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The blast had brought Earth’s mightiest heroes to their knees.
Tony found irony in the moment; Thanos’ first snap all those years ago had brought Earth’s mightiest heroes to their knees, too, not from injury but from unbearable, paralyzing grief.
It was Thor’s snap this time that had them all knocked off of their feet, Thor’s cry of anguish and flash of lightning that rendered most of them unconscious on the ash of the battlefield.
Those years lost were suddenly washing over Tony from head to toe, taking his breath away and crushing his heart in his chest all over again. He felt the five years of mourning in the rumble of the Earth, in the break in Thor’s throat.
Thor snapped for the universe, but in a much more real sense, he snapped for his brother.
Tony could understand that. More than anyone, Tony could understand that.
Thor’s gut-wrenching battle cry and the blinding light of the infinity stones were followed closely by deafening silence rolling over the hills of ash on which they fought, the remains of their home smeared across Earth’s surface like a stain.
Tony knew this particular brand of silence. It was almost too loud, swimming with one thought he remembered all too well on the same ashy ground on Titan.
Something’s happening.
Ash began dancing in the gentle new wind, achingly and horrifyingly familiar. The Chitauri were fading in place, evaporating into the smolders below as they caved in on themselves.
Vanishing. Evaporating on an atomic scale.
...Something Tony had once wanted to do so badly, had wanted more than any kind of future he could dream up.
Tony’s eyes numbly trailed their way over to Thanos as he kneeled, heaving exhausted breaths.
He knew the feeling. When you watched your child heave the same exhausted, raspy breaths, watched helplessly as their lungs and everything else inside vanished atom by atom, you felt it just as vividly.
You aren’t spared from the feeling in the slightest when it’s your everything that’s disappearing.
Tony felt no sympathy this time. He hoped Thanos choked on every last breath, choked on his own blood bubbling in his throat and felt every atom shred into nothing.
He felt no remorse as Thanos lifted his head, glassy eyes making contact with Tony’s. Thanos’ lip quirked in disgust.
An ungrateful universe.
And just like that, he was gone.
Tony hung his head. He hummed.
Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
Tony took that moment to scan the battlefield, Earth’s mightiest heroes rising like Phoenixes from the ashes.
Some, quite literally.
Because there they were: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, T’Challa, Shuri, Stephen Strange...all taking their first relieved breaths after having breathed what they thought would be their last all those years ago.
Tony’s breath hitched in this throat when he caught a glimpse of Peter’s backside as he lay seemingly lifeless on the smoldering grounds of the compound, unmoving and blood smeared.
He couldn’t find it in him to cry out in alarm, couldn’t find it in him to lurch forward and hold his kid in his arms even as he watched Steve race to Peter’s side, brows pinched together as he scanned the teenager from head to toe.
Blood was pounding behind his eyes. His throat closed so tight he swore he couldn’t breathe. His ears, his entire head felt like it was underwater.
”...elp! Help...!...Queens...ake up!”
Tony’s vision blurred. His mouth parted in numb surprise.
If he took a step forward, he would be acknowledging that this was real. If he took a step forward and held Peter in his arms, his kid could just die in them all over again.
But if he stayed right here, right where his feet were glued to the ashes, he wouldn’t have to face that possibility.
And god, this had been his exact fear. This had been the exact reason Tony hadn’t wanted to go gallivanting around time with Steve and his circus troupe in the first place.
His heart simply could not handle the hope. Couldn’t withstand another round of maybe, just maybe I could hold him again, could watch him grow old.
This was why he had been fine with his second chance.
This was why he couldn’t afford to take that step, couldn’t afford to watch Peter die and be pulled right back down into the pits of grief.
Instead, he’ll just watch through tears that blur his vision too much to see. He’ll say he saw it coming, or at least claim he did, and he won’t have to hurt again.
Coward.
But then Tony’s mouth went dry, his vision cleared just in time for him to see his kid lurch from the ground violently because, at some point during Tony’s self-pitying stupor, Rhodey had been performing chest compressions.
Peter was sitting up. Peter was coughing, wretching into the ground beside him.
But he was sitting up.
Awake. Alive.
Breathing.
And Tony knew then, at that exact moment, that this was real. That he wasn’t some shell of a man, frozen in time and trapped in his own grief, because as soon as Peter had a right mind, he was looking for him.
”Mis’er Stark?”
Tony held his breath. He pinched his brows together, swallowing thickly and trying to convince himself that this had to be real.
”Tony! Tony-“
Rhodey was putting a hand on Peter’s chest. “Kid, kid, hey-“
”No, no, no, where the hell is-“
”Kid, dammit, you’ve gotta hold still.”
“P-Peter!”
Tony’s voice was quiet, it was cracking, but Peter heard it like a battle cry, was snapping his head toward Tony in an instant and holding his gaze there for longer than he should’ve.
The world around them was disappearing in all its’ restored glory, spinning to a halt and focusing in on two broken people, convincing themselves that the other was real.
And, just as it had all those years, Thanos’ voice was echoing in Tony’s head, reverberating around the walls of his skull and weighing heavy on his soul.
I thought that by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive.
Tony took a weary, desperate step forward, his denial melting off of him and his chest blooming to make room again for his child he had long since convinced himself he had already mourned.
But you have shown me... that's impossible.
Peter was stepping forward, too, a protective arm cradling his ribs as he limped desperately forward.
As long as there are those that remember what was...
He was so close. Tony had held Peter in his arms for a split second on the battlefield, knee-deep in denial and soul crushed in fresh grief, but this time would be real. This time would be Peter, feeling solid in his arms, breathing and alive.
...there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be.
Peter all but stumbled into Tony’s arms after an eternity of tripping over himself just to get there. The feeling was achingly familiar; Peter, his kid, crying and limping and falling into Tony’s arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.
The only difference now was Peter’s limp was no longer a direct result of his right leg disappearing from under him, atom by atom.
They were both melting to their knees upon contact, holding each other fiercely and using every last drop of energy from the battle to cling to that moment, to that feeling.
Reborn. Renewed. Revived.
Found.
They said nothing at first, catching their breaths as they held each other, eyes squeezed tight as if any wrong movement may cause the other to vanish.
”We won,” Peter said eventually, his grip on his mentor not faltering for even a moment. Tony considered the possibility that Peter was so numb with shock that he was just saying the first thing he could think of. “We-we won, Mis’er Stark. Everything is gonna be okay.”
Tony opened his eyes for a moment, staring blankly ahead, his kid’s haphazard curls blowing about in the corner of his eye.
Peter was comforting...him.
That...that should be the other way around.
Tony swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and brought a hand to cradle Peter’s head, petting his curls and digging his face into his kid’s shoulder.
”I...”
I...what do I...
What does one say in this situation?
”I missed you.”
The confession burned and ached and stung all over, bringing with it an entirely new wave of grief that paralyzed him and rendered him more broken yet more whole than ever before.
Because Tony had spent so many years pushing that feeling away. It was so strong, so powerful that it had the ability to stop his heart and take his life.
For Pepper and for Morgan both, he had been suppressing that feeling for longer than he wished to acknowledge.
He told himself he didn’t miss him. He told himself that their relationship wasn’t what he remembered it to be. He told himself that Peter hadn’t needed Tony as much as Tony needed Peter.
And thank god not one word of that was true.
Tony sucked in a sharp, shaky inhale, trembling all over as he brought Peter close, so close that he could feel the gentle thrum of his heartbeat in his chest.
“I missed you.”
Peter’s eyes glossed over immediately at the repentance, bottom lip quivering as he buried his face into the crook in Tony’s neck and wept.
Tony hated when Peter cried.
I don’t know what’s-what’s happening-
“I missed you.”
I don’t want to go, sir.
”I missed you so much, kid.”
Please, sir, I don’t want to go.
”I...I’m sorry, Peter.”
Peter shook his head.
Oh, how badly he had wanted the whole “five years” thing to be some sort of sick, twisted lie.
“M’ sorry, Tony. I didn’t-I didn’t mean to-“
”Don’t apologize,” Tony interjected hastily, the hand on Peter’s head softening its hold as if the body in his arms were made of glass. “Don’t ever, ever apologize.”
Peter exhausted himself in Tony’s arms, existence weighing heavy on a restored planet in a restored universe in the arms of a restored man.
“I love you,” Tony said.
Tony and Peter’s relationship had always been one that was rather...implied. Some things had always been better left unsaid back when they were both alive and well, fighting crime in the streets of New York and pretending to be as oblivious as possible to the threats looming in the stars.
They fought without speaking. They built without speaking.
They loved without speaking.
Because those times when Peter got hurt and Tony had to control a heart attack at the mere idea...that was I love you.
Those times when Peter jumped in front of Tony protectively during a battle, hand held out in front of his mentor as a fire burned in his eyes...that was I love you.
Those times Tony would text Peter and ask “how was school?” or “any exciting homework today?”...that was I love you.
...And the time Peter withered away in Tony’s hold, atom by atom, piece by piece, glossy eyes staring helplessly up at the stars before turning to Tony regretfully, using his very last breath to tell Tony he was sorry...
That was I love you in its most vulnerable form.
That was I want to stay right here, with you.
I don’t want to go.
Peter pulled out of the hug tiredly, blood smeared face illuminated in the pale sun setting in the west, a profound relief unlike any other covering him in warmth so nauseating he was hugging exhausted breaths and fighting to stay awake.
”...I love you too.”
⎊
Pepper and Rhodey found them both asleep on the smoldering grounds of the battlefield, leaning on each other’s backs.
There was no protocol, not rulebook. There was no preparation or recovery following the utter destruction they were facing, the billions of dollars worth of building they were standing on.
But there was...hope.
Because shining bright like a sprout growing from the smolders were these two people, broken yet whole and alive yet, in a much more real sense, utterly lifeless before their eyes.
There was hope to follow the madness. There was a future to follow this broken, unbearable past.
Pepper and Rhodey glanced to each other because Rhodey was pulling her into his arms and smiling at the sight, relieved and whole and found again.
Pepper needed to remind Tony to install a camera into her suit next time.
This picture would look lovely next to that framed photo resting on the kitchen shelf.
