Everything blurred, but he had to go. He had to escape this place, get home, get planning.
He knew he wouldn’t survive very long. The wound in his side was too deep, too painful. If he didn’t bleed out, he’d pass out. But those people - the Guardians - they had a ship. Maybe, if by some miracle, Tony could figure out how to fly it home.
Fortunately, Tony worked best when he was in pain. Anxiety wracked his brain, the fast pattering of his heart, from blood loss, tricked his brain and pangs of anxiety came and went. It was a nauseating feeling, if the grief didn’t already handle that. Everything was blurring, and black spots were flying around his vision, but Tony couldn’t stop. He forced himself to hum Thunderstruck by AC/DC just to keep himself awake, the beat fast enough to make the heart-pounding anxiety fade into the electric guitar solo. It was a poor attempt at focus, but it seemed to work for a bit. He got the orange and blue spaceship running, and even managed to think up coordinates for Earth. Then he was speeding off into space, and he could finally lay against the wall and sleep.
Sleep hovered over him like a dark storm cloud, threatening death, threatening the same fate as all those that had disintegrated.
I don’t want to die.
Whether it was Tony’s mind or a memory was a true mystery, but it haunted every dream that swept past, each of them slipping through his fingers before he could grasp it. That vision he’d seen, all his friends dead before him, crushed by some unknown force, flashed like a reminder in his mind, digging that already serious stab wound deeper until it pulsed throughout his entire body.
Tony didn’t know when he arrived on Earth. All he heard was an alarm, blaring and screaming in his ears. His reflexes kicked in after years of sleep deprivation whilst working with machinery, and he stood and stumbled to the controls, grabbing hold and grunting while he leveled out. Forcing himself awake again, he programmed a bit of the controls to search for familiar life forms. Bruce, Cap, Natasha... anyone who happened to be near. The ship instantly turned and sped off, and Tony lost consciousness again.
He woke not hours later, during the rough landing on uneven terrain. He tried sitting up and looking around, but he couldn’t move and his eyes blurred so wildly it made him dizzy and nauseas. The anxiety flooded back, so with a burst of energy he slammed the button that opened the exit out of the spacecraft and tumbled out of the chair, actually crawling towards the darkness outside. It was night. Night? That wasn’t very convenient.
Someone was yelling. Screaming, really. He recognized the voice - Natasha. Thank god. The ship had found her.
“...Ony! You... where...?” Hands gripped his shoulders so he opened his eyes, but instantly regretted it and shut them again. “...Ake up!”
Sleep took over him again. He didn’t try to wake himself up this time. Natasha had him. He could trust her to get him to safety. He slept fitfully, which wasn’t a surprise, but it was unbearable and he found himself trying to wake himself up after hours of it, not able to handle it anymore. He needed to regroup, to plan. But not yet. Sleep was a prison and he had no way to escape.