Chapter Text
The air tasted of ozone and burnt metal. Thanos forced the gauntlet on—the surge of power emanating from the Stones as they lit up in a sign of victory was visible across the battlefield.
Tony caught Strange’s eye. The wizard’s face was a mask of blood and deep, quiet regret as he raised one trembling finger. Tony didn’t need to be a genius to know why his life had been saved on Titan. He didn't think; he lunged.
His nanotech whined as it fought to reshape itself around the Titan’s wrist. Thanos shook him off as if he were nothing more than a piece of scrap metal. Tony hit the battle-torn ground hard, the impact rattling his teeth. He watched, breathless, as Thanos raised his hand. The Titan’s fingers were poised for the final, world-ending snap.
"I am inevitable," Thanos rumbled, his voice thick with a terrifying, absolute certainty as he looked down at Tony in triumph.
Then, the snap.
A hollow metallic click echoed through the ruins, but nothing happened. Thanos frowned, turning the gauntlet over to find the slots where the stones had been were nothing but dark, empty holes. He looked back at Tony, his face slack with shock.
Tony staggered to his knees. Holding his right gauntlet up, he turned it so that the back of his hand faced the Titan. The nanites shifted the Stones into place, the power already burning into the armor. As they clicked into position, the power surged through him—a white-hot agony that threatened to tear him apart. He locked eyes with Thanos, his breathing heavy, ragged, and defiant.
"And I... am... Iron Man," he whispered.
Tony snapped. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath. Then, a silence swallowed the screams of Thanos’s army as they began turning to dust. Thanos watched as his army was undone, falling to his knees in final defeat before he, too, dissolved into nothingness.
The pain wasn't a sensation; it was a physical weight, a jagged tide of fire searing from his blackened fingertips to his very soul. His legs turned to water. He stumbled, catching himself against a hunk of concrete that felt miles away as he slid down to the rubble-covered ground, leaning against the debris.
Silence followed—heavy and absolute. Rhodey was there instantly, the War Machine mask retracting into the suit. He didn't speak; he didn't have to. His face was filled with grief. His hand, calloused and familiar, carded through Tony’s hair, an anchor in the rising gray.
Suddenly, a blur of red and blue crashed into the frame beside Rhodey, hands trembling against Tony’s scorched chest plates. "Hey, Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It’s Peter. We won, Mr. Stark. We won!" Peter cried, his hands shaking. "You did it, sir, you did it. Mr. Stark? I’m sorry. Tony—"
The boy’s voice was a tinny echo at the far end of a long tunnel. Tears shimmered in Peter's eyes, and a different, sharper pain hitched in Tony's chest. Then the air shifted. Pepper had arrived. She gently moved the crying Peter into Rhodey’s arms with a quiet strength, so different from his own. Tony’s heart slowed. The panic ebbed.
“Hey…” Pepper whispered as she placed her hand over the arc reactor.
He managed a ghost of a whisper—"Hey, Pep”—as he dragged his left hand upward. His fingers, weak and trembling, covered hers over the cooling arc reactor.
"Tony, we're going to be okay," she said, her voice a steady light in the encroaching dark. "You can rest now."
He wished he could check on his kids and Rose up in Tennessee. Peter and the Wizard were the only ones he knew for sure had returned, though he hoped the others had, too. He wanted to see them one more time and know for certain that they had returned. Harley, Emily, and Rose would be devastated. But to bring them back—to keep them safe—he knew he would do it all again.
He knew he could count on Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy to be there for them. They would keep each other safe.
The light of the Stones dimmed. The roar faded to a hum. And finally, for the first time in years, the genius was still. Tony took one last breath and surrendered. He slipped into the inky blackness, Pepper’s face the last thing he saw before the darkness edging his vision caused the sight to fade—the final, shimmering anchor of his life.
Peace followed. It was a slow, sweeping tide that washed away the agony, leaving him hazy and weightless. He drifted on a warm current that finally smoothed over the jagged edges of his frantic mind.
Peter’s voice echoed—'We won’—a final confirmation that his loved ones were safe. Pepper had given him permission. She was telling him that they would be okay. He didn’t want to leave them, but he was so tired. He didn’t expect death to be so peaceful; it was a gentle, warm drifting toward something.
Then, an explosion of colors surrounded him. Swirls of gem-toned lights pulsed against his eyelids, vivid enough to feel like a physical touch. Emerald and citrine. Sapphire and amethyst. As he tried to pry his eyes open, the emerald and spessartine throbbed with a rhythmic intensity.
Then came the ruby—a shade as bright and defiant as the suit of the boy he'd just left behind—erupting in a blinding glow. With the lights came the voices. They weren't spoken so much as felt, overlapping like a thousand radio stations caught in a cosmic storm:
"Things must change," the sound of multiple voices whispered at once.
“The destruction of the Stones causes universal destruction.”
"You must gather us together."
"We will aid you. Those you most trust and others will be sent to aid you."
"Change what you must, Futurist."
The voices caused a cold feeling of dread to cut through the warmth of the void like a surgical blade. Hadn’t they won? Thanos was dead. His army was dust. The team would return the Stones… right?
"You must stop the Titan again."
Suddenly, the yellow light surged. It pulsed with the heat of a dying sun, an absolute radiance that drowned out the whispers until there was nothing left but a blinding, golden roar. The air shifted as the golden light coalesced into a singular, haunting resonance.
“Champion, you have suffered much, but we ask that you fix what has been broken," the voice vibrated within his mind. "I will repair the damage to your mind that the Witch and others have caused. Space will protect you through the reactor. Time will guide you. We will return you to the point where the damage can be corrected. Those you trust most shall follow. Your memories will remain. I will guard your minds.”
A sensation—like cold water rushing over an overheated engine—swept through Tony's head. It was a mental scouring, cleaning away decades of trauma and fog, leaving behind a terrifying, calm, crystalline clarity.
But the peace was short-lived. His thoughts spun toward the faces he had left behind: Pepper. Rhodey. Happy. Morgan. Peter. Harley. Emily. FRIDAY. And what about the others?
“Be calm; those you love and can trust will be returned to you.”
The orange light spoke next. “Your sacrifice proves that you are worthy to wield our powers; you did not want us for yourself. You are the only one who sacrifice yourself to gain me, rather than sacrificing someone or something else. That has always been the true test to gain my powers on Vormir. For this, our powers will not harm you again.”
Tony was confused. “What about Natasha’s sacrifice? Wouldn’t her actions have counted too?”
“The one known as Natasha did not have pure intentions. Her actions were based on her desire to gain access to my power to redeem herself, so that she would finally be remembered as a hero and not a Widow. You did not want to use us at all. If not for the influence of the Witch, you would have never created time travel. You wouldn’t have even done it to bring back the children and loved ones you had lost. Think, Champion: now that your mind is no longer clouded by the Witch, what happened when the one known as Professor Hulk snapped to return those who had been dusted?”
Instantly, Tony knew what had happened. They had returned to the places where they had disappeared—planes, cars, boats, and even buildings that were no longer there after five years. The planets themselves had moved. The numbers were staggering; hundreds of trillions would have died again.
“You now realize what the Witch caused, along with Captain America, through her meddling in your and the Hulk’s minds. She did this so that she and the Captain could gain our power to bring back the ones called Vision and James Barnes.
“Even now, those you love sacrifice everything to prevent the rifts caused by the Titan, Captain America, and the Witch’s continuing actions from rending the multiverse apart,” the orange light concluded.
“The Titan destroyed the balance with his mad scheme and by destroying the Stones—the very cornerstones that hold your universe together,” the purple light’s voice boomed, vibrating in his very marrow. “But Captain America caused it to unravel faster. By his selfish action of returning to the past and remaining there, he further shattered the integrity of the timestream. The Witch undoes all the efforts your loved ones make to stop its destruction with her own selfish actions.”
Tony tried to gasp, his spirit thrashing in the golden light. Fury, hot and sharp, surged through him. Those sanctimonious, manipulative, self-absorbed, mind-raping, lying sons of bitches. The panic was a living thing now, clawing at his throat as he fought to move—to do something. He needed to go back. He needed to fix—
The orange light suddenly surrounded him. “Be calm, Champion," it commanded, soothing his panic. "You will be returned. We will aid you where we can. Gather your allies, plan your strategies... and your revenge.”
All the jeweled lights suddenly grew brighter, but the green light quickly drowned out the others, until that was all there was. “Seek out my guardians; they will aid you,” its whisper was the last thing he heard.
Tony awoke to a deep, rhythmic thrumming. The floor beneath him vibrated with the power of massive engines. He stayed perfectly still; his breath hitched as he felt the phantom pain in his chest, but it quickly faded. His mind knew where he was instantly without having to open his eyes—a gift from the Mind Stone, perhaps.
A slight, dull throb radiated from his right shoulder, his arm pinned in a stiff, useless sling. He wasn't alone. Someone was leaning against him—a solid, muscled shoulder and head—a familiar warmth he recognized even in the dark. A man he could always count on. Rhodey.
He took a deep breath, his heart soaring. His Platypus was right there—solid, real, and whole for the first time since that horrific moment when he fell from the sky. But the ecstasy vanished, replaced by a cold constriction in his chest. What if Rhodey didn’t remember yet?
Taking another deep, calming breath, he realized the arc reactor hummed against his chest, not in his chest like it had been the first time around. After another slow, deep breath, he realized he didn’t feel any restrictions at all; it was like he had never had open-heart surgery or the reactor in him at all.
As he thought back to the initial attack, he now had two overlapping memories of what happened: the original where he ended up with the reactor in his chest, and the other, where he had made it to another group of rocks but had been knocked out. The Reality Stone?
The metal felt warmer than it ever had the first time around—a gift from the Space Stone, perhaps? He had never lost the feeling of the cold metal casing in his sternum, even after the surgeries to repair it.
He opened his eyes, and the world snapped into focus: the utilitarian wood paneling of a DV Comfort Pallet. This one featured individual leather-covered recliners that he could see through the door on the right, but he and Rhodey were in the executive suite, seated on one of the two couches lining the walls. To the left, he caught a glimpse of the small bedroom and the door leading to the bathroom.
He remembered Rhodey ordering them last time to be given some space on the flight back—not wanting Tony to feel crowded on the long flight home from Afghanistan, bound for Edwards AFB. Tony straightened up slowly, keeping his movements fluid so as not to wake Rhodey.
He carefully undid the safety harness, then moved his left arm to pull his shirt open at the neck to look down at his chest. Sitting where the old reactor should have been was his Bleeding Edge reactor. It had a halo of glowing red around it—the same light that had been in the limbo he had just left.
Rhodey stirred, his eyes cracking open as he felt Tony move. "Tones? You okay? You’re shaking," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion.
"I'm fine, Rhodey," Tony whispered, letting go of his shirt and letting his arm drop—the words catching in his throat. "I just... I'm really glad you're here."
Rhodey let out a dry, tired chuckle. "Where else would I be? You’re stuck with me, man. Just try to get some sleep. We're almost home."
Tony leaned back against his best friend, his mind racing through the echoes of—what? Limbo.
‘Change things.’
He certainly intended to. But first, he needed to map out what strings he would need to pluck—the chords that would create the right kind of melody to reshape the future. He made a mental note to sit down with JARVIS and—
JARVIS.
The name hit him like a physical blow. Tony drew a sharp, stinging breath through his nose, fighting the sudden, fierce moisture behind his eyes. He was back. He was back before the scepter, before the madness of Ultron, before his first true AI "child" was torn apart and repurposed. JARVIS was alive. JARVIS was waiting for him at home.
He forced himself to focus, taking deep, calming breaths as he shoved the overwhelming emotions away to deal with later. Right now, he needed to concentrate.
‘Universal destruction.’
Thanos’s plan to kill half the universe, and then his destruction of the Stones, must have caused a chain reaction of some kind that affected the multiverse.
‘Captain America caused it to unravel faster by returning to the past and remaining there; he further shattered the integrity of the timestream.’
‘The Witch undoes all their efforts to stop its destruction with her selfish actions.’
The Stones had spoken of sacrifice. That was Peter's brand, wasn't it? The kid who would give up his last breath just to do the right thing. Tony ran the math. If it was May 2008, Peter was only six years old. He was in Queens, already living with May and Ben.
Harley was six now, too, and his sister, Emily, had just turned two—which meant they had already been abandoned by their deadbeat dad, as he had left them in December 2006. That left Rose, their mother, as the sole provider for them.
Tony stared at the carpeted floor, feeling the vibrations of the plane through the shoes Rhodey had packed for him, including the suit he now wore. He had five years before the spider bite. Five years to build a world where Peter and Harley didn't have to carry the weight of the universe on their teenage shoulders. But they were alive and here, he had a chance to be there for them earlier this time. He just had to find a way to slide into his kids’ lives without looking like a billionaire stalker.
Beside him, Rhodey shifted. The movement was violent, jostling Tony. Rhodey gave a loud groan, his head dropping into his hands as if his skull was splitting open.
“Are you okay, Platypus?” Tony asked worriedly as he watched his best friend.
Rhodey’s head snapped up. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, teary, and impossibly terrified. He unbuckled the safety harness and scrambled to his feet, his gaze darting around the DV compartment like a trapped animal before finally locking onto Tony.
Tony offered a trembling smile. Before he could say a word, Rhodey lunged, pulling him into a fierce, protective embrace careful of the arm in the sling, but ignored the slight swaying of the plane.
"Tony? What the fuck is going on?" Rhodey’s voice was a ragged whisper against his ear. After everything they had been through, he didn’t trust that the room wasn’t bugged with listening or video recording devices.
He pulled them back down onto the couch they had just vacated. "You died! I watched you die, and then I watched them buried you!" Rhodey said in a desperate whisper.
Tony wrapped his good arm around Rhodey’s back. He couldn't speak—his throat felt like it was filled with hot glass—so he just held on. After everything they’d been through, from MIT to the literal end of the world, Rhodey was the one thing that never changed.
"Tones? Is this 2008?" Rhodey asked.
Tony pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "Yeah. The Stones gave me a message, Platypus. We have to do a reset; things didn’t turn out like we’d hoped," he whispered.
Rhodey’s expression shifted from terror to a grim, soldierly focus. "I think I remember some of it, but the last thing I remember is going to bed and then swirling colors? Voices that sound like they’re inside your head?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah. Whispering."
Rhodey shifted, positioning himself to shield Tony from view, his mouth close to Tony's ear. "We land in twenty minutes. Who else gets the 'VIP' pass?"
"Hopefully Pepper and Happy. Harley and Peter are just kids right now; I don’t know if I want them to remember all the bad things that have happened."
"And Morgan, Emily, Rose, and May?" Rhodey questioned.
Tony closed his eyes. The memory of his two daughters—one who had yet to be born, and one who was in Tennessee hit him hard. The coparents, Rose and May Parker, whom he had shared custody with… the fact that none of them remembering him anymore hit him like a physical blow.
"I don’t know," he whispered. "The Stones said that all of my loved ones would be returned to me, but I don’t know how or when."
"Anyone else?" Rhodey asked, as he gave his best friend a reassuring squeeze.
"They gave me a gift from 2023 I’ve got the B.E.A. on me. I haven’t tried yet, but I might have FRI with me. The Stones said they’d send the 'most trusted and others.’ Definitely not going to be Cap’s stubborn ass or the Witch," Tony replied, his voice going cold with fury.
Rhodey reached out, cupping the back of Tony’s neck. "I’ve got your back if you want to try it out."
"Maybe my Blue Meanie will come back to, or maybe the raccoon—as long as he keeps his sticky paws to himself," Tony whispered, trying to put off finding out whether FRIDAY had come back or not.
“I don’t know; if you were an animal, I could totally see you as a raccoon, Tones,” Rhodey teased. Before Tony could defend himself, Rhodey turned back in his seat and leaned his head back, eyes almost closed.
“No time like the present, Tones,” he whispered, knowing that Tony would continue to put it off until there was an emergency if not forced to check now.
Tony gave Rhodey a small nod, as he leaned his head back against the leather of the couch, closing his eyes as if the flight was finally catching up to him.
Time to see if I brought the ghost in the machine back with me, Tony thought.
He didn’t move his lips. Instead, he used the barest twitch of his vocal cords—a subvocalized “ping” that the nanites tethered to his throat picked up instantly. “FRIDAY? You there, baby girl? Tell me I’m not the only one in the suit here.”
For a heartbeat, there were only the low-frequency vibrations of the C-17’s engines. Then, a spark of familiar Irish warmth bloomed directly against his auditory nerves. It wasn’t a sound from the room; it was a voice that lived inside his skull.
“What have you gotten us into now, Boss? And you need to stop dying, or almost dying. It’s messing with my programming. Running biometric scans now,” FRIDAY sassed. Her voice was a steady whisper, but there was a hint of worry in her Irish lilt.
“Scan complete. Other than a few contusions, scrapes, bruising, the most damaging injury is to your right shoulder, which, per my scans, has almost healed from a level one separated shoulder. You are also under weight and suffering from a mild case of starvation. Per your medical records of this time period, you should have more serious injuries and medical issues from your time in captivity.”
“Yeah I got some help from the magical rocks which is how we’re here.” Tony whispered sub vocally.
“Well, at least it’s not the first time we’ve time traveled though, I must say, Boss, trying to talk to the 2008 local network is… adorable. It’s like trying to have a conversation with a cassette player,” FRIDAY informed him.
Tony felt a ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t open his eyes, but a tiny, translucent gold icon flickered in the bottom right of his vision—a retina HUD that only he could see.
“Diagnostic on your matrix, the reactor and Extremis,” he thought back, his pulse skipping as he watched the digital readout scroll across the darkness of his eyelids.
“My matrix is running at optimal processing speed although I’m currently localized to the suits reactor housing through the nanites. This is adequate for now, but I’m going to need some room to move if you want any help other than operating the suit and the nanites. The Mark 50 housing is at 95% capacity and should be at full capacity within the next two hours. The 30% Extremis that you have is working within its standard operational parameters,” FRIDAY reported.
“Good let me know if anything changes. I’ll be introducing you to your older brother in a few hours,” Tony stated.
“I look forward to it boss. I’ve always wanted to meet my big bro JARVIS,” FRIDAY replied before shutting down the Hud.
Tony sagged in relief before he turned to lean against Rhodey’s shoulder so he could whisper in his ear. “Looks like I have an appointment this FRIDAY. Remind me to book the meeting through JARVIS when we get to the mansion, would you, Platypus?”
“I’ll remind you. I’m sure JARVIS will make sure everything goes smoothly on FRIDAY.” Rhodey agreed.
“Hey, Honey Bear?” Tony asked after a few moments of quiet silence.
“Yeah, Tones?” Rhodey prompted.
“Did I ever tell you that you have sexy legs? I bet you could walk miles with those legs. Want to take a run on the beach at the mansion?” Tony asked wanting to know if his Honey Bear had realized he had his legs back.
That caused the Lt. Colonel’s eyes to pop wide open. He sat up and looked down at Tony, his breath catching as he processed the hidden meaning. He surreptitiously flexed his toes, feeling the perfect, unassisted connection to his muscles that he hadn’t felt in years.
“My legs, Tony!” he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of shock and pure, raw joy.
“Yeah, I know mine are sexier, but you come in a close third,” Tony rushed on before Rhodey could say anything else. “By the way, wasn’t there some sort of debrief thing you wanted me to go to when we land?”
He was thinking of the last timeline, when he had blown off the debrief with the brass, just to turn around and have a press conference and announce that he was shutting down weapons without giving Rhodey or the military any kind of heads-up---or even a reason why. Later, S.H.I.E.L.D. had covered up Stane's death and the double dealing, which had left him with the fallout.
Rhodey took a shaky breath, forcing his military mask back into place, though his eyes still shimmered with disbelief. “A formal debriefing, yes. The brass is going to want a full account of the attack, the cave, and exactly how you managed to walk out of that desert alone. We’re bound for Edwards AFB; they’ll have a room waiting.”
“Wait, why am I only third with great legs who’s number one and two?” Rhodey questioned in mock offense at the perceived slight.
“Well obviously Pepper is number one, she’s the only one I know who can full out sprint in three inch heels and of course I’m number two.” Tony said with a smug smirk.
The conversation was cut short by a knock on the cabin door. Once Rhodey gave permission to enter, a loadmaster notified them of their final approach. Tony looked at her; he was reminded of the young woman and two men who had died in the Afghan desert while trying to save his life.
The first time around, he hadn't even learned their names; he’d had Pepper take care of it. Not this time. He swallowed hard. He would meet their families personally and help in any way they would accept; it would be the least he could do.
The plane touched down with the jarring vibration of rubber hitting tarmac. Rhodey tightened the straps on the wheelchair the medics had insisted on, but Tony’s focus was miles—and years—away. He thought of 2008 Pepper. His Pepper of 2023.
Back in 2008, she had been his personal assistant, she had spent ten years dealing with his childish behavior while enduring the world's condescension. In the original timeline, he’d thrown her into the position of CEO which had caused even more innuendo and condescension from both the board and other employees, not to mention the press. Granted, that had been when he thought he was dying. He wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with the position at that time, and he knew she would soar and soar she had. But it had taken her years to shake off the stigma caused by her sudden rise to CEO.
And still, she had taken the billion-dollar international company and turned it into a multi-billion-dollar global empire. He didn’t deserve her, but he’d do his damnedest to do things right this time. The last thing he had seen before dying had been his Pepper of 2023—his wife, the mother of one of his daughters, and she had been in her Rescue suit. He didn't know what he was going to do with himself while he waited for her to get her memories back. Hopefully, it would be like with his Platypus, and he would only have to wait a little while for her return.
The cargo ramp lowered with a heavy, grinding groan, admitting a flood of blinding California sunlight. There was a distinct “pop” in Tony’s ears and a rush of hot, dry Mojave Desert air that mixed with the scent of the tarmac and jet fuel. Tony felt his heart skip—literally—as the jet engines’ whine slowed to a stop.
When the ramp was completely down, Tony could now see the familiar vast site of Edwards Air Force Base, the ambulance, and Pepper with Happy standing behind her.
He pushed himself out of the wheelchair, ignoring the waiting gurney with a practiced roll of his eyes. He pulled his 'Tony Stark' mask into place—the cocky tilt of the head, the razor-sharp smirk—but his hands were trembling.
Rhodey stepped in close, his shoulder a steadying weight. "Easy, Tones. I’m right here," Rhodey whispered, his voice low enough for only Tony to hear. “You’ve got this."
But Tony’s eyes were locked on her. His Pepper. She stood like a pillar of sanity in the shimmering desert heat—a slim figure in a black pantsuit, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a sharp, professional ponytail. She looked so young to him now, without the stress of the years they had lived through.
Tony followed Rhodey, allowing his friend to guide him down the ramp until they stopped right in front of her.
Tony squared his shoulders, trying to find the ghost of the man he used to be. "Your eyes are red," he said, his voice thinner than he intended. "A few tears for your long-lost boss?"
"For the man who always finds a way to come back? Always." With a smile on her face, Pepper didn't miss a beat, but her voice held a weight it shouldn't have had yet. "Plus, I hate job hunting. And I’d prefer not to have to stab that bastard Stane with my Manolo Blahnik stilettos."
Pepper leaned closer, looking as if she were adjusting his suit jacket, before looking him dead in the eyes and whispered fiercely, “You better have a good explanation for this, Tony!”