrust. Like a memory of him and Pepper getting married surrounded by all their friends and her family – family that had been dusted in his true memories. Like a memory of raising Morgan in Stark Tower with Peter popping in periodically after Tony had figured out Spider-Man was just an extremely smart kid and had dropped in to give him gear and a stern lecture on keeping himself safe. Like a memory of kissing Pepper and hugging his daughter before putting on the suit for the first time in three years when aliens appeared in New York again, of racing after a wizard without any backup, of successfully keeping Peter off the giant circular spaceship this time.
They were memories, but they weren’t his, and his memories weren’t real.
It was enough to give him a headache, and he was equal parts relieved and apprehensive when the Milano touched down outside the Compound. He wanted to know once and for all if the memories he thought were real had been a dream – or if they were part of a past that he’d erased when he used the gauntlet.
The apprehensive readiness to know the answer faded quickly into confusion as he looked over the small group of people who’d gathered as he and Nebula stepped out of the ship and noticed one very significant face missing.
“Pepper?” he whispered beseechingly, and he knew he had his answer before anyone said a word when Rhodey’s face crumpled, when Natasha looked pained, when Thor looked sympathetic, when Steve shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve said, his voice somber, and Tony swayed, his heart cracking. Nebula’s grip on him tightened, struggling to hold him up, and Rhodey stepped forward to help.
Tony gripped Rhodey’s shoulder, heart thumping erratically in his chest, needing to ask but terrified of the answer. “Morgan?” he finally bit out – and there was a moment where he wasn’t sure if Rhodey would even know who he was talking about. After all, his true memories told him Morgan shouldn’t exist yet. But things were similar and yet different, and Tony wasn’t sure how many of the new memories that had been appearing in his head over the past couple of days were real.
And then Rhodey nodded, a small smile crossing his face, and Tony felt relief sweep through him. Morgan was alive, Morgan was real. What that meant for his memories, he wasn’t sure. But, he decided, best to worry about that later. He sagged in Rhodey’s grip, Nebula still steadying him on his other side. “She’s fine,” Rhodey said softly. “She was with me when it happened, and I brought her here to the Compound.”
That struck Tony as strange. “With you?” he asked, exhaustion preventing him from vocalizing any more of the question but knowing Rhodey would understand.
He nodded, then appeared hesitant. “Pepper – she was on a plane when it happened, flying back from a meeting in Hong Kong. Tones…” And Rhodey stopped, expression conflicted, like he wasn’t sure he should say more.
“Tell me,” Tony said, voice strained, not wanting to know but knowing he needed the truth. Rhodey paused, then nodded.
“She was on the phone with someone when it happened. Tones, she didn’t fade away – the pilot did, and – and there wasn’t anyone else who could fly the plane.”
And if Rhodey and Nebula hadn’t been holding him up, he’d have crumpled to the ground at that news. “Oh god,” he whispered, agonized at the thought that his sweet, beautiful Pepper’s last moments hadn’t even been the peaceful dissolution of the snap, but had been a plane spiraling towards the ground, that she’d known she was going to die and hadn’t been able to prevent it – and he hadn’t been there to prevent it.
Take me back, he thought desperately, wildly. Take me back to my world, this one is too cruel.
But no, he couldn’t abandon his daughter. She would not be orphaned so young, she wouldn’t. It’s not what a Pepper of any world would have wanted, and he may not know what the hell was going on for everything to be so similar but so different from the world in which he’d just died, but he knew two things would never change: he would always do his best to give the people he loved everything they wanted, and he would never abandon his children if it was within his power.
He would adjust, and he would move forward as he always did; he was a futurist, after all. He just needed to find anything and everything that made the future of this world worth living in.
And as though summoned by his internal plea, one such thing appeared. “Mr. Stark!” a voice Tony absolutely did not expect to hear called to him, and before he could react a blur was racing toward him, slamming into him and knocking him out of Rhodey’s and Nebula’s grasp and onto the soft grass. He let out a pained grunt before he could hold it in, and immediately heard a squeak of distress. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m just so happy to see you, I was so scared when you left on that alien spaceship, and we hadn’t heard from you since then, and then people started turning to dust, and it’s been weeks and everyone said you were dead but I knew you weren’t, and I’m just so happy you’re here, Mr. Stark!”
“Breathe, kid,” Tony said with a breathless chuckle, craning up from where he was flat on his back in the grass to stare disbelievingly at Peter hovering over him. “I’m happy to see you, too.” Peter beamed, so breathtakingly earnest and thrilled that it took some of the sting of Pepper, his wonderful Pepper, away. He stood, offering a hand to Tony and helping him up before plastering Tony with another hug, face buried in Tony’s chest.
“I knew you were still alive,” he mumbled, and Tony could hear the last of the doubts that made that sentence a lie crumbling away. He tightened his hold on Peter, one hand coming up to rest in the kid’s hair.
“Couldn’t leave you, kiddo,” Tony murmured.
“Why don’t we get you inside, Tones? You look like you need medical care,” Rhodey prompted, and there were noises of agreement from the others. Tony nodded, Nebula stepping back so Peter and Rhodey could help him. He watched as Rocket walked past him, heading for Nebula, who was looking so alone standing at the bottom of the step of the ships.
He paused, Rhodey and Peter coming to a halt with him, turning to face Nebula. “Hey Bionic Woman, come find me later,” he invited softly. “I have some more games I can teach you.”
Nebula’s face slackened in shock for a moment before resuming its carefully schooled emotionless expression. She nodded shortly. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” Tony said with a soft smile before turning and letting Rhodey and Peter guide him back to the Compound. He could feel her curious eyes watching his back as they went.
“Adopting another one, Tones?” Rhodey asked knowingly, the barest hint of a smile quirking at his lips, and Tony shrugged. The trio followed Steve, a once-again-very-blond Natasha, and Captain Marvel – Carol, she’d said – back.
“Where’s Morgan?” Tony asked as soon as they stepped inside, looking around as though expecting his daughter to pop out of the walls. Carol was glancing around the Compound intently, as though memorizing its layout. Nebula and Rocket weren’t too far behind, muttering quietly back and forth to each other, and Thor trailed behind them as though uncertain where he belonged.
“Tony, maybe you should rest a little before you see her,” Steve suggested as Rhodey and Peter settled him in a chair in the kitchen. Natasha stood beside him, the two of them looking slightly uncomfortable but concerned, and Tony’s patchy new memories informed him that he’d fallen out with them after Ultron. They hadn’t believed him when he’d said Ultron had come online because of the corruption of the mind stone, that he hadn’t created a murder bot, his program had been corrupted by the stone’s influence – even in the face of irrefutable evidence that had been accepted by the courts when he was exonerated. They hadn’t believed him, they’d blamed him, and they hadn’t trusted him. And when he became even more insistent about the looming alien threat after the vision Maximoff had given him, they’d dismissed him, rolling their eyes about his ‘conspiracy theories’ and ‘you watch too many movies, Tony’ and ‘we have real problems to deal with here.’
So he’d left the Avengers, and he hadn’t spoken with them since. His memories told him the Accords had still happened, and he had still signed them in case he needed to fly individual missions as Iron Man (though he hadn’t, not till New York). But in this world, he hadn’t gotten involved in the process – he’d stayed home with his family, he’d let them work out the Accords on their own. He’d played with his daughter, helped Peter train, taught Harley about arc reactor technology, loved his beautiful wife.
And still, the split had happened. Steve, Barnes, Sam, Scott, and Clint had still teamed up – though Wanda was notably missing from their ranks, having stayed with Vision on the other side, along with Rhodey, T’Challa, and Natasha. Spider-Man had been conspicuously absent, with this world’s Tony having kept Peter up-to-date on what was happening with the Accords and cautioning him that he didn’t have to get involved in the fight, that he could sit this internal spat out, especially since the only Avenger who knew about him was Rhodey, so the others wouldn’t even be trying to recruit him. Peter, smart kid that he was, had decided that this was not his fight, that it was better to sign the Accords and let the others figure out their weird internal power struggle for themselves.
Apart from that, his new memories didn’t tell him exactly what had happened – presumably since he wasn’t involved and he was mostly retired, so he got (and wanted) only the bare minimum of information – but he’d apparently heard enough to know that the Rogues ended up in Wakanda, just like before, and that Steve had eventually called him from Wakanda to tell him the truth about his parents.
Tony wasn’t sure what to do with that particular revelation. On the one hand, once again he hadn’t found out until Steve had his bestest buddy back. But on the other, at least Steve had told him at all? It was much better than him finding out in a bunker in Siberia. But regardless, one thing hadn’t changed: after years of dismissing his concerns and his warnings, Steve really didn’t get to be concerned for his health right now, especially not at the expense of his Morgan.
“She is my daughter, and she just lost her mother and probably thinks her father is dead,” Tony spat, and Steve and Natasha flinched. “Where is she?”
“She’s asleep, Tones,” Rhodey said softly, steadily, resting one hand on Tony’s shoulder. “She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Why don’t you let her rest and see her first thing in the morning?”
Everything in Tony rebelled at the thought. All he wanted to do was scoop up his little girl and hold her close, reassure himself that she was real and here, reassure her that he was real and here. But if she hadn’t been sleeping…Tony could only assume that was his fault. Rhodey was right, it was better to let her rest – neither of them were going anywhere. He nodded, relenting, and Rhodey gave him a small smile.
“We should debrief,” Steve said, eyeing Tony calculatingly with hope. “You fought him, you could – “
“Who told you that?” Tony interrupted, recalling how this conversation had gone in his old memories, the old hurt, fury, pain returning to the forefront. He and Steve had worked past it in his old memories – but right now, everything felt raw again. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d never really gotten over it, or if it was something being in this past with these new memories was doing to him, but god, he was angry – and he was hurt. But the realization that what happened on Titan for him and what happened on Titan in this world might be two different things tempered his words. “Who told you we fought? No, we didn’t fight Thanos. Thanos wiped the floor with us, got the rest of the stones, and left us in the dust.”
“Sorry, sorry, okay,” Steve said placatingly, the barest hint of impatience tinging his voice. Then it turned demanding, commanding – the good ole Captain America voice dusting itself off. “But surely you got something out of him? A location? Coordinates? We need to know how to –“ and Tony felt himself snap, the same way he did last time.
“And I needed you – as in past tense. That trumps what you need,” he spat, and Rhodey’s hand settled on his shoulder in a way meant to offer support rather than restraint. He knew his Rhodey bear had been just as infuriated, just as irked that Tony had been disregarded at the cost of half the universe in his old memories. It bolstered him to know he still had his Platypus’s support in this. “I seem to recall telling you this was going to happen – for years - and what did you do? Well, Rogers? Romanov? Thor? What did you do?”
He waited, glaring between the three of them, daring any one of them to answer. When they didn’t, he snorted derisively. “That’s right, you dismissed me. You said I was just suffering from PTSD and an overactive imagination and should just shut the fuck up. You made me into a Cassandra. Well guess what – Troy has fallen, and you lot keeping your fucking heads in the sand while I warned you what would happen damn well helped burn it down.”
“Tony – “ Steve started, and Tony shook his head, pinning him with a glare so furious it could melt vibranium. But when he spoke, his voice was low, soft and dangerous.
“I told you we needed a suit of armor around the world, and you disagreed. I said we’d lose. You said we’d do that together. Well we lost, Steve. And where were you?” He chuckled, the sound bleak and bitter. “Where the fuck were you, Steve? So no. I don’t have any coordinates for you, I don’t have a location or a plan or even a single fuck left to give about whatever idea you have that you think will fix this. What I do have is a daughter and two boys I consider sons and a few other people I care about who are still here – and they’re what’s going to take priority now. And I suggest you do the same – but if you decide to ignore me again, and you keep fighting, then I guess I’ll give you one last piece of advice that I hope you’ll actually listen to: if you find him, or if he finds you – run. Run and hide, Hector, because you won’t walk away from that fight.”
Silence greeted his pronouncement, grim and stricken. Even Carol, who had stood strong and confident the last time he’d made a similar speech, looked a little rattled. Nebula and Rocket were wearing matching hard, black expressions of agreement, Nebula from having grown up with Thanos as her father and Rocket from having heard Nebula’s and Gamora’s stories of the destruction Thanos wrought. Thor only looked grief-stricken and empty, while Steve and Natasha were varying degrees of horrified and shell-shocked. He couldn’t see Peter’s or Rhodey’s faces, but he’d bet they were somewhere in that spectrum as well.
“Why don’t we get you to bed, Tones,” Rhodey broke the silence quietly, pressing a bit more firmly on his shoulder. Tony blew out air through his nose, exhaustion sweeping through him.
“Yeah. Rest sounds good,” he said hoarsely, his words echoing ones thought not too long ago.
Pale yellow – that was all he could see, a pale yellow light coming from every angle, surrounding and lifting him up, blanketing him, cushioning him. And then it started to fade, slowly, drip-drip-dripping away until he found himself standing on grey rock facing two enormous square stone pillars lifting up to the sky. Just barely beyond the pillars, he could see the steep drop off of a cliff framed by a sky made of dangerous greys, melancholy blues, and ominous reds weaving a tapestry of forewarning.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Tony startled at the voice, not having heard anyone approach, and he spun around.
“Natasha,” he breathed. And there she was - his - Natasha, with her red-and-blond hair in the signature braid she’d so favored in the end, smiling at him with the open freedom he’d only seen right before they’d left for their ‘time heist,’ when she had her best friend back and they finally had hope once again. She looked different, though – softer somehow, and Tony realized she wasn’t dressed in her Black Widow attire any more, but instead was in a flowing white shirt and loose white pants. “You realize you’re following every stereotype of ‘dead person visits you in your dreams’ with those clothes, right?” he couldn’t help quipping, and she only smiled.
“Tony,” she greeted him, and her voice echoed strangely. “It’s good to see you.”
Cautiously, as though afraid of scaring her off, Tony started over towards her. “It’s good to see you too, Tash. Though I have to say, I’m a little confused, since I’m pretty sure I just saw you a second ago looking about five years younger.”
He was close enough now that she was able to shove him lightly, playfully on the arm. “Commenting on a woman’s age? You have no class, Stark,” she teased, grinning lightheartedly, and he couldn’t help but smile at her in return.
“More like your hairstyle choices – what on earth possessed you to go blond?” Tony countered, and she laughed.
“Well, we all make our choices. Some of them small, some of them big – and some of them worlds-changing,” she responded, and though her smile was still sincere, her eyes grew progressively more serious.
“Worlds-changing?” Tony asked, catching the strange wording, and Natasha only looked at him. “Are you talking about what I did with the infinity stones? That wasn’t a dream, was it? All of that – it happened. But what’s going on now? Why do I have memories of things that never happened? Why have I gone back in time by 5 years? Why are things different than they were the first time around?”
Natasha shook her head. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Tony – because you’re looking at it the wrong way. Things are exactly as they’ve always been.”
Tony frowned, trying and failing to parse out that cryptic response. “Okay, so what are the right questions, then?”
Natasha looked at him, long and hard, her smile disappearing into something far more serious – and far sadder. “I can’t tell you that, zvezdnyy svet. You must find that out for yourself.” She hesitated, then reached out, brushing his face gently. “But know this – this was your choice, and the stones honor you for it.”
Tony jerked. “The stones – what? Tash, how do you know that? What do the stones have to do with this?”
Natasha smiled at him as everything began to fade. Her voice came as though from down a long tunnel. “Our faith is in you, Tony Stark.”