Chapter Text
The biggest mistake he’d made, Tony thought later, was that he and Nebula didn’t pick up and leave Titan immediately.
It was just… after Strange and the Guardians faded away, and Tony was left holding an armful of Peter’s ashes, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The world went faded and fuzzy at the edges and Tony forgot how to breathe. He curled up, clutching his left arm, and stared vacantly at the spot where Peter Parker had died. It didn’t seem right that there was nothing on the unmarked ground to say that a tragedy had happened there.
He was barely aware of Nebula prowling around somewhere, but he lacked the focus to pay her much attention. Too caught up in the beginnings of a grief so profound and deep that Tony was sinking beneath it, he didn’t even hear what she was saying to him. His mind was focused on the utter fear that had been on Peter’s face; the wind seemed to bring the sweet sound of Peter’s last words to his ears.
”I don’t feel so good… I don’t know what’s happening. Please, I don’t wanna go.. I don’t wanna go… I’m sorry…”
And, like a flickering candle, other faces flamed to life before his eyes: Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Bruce, May Parker, Steve, Natasha, Clint, the Barton children, Fury. Stark Industries employees. His favorite barista. The new P.A. Pepper had hired for him. All of them wearing an expression of fear just like Peter. All of them disintegrating into ashes that blew away on an uncaring wind. Each of them lost to the ages because Tony wasn’t good enough.
His chest squeezed, the tight, familiar feeling making him tense. Logically he knew that sitting curled up wasn’t the right way to handle a panic attack. He should be straightening his shoulders, opening his chest up, and taking slow, deep breaths. But he couldn’t move. It was like his body had locked up and all thought was beyond him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
Nebula screamed.
Tony’s head jerked up. His eyes saw Thanos, but he didn’t really accept it. What reason would there be for Thanos to come back? He’d won. He’d taken what he needed from them. Tony had nothing of worth. He was just an old man stuck in space, trying not to have a complete breakdown while slowly bleeding to death. Nothing special to see here.
“Stop,” Thanos rumbled, gesturing to Nebula. Her mouth hung open but the sound of her screaming was abruptly silenced. She recoiled, eyes widening in horror, and scrabbled at her throat. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Fury spread across his face and she grabbed for a weapon.
Thanos sighed. It was an intensely weary sound. A twitch of his fingers dissolved Nebula’s weapon; she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Tony stiffened, expecting her to dissolve into nothingness, but she didn’t. He stared at her face. Her eyes were shut. She’d landed on her stomach, crumpled up into a small heap, so he couldn’t tell whether she was breathing or not.
“This is the problem when you allow trash to fester,” Thanos said. “I’m disappointed she was not part of the purge.” He surveyed Nebula with a look of utmost disappointment, much like a parent would look at a misbehaving child, then turned away. In five long strides, he was standing right in front of Tony.
He should be stabbed. That was the thought hovering through Tony’s mind. But instead of the fierce determination and desire to protect the world that had driven him before, Tony felt… empty. He slowly tilted his head up to look at Thanos, meeting the dark eyes. Last time they’d been this close, Thanos had stabbed him. This time, Tony wondered if he was going to die.
“Tony Stark,” Thanos murmured, rolling the name around on his lips. His eyes seemed to glow.
Tony couldn’t speak. He just watched.
“I know you,” Thanos said at last. He held up the gauntlet and Tony’s eyes were drawn to the glitter of the Stones. They were strangely pretty, each one intermittently glistening with color. He barely noticed the rest of the world smearing into grey cloudiness.
When Tony woke, he could breathe again. That in itself was surprising, considering that he hadn’t thought he would ever wake up again. Staring up into darkness, he wondered if he was dead. Was this what hell was like? Just an endless void with nothing but his own thoughts for company? Nothing but the memories of all the people he’d failed…
He stuck his hands out automatically, trying to feel something, and jumped when his fingers made contact with bars. Was he in jail? Cautiously, Tony moved his hands higher. When he didn’t come into contact with a ceiling, he took a chance and sat up. He stretched his hands up, but continued to encounter nothing. When he put his hands out to either side, he found bars on both sides. If he was in a jail cell, it was either very small or very narrow. He couldn’t even stretch his arms out fully.
Curious, he pushed on the bars – gently at first, then with more strength. They didn’t give away beneath his weight, so they had to be connected to something. He pinged one with a fingernail and realized it was made of wood. Not what he would’ve expected for a cell, but maybe metal had been a limited commodity in Thanos’s world.
Thanos. Tony shuddered, realizing that he was most likely somewhere on Thanos’s ship. Why was he here? What had made Thanos come back for him? All he’d said before knocking Tony out was ‘I know you’. What did that even mean? Was there a reason that Thanos had brought him here, or did he just want to get Tony out of the way? Was he going to die of thirst or starve to death?
His fingers tightened around the bars as his breathing quickened. He forced himself to calm, because now wasn’t the time to lose it. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to try and find a way to escape. There would be no one coming to rescue him, he knew, because no one on Earth would even know that he hadn’t disintegrated. Nebula was the only person who knew he’d survived, and Tony didn’t know whether she was alive – and if she was, it was unlikely she would head for Earth to tell them that Tony had made it.
So he was on his own. Again. Naturally. Tony closed his eyes against the darkness, centering himself. He didn’t like the dark; it reminded him too much of cold nights in dark caves, and he’d grown used to the light of the arc reactor besides. He touched his chest, but the reactor was gone. That meant his access to the suit, and to FRIDAY, was also cut off.
His shirt was different.
Tony blinked, looking down automatically. Of course, he couldn’t see anything. He rubbed his fingers across the shirt. It was a much softer material than the jogging suit he’d been wearing before this all began. He belatedly realized, as his fingers continued to explore, that it wasn’t a shirt at all, but a one piece. There was no break between the top and the bottom. It even covered his bare toes, and the sleeves were long enough to drape over his palms.
Okay. So. Thanos had changed his clothing. That was a thing that Thanos had done. How creepy. But Tony supposed he should be grateful that he wasn’t naked right now. He cringed at the thought and immediately banished it from his brain. He was not going to let himself go down that road.
Instead, he wrapped both hands around the bars again and slowly pulled himself to his feet. In the process, he realized two things. One, he wasn’t wounded anymore. The stab wound, not to mention all the scratches and bruises he’d obtained, were gone. He could move without pain. And, while he couldn’t see the wound, he pressed a hand over the material to that spot and felt nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.
Two, he was wearing some kind of weird underwear. He hadn’t noticed it while sitting, but it was impossible to ignore while standing. It was thick enough that his stance was unnaturally widened, and made of plastic. Tony traced it with his fingers, feeling the way the waistband sat directly under his belly button, and across what felt like straps at the side. His eyes widened as a picture formed in his head and he shook his head. This couldn’t be what he thought it was. He couldn’t be wearing a diaper underneath what was undeniably a onesie.
“What the fuck,” he mouthed to himself; he didn’t dare speak for fear that might tell Thanos he was awake.
Suddenly, he was overcome by a frantic wave of fear and shame. This wasn’t happening. He grabbed at the collar of the onesie and tried to find the zipper. But no matter how many times his shaking fingers explored the onesie’s collar, he couldn’t find a zipper or a button. His shoulders were too broad to fit through the neckline. There had to be some way out because Thanos had, presumably, put it on, but damned if Tony could find it. He even resorted to grabbing the material between his fingers and trying to rip it, but it was too well-made. His fingers slipped and he couldn’t get a good enough hold.
He slumped to the bed in the end, momentarily overwhelmed by fatigue, and buried his face in his hands. He just didn’t understand what was going on.
It was tempting to just give up. But then he thought about Rhodey and Pepper. He didn’t know whether they’d made it out alive, but if they had they would be worried about him. They’d be devastated if he didn’t come back. He owed it to his best friends to do whatever he could to get out of here. The last thing he wanted to do was put them through another Afghanistan.
Maybe he could get out of this cell. That would be a start. He couldn’t focus on his clothing for now. He stood again, using the bars for balance. The floor was weirdly squishy, like a mattress, and hard to stand on. Tony stretched a hand up and felt a thrill when he encountered the top. It was high, but he’d had worse. He jumped, grabbing the bars over his head. His feet slid uselessly against the bars, the material too soft to gain any traction, so he was forced to haul himself up by hands alone.
Good thing Thanos had healed the stab wound, Tony thought wryly, hauling himself up a few inches. It was just enough for him to be able to get his left leg over top of the bars. Then he had to pull his body up, swinging his center of gravity directly over the bars. It left him a little out of breath but he managed, sitting atop the bars and surveying the void around him.
Much as he’d never admit it, he was a little reluctant to climb down. It was just so dark. Who knew what was waiting for him?
But sitting here wasn’t going to solve problems. So he let one foot drop and then the other, slowly easing his weight down. He was relieved to find the floor, though it was a more severe drop than he’d expected. The cell must have been several inches off the floor. The data all combined in Tony’s head to present the obvious conclusion: he’d been sleeping in a crib, not a jail cell.
What the fuck. What the fuck. Tony was getting angry now, bypassing shame and settling firmly on watching to punch Thanos in the face. Or maybe throw a moon at him, see how he liked it.
“I should have guessed you would be a troublemaker.”
The voice made Tony jump. Instantly, he dropped to his knees and rolled to his left under the crib. It wouldn’t afford much protection, but it was something. He hid his eyes as the room began to brighten, though not to the point where it was painful. Just enough for him to make out Thanos, seated in a chair about a dozen feet away. Had he been watching this whole time?
Thanos walked over. Tony froze and didn’t move. He held his breath as Thanos knelt on one knee, bending forward to look in at him. His expression was blank, as though he did this every day, and Tony didn’t know – maybe he did. He jerked backwards instinctively, curling in on himself, feeling terribly naked without the arc reactor or the suit. Thanos just smiled at him, the kind of condescending smile, Tony was uncomfortably aware, that an adult might give a child when they were being silly.
“We’ll train that out of you.”