"Are you ready, Stark?" Captain America's voice filtered through the intercom. It sounded tinny and far away and ran down Tony's spine like ice water, making him shudder at the thought of how alone he was.

It wasn't that he was completely alone, he acknowledged as his gaze grazed his partner swiftly. Half- alien, half- android and full of spite and a blood-curdling thirst for vengeance. If he had to reverse the effects that had randomly eliminated half the universe then Nebula wasn't the worst to have on his side, not even close.

Maybe it would've been nicer if she would joke like he usually did before shit hit the fan, hiding his fear behind a mask of snark. She barely reacted to his jibes, hyper-focused on what lay before them. Which, if he was being honest, was probably a good idea.

So, no, not completely alone.

He would even go as far as to call her something akin to a friend and, without the shadow of a doubt, a trustworthy team mate. She rarely talked but she rarely had to. They were alike in a lot of ways, Tony had realized over the time they had spent together, and so very different in others. There were enough similarities and contrasts to make them work seamlessly as a team.

"I have never been readier for anything in my life," he responded after a moment, keeping his voice steady and strong through sheer force of will alone. "I've been preparing for this for two years."

It was the truth, too.

It's been two years.

Two years spent planning and training for this one final fight.

Two years grieving everyone they had lost and building their resolve to get them back.

Two years that seemed surreal and somehow realer than anything he had ever lived through.

Two years that had felt like he was being cut open by the blunt knife that was losing a kid over and over again but that had healed other parts in him with the padding of tiny footsteps and happy cries of 'Daddy'.

A lot had changed in two years and yet it felt like nothing had changed at all.

He had never really come back from Titan, at least not all parts of him. Not even the most important parts of him had made it back to earth in that clattering, rattling tin can that Starlord had called his ship.

Now he was back here on the planet where everything had been taken from him and he was about to get it all back.

Hell yeah, he was ready!

He let his mask retreat from his face and hissed when the cold air hit his face. His breath was coming out foggy, the cold a stark contrast to how he remembered the planet. As much as it hurt, the dark blue sky that had replaced the orange one he never did stop dreaming about made it easier not to fall back into the panic that was only an inch from the surface at any given time. It was easier to keep a clear head with the air cutting into his skin like a knife. The pain kept him centered.

Nebula was the first to move. She took a step towards where the man, that had called himself her father but had never been more than her tormenter, lay unconscious on the ground. Her stride didn't waver and her guard never faltered when she kneeled down beside him, pulling the gauntlet off of his cold hands with an unprecedented gentleness.

When they had made the plan, this had been the one variable they hadn't been sure of. They knew where Thanos would be but they hadn't had any idea if he was still alive and, if so, how strong he would still be. As it was, this right there was the best case scenario Tony had never counted on. It felt wrong for something so life changing to be so easy.

The moment she had pulled the gauntlet off, she let it drop to the ground with a hiss and it landed on the frozen ground with a loud clong. It was all Tony could do to stare at her burnt hand in shock.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, already moving towards her in a way he did whenever Morgan cried out in pain, but she gave her usual sharp nod and ignored him in favor of smiling down humorlessly at the man that had taken everything from her.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, ignoring the demands for information from the other side of the galaxy in both their ears. Understanding dawned on him before she started talking again and it made his stomach coil in dread but, like hers, his resolve never wavered, if anything he stood up a little straighter.

"I won't be able to wield the gauntlet," she explained for everyone they had left back on Earth but her eyes were locked with his, a silent apology that made his throat run dry. She had been so ready to die, to give her life for everyone else and to prove her worth to herself and even that had been taken from her. "The stones won't accept some machine as their master. It needs to be a living being."

Tony could hear the screams on the other side. Could hear Rogers even over Thor's loud hollering, both screaming that there had to be another way.

"Listen, Stark, don't do anything stupid," the Captain's authority bled through every word but it couldn't cover up Steve Roger's panic, "We'll find another way. We'll do it some other time. We'll send someone else up there with you."

"There is no other way, Cap," he told him gently even as he eyed the piece of metal that might very well be his downfall, "You're needed on Earth the moment our purple raisin comes back to fight you. All of you need to be there to kill him, otherwise this would have all been for nothing. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"You might not be able to live at all." Nebula's voice cut through everything else and he met her gaze, warmer than anything he had ever seen on her before. "You could die." There was a humanity bleeding through that she always covered up in fear of it being exploited.

He understood where she was coming from. Not too long ago he had been like this.

He jerked his head in a nod, tears trickling down his cheeks and freezing on his skin before they could hit his goatee. "If it's my life for half the universe… It's not even a question," he told her quietly and even quieter, almost a whisper that he was sure wouldn't be picked up on comms, he added, "My life for his life. There's no way I'm not doing this."

She understood like he knew she would but back in Wakanda Steve was still screaming.

"Stark! You can't do this! Think of your family. Think of Pepper. Damn it, think of your daughter! You can't sacrifice yourself. I won't let you."

Tony blinked the tears away, the mask coming back up to cover his face the second the nanites sensed his final decision.

(A parent choosing their kid's life over their own wasn't really a choice as much as it was a deeply ingrained instinct.)

"It's not your choice to make, Steve," he told his teammate and former friend steadily, "And you can be sure I'm going to fight it with everything I've got so I can come home to my kids. Both of them. I don't want to die." For the first time in his life there was no lie in his words.

"Rhodey," he addressed his unusually quiet best friend that he knew was listening, "You know what to do should I not make it back."

The response took nearly minute but it came because Rhodey would always have his back and Tony closed his eyes at the familiar warm in his heart when he heard the voice that had been by his side for most of his life, "I do, Tones. But I'm going to kick your ass six ways from Sunday if you don't make it back."

He couldn't bring his lips to form the 'I love you' burning on his tongue but he knew Rhodey knew. He wouldn't say goodbye. Not yet.

"Be ready," he told them, his voice strong and sure – a lie, optimism, a flicker of hope maybe? "Give him all you've got. I want you to give me a play by play about how you managed to impale the grape head when all this is over. I'm counting on it."

"We are ready, Stark." Thor's voice echoed through his helmet when it was apparent that Steve wouldn't answer. "As always, it is an honor to be fighting by your side."

Something in him steeled at the words and the images of other fights they had come out of on top flicked through his head, giving him the power to kneel next to the gauntlet and lift it up.

The moment his gloves touched the weapon, almost all of his armor assembled on his left hand, leaving only the bare minimum to cover the rest of his body. Somehow he knew that it didn't need as much protection right then.

Somehow it felt like he had been destined to do this.

And it sounded way too cheesy even in his own ears but when he picked up the only instrument in the universe that could control all six infinity stones, it molded around his reinforced hand until it fit him perfectly where it used to fit a guy three times his size.

He was almost inclined to believe in magic when his eyes traveled to the spot where his kid had disintegrated in his arms. The place where he had learned what it meant to lose something so integrally a part of him that the mere thought of going on without it killed him. And then it didn't – it hadn't killed him and living had been that much harder.

Two years.

Tony had told Steve that he didn't want to die and he had meant it but if his death meant Peter would come back then he knew he'd die at peace with himself. There was no cutting the wire for this. No way he would pass up on the opportunity or ever choose differently.

No parent should ever have to outlive their child. He had learned that the hard way and he couldn't do it one more day. If that made him selfish? Then he would let them call him that. As long as his family was alive, nothing else mattered.

The superhero closed his eyes then, blocking out the big red X that was the place he expected Peter to reappear in and concentrated on the power that surged through his body all at once.

Suddenly he could see everything, all the riddles that the no one had yet been able to answer, the reason why everything was the way it was. The pieces fell together like a puzzle – like they had always been there, only hidden from his view.

He knew and felt everything. Every soul, living or dead, that had ever walked in this galaxy was suddenly a part of him and he understood. It was too much for a mortal like him, he knew that rationally and – a distant part of him felt the pain that was surging from his left hand through his entire body.

The power he possessed in that moment almost brought him to his knees and he lost sight of why he was doing this in the first place. Only for a minute but then Peter was standing in front of him. No. That couldn't be right, he could swear his eyes were still closed.

Still, Peter was there looking up at him with his big brown eyes alight with unconditional love. Alive?

"Mr. Stark?" he asked and his voice was shaking, he sounded afraid all of the sudden and Tony hated it. Who the hell dared to scare his child like that?

"Daddy?"

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when his little girl appeared next to Peter, holding on to his legs that were still clad in the Spidersuit. And it didn't make sense. Because Morgan had never gotten to meet her big brother, had never gotten to cling to him or hide behind him when she was scared. Peter had never gotten to lay a protective hand on her head like he was doing now.

They had never –

"You have to let the stones go," they both said and they were both crying and he knew he was crying, too, felt the tears streaming down his face the same way he felt a flower way back on Earth breaking its way through the ground in need for air. He felt with every ounce of his being how life was being reformed in that moment and he basked in the joy of it but something was still wrong.

His children were still crying.

"Come back to us," they begged him, now both pulling on the gauntlet that he was now realizing was burning its way through his suit slowly but surely. "Come back," they demanded with a last tug and then he felt himself tumbling to the ground, his knees scraping over the freezing ground-

Wait. No, that wasn't right.

He blinked and tried to wrap his mind around the dusty ground lit with the bright orange of a slowly dying sun.

A hand was on his shoulder suddenly and he looked up to find Nebula staring back at him, her eyes more expressive than he had ever seen them. Was she crying? Could androids cry? Why did he feel like he had known the answer to that at some point? Why were they here on this orange planet? Why had he expected it to be frozen?

Before he could utter a single one of his questions, voices were in his ear, screaming. He flinched.

"God dammit, Stark, answer!"

"Tony I swear to fucking god if you sacrificed your stupid –"

"Are you there, Tones?"

"Nebula! What's the status?"

"Titan." The word broke through his cracked lips, rolled off his dry tongue and suddenly everything came back and his body felt too light and too heavy all at once. He couldn't hold it up so he let it drop down.

"Tones!" was the only thing that got through to him then, as well as Nebula's hand still on his shoulder.

"He's alive," she finally said, voice cracking on the two words when her eyes focused on something a little off to his side. "They're coming back."

That seemed to be the only incentive that his body needed to scramble over to the place he could find with eyes closed because he had revisited it in his dreams every night. He knew the rocks that were going to cut into his legs and the pit he would stumble into before he even took the first step.

But there was one difference to his dreams.

Where he would usually grasp at thin air, hands coming away covered in dust, his fingers now hit a solid body.

Trembling, cold and bloody. But solid. And alive?

"Peter."

The name left his lips like a lifeline. It was a plea and a curse and a prayer. He was too afraid to open his eyes, scared of not finding what he needed to see. Scared that if he wouldn't, he would die again. There was no way he could go through that a second time.

He did, though, and when his eyes found him his heart soared only to then clench painfully.

The boy's eyes were closed but his face was contorted into a painful grimace. He wasn't moving, not even a twitch of a muscle to tell him whether or not he was alive. There were no signs of any open wounds when Tony looked him up and down and because of the suit he couldn't check his breathing. Just –

His mouth twitched.

Tony fell forward, cradling him in his arms, when Peter's eyes fluttered open and stared up at him and for a moment he just looked at him. His face giving nothing away, as if he was too out of it to form facial expression, as if his muscle memory was still coming back.

"Pete," Tony whispered again, pulling him up until he was halfway sitting and he could see his eyes moving back and forth – unfocussed all of the sudden – until they came back to rest on him. He opened his mouth and-

Gibberish.

The billionaire superhero couldn't make out a single word that left the teenager's lips but he didn't have to. Peter was alive and he was breathing and he was talking and –

"Mis – Mis'er Stark?"

"Hey buddy," he whispered through tears because he couldn't raise his voice over the barely audible volume. He tried to say more but two years of grief were sitting on his chest and they pushed down on it with all their force. All the agony of life without Peter had to leave his body before he could choke out something that resembled an "Okay?" and he just hoped Peter would understand.

Peter who was alive.

Peter who was breathing heavily but he was breathing. Peter who was laying in his arms, eyes wide with shock and something wise and sad in them that Tony wished he would never have to see again. Peter who fell forward, forehead hitting Tony's shoulder. Peter who, upon contact, started shaking and sobbing in his arms.

He held the boy's trembling body that seemed so much smaller than a regular teenager right now that reminded him more of the first time he had held his newborn child. The now toddler who was waiting for him at home. And finally he gave into his own need and buried his face in the dirty, sweaty curls in a way he had never done before because they hadn't been there yet. (His words. He never regretted anything more in his life.)

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeter-

His whole being centered around the boy that was clinging to him, that allowed himself to fall completely apart in his arms. And he cried.

Tony cried for everything he had lost and for everything he just got back. He cried for everything his kid had lost and for every damn thing he would make sure he would get from now on. The tear tracks felt like burn marks, like a tattoo permanently etched into his skin to tell the world of all the loss he had to endure.

But it didn't matter. His tears didn't matter. All that mattered was the kid in his arms.

"Pete?" he whispered, trying to call onto the last piece of his soul that wasn't shattered and that now had two years of parenting practice, "Hey bud. You're alright, you're safe. I've got you." Over and over he whispered soft reassurances into his ear until Peter's sobs had quietened down to heartbreaking sniffles. All the while he was alternating between massaging his scalp and pressing a kiss into his hair. "Shh. It's okay. I'm here, Pete."

"Mis'er Stark?" The teenager's voice was muffled by his shirt and stuttering through hiccups. "I-I wa-as s-so scared. I-I'm so so-sorry. I-"

"Shh. None of that," he interrupted him gently, hand moving to his neck to hold him even closer, glad when the kid only buried into him more instead of moving way. "None of this is your fault, okay? I know you were scared but I'm here now, okay? We'll get you home and you're never going to be alone again. How's that sound?"

Peter nodded, small hands making a move to curl around Tony's shirt more firmly, "'S good. Really wanna go home," he sniffled before Tony felt his eyes flutter close against his neck.

"I'm getting you home, kid."

A promise, a vow. And the second the words had left his mouth, he felt the kid's body go limp in his arms because he trusted him to keep him safe. And Tony would. This time he would get to hold on.

A/N: LMAO, okay, so story time. Once upon a time I got a comment on here by a guest requesting a story where someone explains to Morgan why Peter calls their Dad Mr. Stark. This is obviously not it. But it was supposed to happen in this story! I got to thinking why Peter would still call him Mr. Stark when she was old enough to question that and instead of just saying "well, he just does" I went there and then I couldn't get back to where I wanted to go. I've had this written for like at least 5 months, thinking one day I'd finish it and get it to be the actual prompt but as I was reading it today and I was trying to come up with an ending it just wouldn't happen. So have this. And maybe I'll write a short piece for the actual prompt one day. Who even knows.

There's also a lot of glossing over basically anything and everything that would need explaining. So, admittedly not one of my finest works but it was fun to write and reread so I thought I'd share.

OVER AND OUT, sorry for the long note. I hope you enjoyed xx