Chapter Text
Time blurred together worryingly fast. That was the biggest thing that Tony noticed. Thanos kept him confined to four rooms. There was a small kitchen, a bathroom, a nursery, and a playroom. None of them had windows, so it was impossible to tell whether it was night or day outside - or even whether there was a sun and moon to mark the passage of time. It was unlikely that they were on Earth. As Tony lay on a soft yellow blanket and stared up at the toy hanging over his head, he realized he didn't know if he'd been a prisoner for five days or five months or five years.
He thought it unlikely that it had been years, but it felt longer than days or weeks. They had a routine now. Tony was put to bed in a crib every night. He always slept regardless of whether he was sleepy or not; that had to be the Gauntlet's doing, though he would be hard-pressed to prove it. After a set amount of time, Thanos would come wake him up. He'd feed Tony breakfast and then let him play. Then Tony would nap, and when he woke up it would be lunch time. The afternoon followed a similar pattern. Then would be supper, followed by a bath and then bedtime again. It was the same thing every day.
The monotony was beginning to wear on him. Tony ached for the sun. He missed the warmth and the brightness on his face. All he wanted to do was lay out under the sun for several hours. He remembered feeling the same way after Afghanistan, and how good it had felt to walk through the dessert and turn his face up to the hot sun. In the midst of all that sand and heat, the sun had actually turned into his enemy - but Tony hadn't cared. He would've been happy to die free than live forever in the hands of his captors, and that same feeling was what drove him now. The problem was that it turned out Thanos was far more capable as a captor than the Ten Rings could've hoped to be.
He never left these four rooms, and Thanos was the only person Tony ever saw. When he was awake, Thanos was a constant presence. He was certain that Thanos left when Tony slept, but either Thanos was capable of teleportation or he created and then removed a door every time he came and went. Tony had regained a fraction more muscle control since Thanos had originally used the Reality Stone on him. He couldn't walk or crawl, but he could get around by laying on his tummy and using his feet to propel himself around on the floor. It was a slow, tedious process, but he'd managed to examine every inch of the walls. There was no door that he could discern. It was maddening how easily Thanos was able to manipulate reality with that goddamned Stone.
He rolled over onto his stomach and pressed his face into the blanket. The familiar pressure of tears built up behind his eyes, but Tony refused to cry. Sometimes he wept in his sleep, and he was always left feeling weak and pathetic when he woke in the morning and found dried tear tracks on his face. Those were usually the nights he dreamt of Pepper and Rhodey, or of flying above New York city in the Iron Man armor. He missed the armor as much as he missed the sun. He longed for the days where he could go for a flight whenever he was stressed out.
His eyes shut, he pressed a clumsy hand against his sternum. The reactor was gone as though it had never been; Thanos had healed the damage that was done to Tony's body, removing the scar tissue and leaving smooth, healthy skin in its place. He couldn't remember the last time he could take such a deep breath and not have his lungs burn. In fact, Thanos had healed him from head to toe. The scar on Tony's leg from where he'd dropped a knife? Gone. The burn scar on his right arm from when he'd been helping Jarvis cook when he was five? Gone. The scar on his side from where he'd gotten his appendix out when he was eight? Gone.
It was like Thanos had erased part of his life. All this perfect, unmarred skin wasn't Tony Stark, and it left him wondering who he even was anymore. Was he still an Avenger? Did anyone on Earth even remember him? Was there any hope of an escape ever happening? Would he spend the rest of his life in these four rooms, alone and afraid, until he forgot that Thanos was the enemy? The questions plagued him until he wanted to claw at his head just to make them stop.
"Tony?"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Tony froze and suddenly realized that he'd been digging his blunted nails into his chest. Of course, he was wearing a blue onesie so he couldn't do any damage - but from day one, Thanos had cracked down on Tony hurting himself in any way. He rolled over onto his back, looking towards the doorway to the kitchen. Thanos stood there, watching them. A chill ran down Tony's spine as he wondered how long Thanos had been there for. For such a big man, Thanos could be extraordinarily quiet when he moved.
Tony blinked at him, not bothering to respond. He still couldn't speak properly. He was capable of forming syllables if he really concentrated, but it was like his mouth couldn't remember how to string them together into words. So he preferred to remain quiet instead, communicating with gestures if necessary. Fortunately, Thanos didn't seem to mind. He always seemed to know what Tony was thinking anyway. It was entirely possible that he could read Tony's mind.
"You miss the sun," Thanos said, which only lead credence to Tony's theory about mind-reading. "I understand. When I researched humanity's history, I did discover that the sun played an important part." He stepped into the room. "You've behaved well. I'm pleased with how you're progressing. I believe you have earned a reward."
A reward? In spite of himself, a flash of interest and curiosity ran through Tony. Without thinking, he tried to sit up. His weakened core muscles couldn't support him and he flopped about uselessly instead. A rare smile crossed Thanos's face and he moved closer, big hands reaching down to pick Tony up. Tony went still, his stomach churning and face burning as Thanos slid a finger down the back of his diaper to check and see if it was soiled. Without question, this was the part he loathed the most about this twisted scenario. It turned out that when Thanos took his muscle control away, he'd also taken Tony's ability to control his bladder and bowels. Tony was fully reliant on diapers to keep from soiling himself.
It was humiliating, and made worse by the fact that Tony legitimately couldn't help it.
"You need a change," Thanos murmured, just as Tony had known and dreaded that he would. Even though he knew there was no point, he couldn't help squirming as Thanos carried him into the nursery.
The first few times this had happened, Tony had screamed himself sick. It was the only thing he could do. Now, he mostly closed his eyes and tried to disassociate himself from the moment. He told himself desperately that he was in the workshop with Dummy and JARVIS, creating new plans for the armor, and did everything he could to ignore the big hands pulling apart his diaper and, by extension, his thighs. A cold wipe slipped between his legs, removing the worst of the mess. A second followed, and then a third. The workshop. Tony was in the workshop.
A sob caught in his throat as Thanos gripped his ankles and pulled his buttocks off the table to remove the soiled diaper and replace it with a clean one. At least that last indignity meant that the diaper change was nearly over; with a sprinkle of baby powder, Thanos expertly strapped the diaper into place and then picked him up again. Tony chewed his lower lip, trying to keep his breathing steady. He was not surprised when Thanos pushed a pacifier into his mouth. He'd spit them out many times before; this time, the pressure of the nipple against his tongue helped to keep him from crying.
Thanos carried him to the door of the nursery. "Time for your reward," he announced, as though Tony should be happy. The curiosity had dwindled quickly, replaced by a keen sense of dread as Tony tried to picture what Thanos would deem worthy of a reward. Some new humiliation? Was he going to parade Tony before his army? That was, perhaps, the one thing he dreaded more than anything else. At least in here, the only person who saw him this way was Thanos.
They stepped through the doorway. Tony had his eyes squeezed shut, so it took him much longer than it should've to realize that they were not in the playroom like they should've been. Very slowly, he became aware of a warm sensation on his face that hadn't been there before. Air moved against his face, drying the sweat that had beaded up on his forehead. He hadn't felt moving air for a long time. Something tickled his nose and he recoiled in surprise, opening his eyes to see that there was a pink butterfly hovering about an inch away from his face.
He stared at the butterfly, momentarily mesmerized by the beautiful colors, then looked beyond it. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the meadow they were standing in. Lush green grass grew in every direction as far as the eye could see, broken up only by crops of flowers: roses, daisies, sunflowers, tulips, and forget-me-nots, just to name a few. The sun was shining in a cloudless blue sky. Butterflies and bees flew around them, moving from flower to flower. In the distance, he could make out the sound of running water. A squirrel ran by Thanos's feet, chittering quietly.
They were outside. Or maybe inside and Thanos was using the Reality Stone again, Tony didn't know. What he did know was how unbelievably amazing it felt to turn his face up to the sun and shut his eyes. The light was strong enough that he could see it through his eyelids. It warmed the apples of his cheeks. He barely noticed when Thanos set him down on the ground, too busy rolling over and stretching his body out so that the sun could reach as much of him as possible. If he could've, he would've stripped naked so that he could feel it everywhere.
A breeze blew, bringing the scent of flowers to him, and Tony opened his eyes. Ungracefully, he flopped over onto his belly and wiggled in the direction of the nearest patch of flowers. They were pink and yellow tulips, smelling sweet and fragrant. He put his nose up to them and inhaled deeply. They were fresh and alive and soft when he rubbed his cheek against the petals. Had he ever stopped to rub his face against some flowers before? Why not? Why hadn't he ever stopped to focus on how good grass could feel beneath his hands?
"Tony," Thanos said, interrupting him. Tony blinked up at him, feeling almost drunk.
"I have something else for you. A toy."
Thanos made a motion with his hand. The Iron Man armor appeared before them. Somehow, it had been fully repaired: it looked like it had just come off the line, when last time Tony had seen it, it still looked like Thanos had torn it almost to shreds. Tony's toes twitched, but he didn't move. He stared at the armor hungrily, but his eyes kept darting away whenever the breeze moved the flowers, or a chipmunk scuttled by, or a seagull flew overhead. He'd been waiting to his hands on the armor for so long - as long as he'd been desperate to get outside. He couldn't decide what to pay more attention to and the conflict made him freeze.
"Excellent," Thanos said, his voice filled with grim satisfaction, and moved towards the armor. With every step he took, the Iron Man armor shrunk, until finally it was no bigger than the size of a house cat. Thanos plucked the armor out of the air and it changed, transforming from metal into fabric and plastic. He handed the armor to Tony, and it was now no more than a child's toy.
Tony stared down at it, breath catching in his chest. The blank, plastic eyes of the armor stared back up at him.
"I have also decided," Thanos continued, "that you are in need of a companion."
A companion? Tony lifted his head, struggling to understand. After months where everything was maddeningly routine, this was too much change all at once. He was thrown. He didn't know what to do or how to react.
"Gamora was my child. I loved her. But she is lost to me now, and there is no way for me to resurrect her," Thanos said, looking sorrowfully at the Gauntlet. "But I have decided that her sacrifice will not be in vain. There was someone she loved, and that person is not beyond my reach. And I like him. He kept his promise to my daughter. I believe he deserved better."
What? What was he talking about? Tony's heartbeat quickened and he felt sick. He flinched as the Stones on the Gauntlet began to glow with that eerie light that meant something was about to happen. At first his panic was for himself, and what else was going to be taken from him. But then, in the distance, he saw a blob of color beginning to form. It slowly elongated, gaining a human shape, and grew darker. It took on features, distorted at first, slowly morphing into something that was slightly familiar.
"What," Peter Quill said heavily, looking around with wild eyes, "the fuck?!"
"My child," Thanos said, and closed his fist. Quill collapsed like his feet had been cut out from under him, hitting the ground with a resounding thump. He flailed around in a manner that was disturbingly familiar and then began to scream. As Thanos smiled and walked towards him with slow, smug steps, Tony shuddered and hid his face within the cloth belly of the Iron Man doll.