Chapter Text
Tony wakes up after 5 years from Endgame to a world he doesn't recognise. When he snapped, he was as dead for as long as the blip lasted. Being legally dead, he is forced onto the streets he has never set in before outside of Stark Tower. At least he knows someone familiar with the neighbourhoods: Peter Parker.
Or: Tony Stark traded 5 years from his life to fix the blip indirectly, and now he's looking for his traumatized kid that doesn't exist.
He woke up with a sudden gasp, pain warping around his body in no way any tech could cause. He understood how it felt to have chest pains before: an old man with a poor functioning heart, but this was different. Nothing like cardiac arrest or the loss of his arc reactor.
He couldn't sit up properly, his entire right side of the body protesting furiously. Neither did he have the strength to sit uo without arm support. So he rolled onto his left side, coughing and spluttering for air. Despite being in so much pain, there was nothing visible. Maybe internal? Oh god, what if its appendicitis!? They always say that the pain starts on the right-
Focus, Tony.
What did he remember last? Being on a field, against the purple grape, the compound in rubble...
Ah, the Snap.
He snapped, didn't he? He thought he would be dead. Maybe he is. Does the afterlife exist? He's a scientist, sure, but ever since magical rainbow stones controlled the entire universe, guarded by a wizard against aliens, who was he to deny what was possible?
He looked around, trying to see if he was anywhere recognizable. Hopefully Earth. He could work with that. He'd take being back in Afghanistan over being stuck in a space ship again, he doubted he would get lucky twice.
It was.. a city. An American city, most likely. He could be in any state right now, and there was nothing predominant to pinpoint a landmark.
He has to get up.
Get up.
Grunting in pain, Tony used his left arm to push himself onto his knees, while his right arm remained uselessly limp. It was a major city, with tall buildings and bill boards.
New York?
No, no... New York was in ruins. He was unconscious, but it couldn't have been that long for the entire city to be renewed. He was still in pain. He hadn't aged or have any noticeable changes to himself to tell that time had passed for him.
A different reality?
C'mon, genius, there's reality stones. That Gamoda girl or whatever ended up coming back from a different universe, it's not to far to assume.
Maybe they could bring Natasha back.
He's done enough heroics. He wants, no, needs his family. He needs to lie down, preferably not on cold concrete, and relax, with Pepper by his side and the kid, Morgan-
Kid?
Peter!
Peter. If he can't find his family, or the other Avengers casually in the street, he has the highest chances of finding Spider-Kid. He patrols the neighbourhood. He helps regular people on the street 25/8. His kid, his mentee, will help.
Thank goodness he has a good heart. He can trust Peter. That's exactly why he wanted to bring him back.
He succeeded, right? He hugged Peter in the field as he talked at 40 miles an hour. He missed that kid. He grieved for so long. He must be alive.
That is, if Peter is in this world.
No. Don't think like that. Peter has to be here. He sacrificed everything for the kid. Have sone of the kids optimism, Stark! He's usually the happiest in the room. It can't be hard to find a guy in bright spandex swinging above the city.
He should find a map. Or a person. A person will have a map, right?
Right.
Tony went from his knees to a marriage position kneel, briefly flashing back to Pepper. His wife. Oh Thor, his wife. The love of his life. He was missing. She's going to surely give him an earful, especially after he exclaimed his safety. Does she know he's okay? He is okay. That can wait. He needs to get home, or whatever equivalent he has anymore. He jsut wants his friends, his family, his people.
He finally stood with a crack in his knee that reminded him he wasn't getting any younger, and stumbled to look around. It's so bright that his eyes hurt. The snap must've certainly fucked something up, there's no way he's this unscathed.
He suddenly came to the realization that he's in an alleyway. A disgusting, dirty, moist alleyway. Glancing around, it would be no different from any normal place. So no aliens expected. This must be some part of New York.
He hobbled out the alley, fixing himself up as he did. He may be an utter mess, but he's not that messy. He has his limits. His appearance being one of them. He's almost at his limits with how frustrated he is, but he will have to push that down if he wants help. He hates asking for help. Rhodey always insisted he was too scared proud for his own good.
His first victim of bothering was a regular guy on the street. So: confirmed no aliens, this is infact New York. Just by tapping his shoulder with a gentle "excuse me?" the man turned around and screamed, then ran off. Odd. That hurt his ears. Maybe that was just a one-off crack head.
So he continued looking. The pain in his side was getting worse, maybe he should sit down and find a bench...
There was a bench nearby next to a tree, surrounded by pigeons only 10 feet away. He quickly used the last of his energy to push and limp towards the bench, collapsing back and feeling the usual faint ache in his back when he normally sits down.
Yet as he took in his surroundings: the bread crumbs on the floor, the distant loud filler noise of cars and people, he saw a sign that confirmed his location without a need for a map.
Queens.