Work Text:
Tony’s known it all along, somewhere deep, deep down.
He’s been out for a bit, thanks to the gigantic eggplant throwing him all over the battlefield, and when he comes to, he’s having trouble breathing through the dented armour that’s pressing down into his ribcage. Bright lights in front of his eyes are alternating with creeping blackness, and for a while, all he can concentrate on is staying conscious.
Then FRIDAY says the word back-up into his ear and, squinting, Tony realises that the bright circles obscuring his vision aren’t a byproduct of his concussion, but rather evidence that the Bleecker Street Magician is back on earth.
And he’s not alone. So many people have been suddenly resurrected that Tony feels like he’s slipped right into an episode of The Walking Dead.
There’s a beat and Tony’s back in the fight.
All at once, Pepper is there - Pepper in the suit he made for her, and if the situation weren’t so urgent, Tony would make out with her right here on the battlefield, his injuries and hundreds of spectators be damned. But they need to focus on stopping the Titan from destroying the universe once again, so he’s got to make do with staying close to his wife. They have each other’s backs, quite literally this time, which is simultaneously amazing and horribly wrong because she wasn’t ever meant to be out on the field.
Then a monster jumps at Tony, something right out of his nightmares that pushes him onto the ground before it prepares to attack. Tony’s so used to waving goodbye to his life and being saved at the last moment that he isn’t actually surprised when the monster is held back by a bundle of sticky webs. But before he can fully comprehend what that means, there’s the kid, a big grin on his sweaty face, extending a hand to help him up. Tony’s confused and more than slightly concussed brain provides him with an HD-quality flashback to Titan.
His own blade is stabbed into his side, the pain strong enough to almost make him pass out. But that isn’t the worst; the pain is never the worst. He watches with horror as Strange gives the stone away in exchange for his life, and even in that moment, he might already have understood it.
That it wasn’t for him. That he’s been living on borrowed time ever since.
Thanos vanishes and Tony keeps sitting there, panting, the world spinning in front of his eyes and his brilliant mind unable to catch up with what has just occured. His insides are on fire and there is blood in his mouth - too much of it. He bends over and spits it out, gagging on the taste of copper as the pain ricochets throughout his whole body.
“Mr Stark?”
It’s the concerned voice of the kid, and fuck, he really shouldn’t be here. So much more guilt on Tony’s shoulders.
“‘m fine,” Tony pants, lying. “Help me up.”
He can practically feel the kid’s concern radiating from him in waves. Probably justified, judging by the burning pain raging inside Tony’s body and the blood soaking his clothes. There is blood on his face as well, tears in his eyes, dizziness crashing over him like a wave, but in that moment, he couldn’t care less.
Because Thanos has gotten the stone and the universe is about to be torn in half. Tony’s head is swimming when he gets to his feet, leaning heavily on Peter, and for a second he is sure he’ll pass out there and then. It’s only sheer force of will that stops him.
Because it’s about to get worse. He’s almost been killed, but something tells him that this is only the beginning.
Tony wishes that for once in his life, his premonition will prove to be wrong. But of course, it doesn’t.
The insect girl dissolves into dust. Then Mr. Propper. Then Quill. Then Strange.
And then. And then.
Peter.
The taste of ashes on his tongue is mixed with the coppery blood. The world spins around him, an ever-tightening spiral, and all he can see is what isn’t there anymore.
He lost.
“-and then he started doing the yellow sparkling thing he does all the time –”
Tony comes back to the present, to Peter. His heart spills over, five years of accumulated guilt and failure bleeding out of him, mixing with awe and gratitude at the sight of the kid who is rambling and jittering with nervous energy, who is so absolutely and incredibly alive. Tony’s arms are closing tightly around him before he knows it.
It worked.
All that’s left to do is to get the cursed gauntlet away from Thanos. Once he lets Peter go, that’s what Tony concentrates on, fuelled by the kid’s energy and the knowledge that they are closer to winning now than ever.
Then there’s Strange.
“You said one out of fourteen million we win, yeah?” Tony asks, torn between hope and desperation – let it be over, just let it be over now – “Tell me this is it.”
“If I tell you what happens, it won't happen.“ The magician’s eyes are sad and honest when he replies.
And Tony knows somewhere deep inside, but he doesn't have the courage to ask. He can't - not now - because saying the words out loud will make them inevitable.
“You better be right,” he replies instead, his heart beating hard and fast.
An energy explosion rips the air, throwing them all off their feet, the gauntlet hitting the ground.
Tony makes a run for it, but Thanos throws him down before he can get to it. Thor appears from nowhere and launches at Thanos, Cap following like a slightly smaller copy of the thunder god, and Tony has to admit that the two of them look sort of impressive. But Thanos beats both of them down and even the fiery alien that carried a fucking space ship back to earth is no match for the Titan. That’s when the flicker of hope he has foolishly allowed himself is extinguished.
And Tony rises to his feet again. Peter isn’t there to help him up this time, busy fighting aliens and riding magical unicorns and god, when has the world become such a strange place? Tony’s tired, so tired of fighting. He’s never longed so much for the softness of his couch those times when Morgan falls asleep in his lap and traps him there. But there’s a universe at stake, so he pushes himself up with a groan and gets ready to attack.
And then...
Then the Bleeker Street Magician looks him straight in the eyes and raises one scarred, trembling finger. For five years Tony has wondered why he wouldn’t fix his hands with magic, but in this moment, he thinks maybe he gets it. Maybe it’s the same reason Tony has never tried to fix the scars on his chest. Because sometimes visible reminders of the past are needed.
There was no other way.
And Tony knows.
His days have been limited from the start, and he would have probably died of an overdose somewhere at a party if he hadn’t been captured in an Afghan cave, so he should be glad, really. And he tells that to himself when he leaps at Thanos, using the last cheap trick up his sleeve. He tells himself that this is how it all should end.
He tells himself that it’s okay, that he doesn’t mind dying because it’s for Morgan and Pepper and Peter and Happy and Rhodey and even Steve Fucking Rogers - everyone he holds dear and even those he doesn’t. It’s for the whole goddamn universe, and it should be okay, he should really be okay with it. But the truth is, he doesn’t want to die.
Five years is a long time to keep tricking yourself into believing that happiness might be possible, even if peace isn’t.
But this time, there’s no way out. He’s known it all along, somewhere deep, deep down.
Tony opens his mouth, because if he goes down, he’s sure as hell going down with a punchline.
“And I...am...Iron Man.”
For Morgan, he thinks. For Pepper. For Peter.
He snaps.