To be honest, he is a little too oxygen deprived to fully understand what is happening. The white light continues to grow, the glow orange behind his eyelids, and his hand moves sluggishly as he lifts it to shield his face. His brow furls at the disturbance, and he can't help the small, distant thought about 'actually seeing a white light' on his trip heavenwards.
It isn't heaven though, instead, when he finally manages to peel his eyes open, he sees… an angel?
That is the only thought his oxygen-starved brain manages to latch on to, because it looks like a woman is sitting next to his ship— in space— glowing like a supernova.
He stares at her, beyond confused— and also completely incapable of even trying to deal with the situation. His brain simply does not have the capacity to comprehend what he is seeing, let alone try to grasp what it means.
Huh, it manages, his thoughts heavy and slow as he stares at the glowing woman. That's… weird.
It is a good thing Nebula is on the ship.
Once again she keeps the ball rolling, because as he sits slack jawed in his chair, far too mind-boggled to really do anything else, Nebula comes rushing up next to him, her faculties not so affected yet to render her incapable of reacting to the mini-sun next to them.
He glances over at her as she arrives, the woman almost breathless, her eyes wide as she stares at— what is it? An angel? A fairy?
He is busy trying to decide which, when the woman stops glowing outside the ship, and phases through the window to start glowing inside the ship. The light fades, until she looks just like a regular human woman, and his eyes track her dazedly as she looks him over.
"Tony Stark?" she says, and he can only blink at the fact that this fairy/angel woman knows his name. "My name is Carol Danvers," she continues, flicking her eyes up to Nebula and then back to him. "I've been looking for you."
He isn't really in a place to be helpful to Carol in any way, instead his mind sort of drifts for a while as Nebula jumps in, her eyes pinned on Carol and her mouth moving a little too fast for him to follow. The two women seem to have a lot to say to each other, but he can't really focus on their conversation much, their words washing over him without leaving much of a mark.
Nebula seems to have the situation under control though, her hands moving fast, and her voice moving faster as she gestures at him, and at the ship, and then at Carol. The angel-woman seems to at least be able to follow the conversation, and she listens intently, nodding quickly as she too glances at him, something like concern on her face.
Tony's brain is too tired to try to figure out what they are talking about— although part of him can't help feeling like he almost knows what it is— and he just lets himself sit, trying to breathe and slow his pulse a little as he waits for the fairy-angel woman and Nebula to finish talking.
It doesn't take too long before they seem to have said everything they need to say, and the woman — Carol — phases back out of his ship, her white glow lighting up the room again, before she ducks below the ship, and the light fades.
He watches the light ebb with a sort of absentminded interest, before he blinks slightly as Nebula comes over, her brow furled with concentration as she reaches up to strap him into his chair. Her movements are more flustered and agitated than he has ever seen, and it takes a few moments for him to work his tongue around in his mouth so that he can speak up.
"What?" he rasps, the one word trying to encompass his confusion over the entire situation.
Nebula throws a quick glance at him as she tightens the last strap of his seatbelt, before going over to start strapping herself down into the chair next to him. He watches her and her movements are still rushed and— and excited, that is what it is, she is excited. "We're being rescued," she tells him.
He stares at her, his brain stalling as he tries to realign himself with this apparent new reality. Being rescued had not been part of the plan. "What?" he says again, because while he had managed to reconcile himself to dying, he isn't really prepared to suddenly make the mental space for… maybe… not dying.
He hadn't hoped for a rescue at all. Rescue is impossible. Everyone is dead and they don't even know where he is so—
"That woman said she was sent by your friends to find you," Nebula continues briskly, her eyes flicking over him before darting out to the window. "She is going to take us back to Earth."
"W…what?" he says again, his voice a choked whisper this time, his mind spinning as he tries to process Nebula's words. Everything about it seems too big to be real. It is too much for his oxygen-deprived brain.
Going… back… to Earth. He hadn't— he hadn't allowed himself to entertain that idea since they had discovered the damage to the fuel cells. He had known he wasn't going to go home. He had known he was never getting back to Earth again. He had known it was impossible, so he hadn't even dreamed about it.
He hadn't even wished for it. The idea is so far out of the realms of possibility, that he can barely comprehend it happening now.
How is he supposed to — how is he supposed to be prepared to go back to Earth now? Minutes ago, he had been dying, and now—
Now he is going back.
He finds his breath quickening at the thought, a wave of far too many emotions crashing down on his brain as the impossible becomes possible in one giant leap. He doesn't know who Carol is, or how she had found them, but one look at her makes it clear that she can do what she says she is going to do. Even now, as he sits in his chair, he can see the stars begin to blur around them as Carol begins to tow their ship.
He almost laughs. They are going home, and someone really had had to get out and push the ship.
He doesn't laugh though, because he is busy trying to catch his breath, tears filling his eyes as his body tries to cope with the overwhelming realisation that he really is going back to Earth. He really is rescued. He hadn't expected— he hadn't even hoped—
He gasps, and tears slip down his face as he sucks in another breath, feeling dizzy thanks to the lack of oxygen. He doesn't know how much longer he has in the ship, but the stars are blurring even faster now, and as he reaches up with one hand to wipe his face, he can hear Nebula muttering under her breath as she times how long it will take them to reach the first jump point.
They really, really are going home.
She was sent by your friends, Nebula had told him, and as the stars race past, he can't help turning the phrase over and over in his head. His friends had sent her here to find him. That means that some of them are still alive.
Somebody on Earth will still be alive when he gets back (and he is going back, he is, because he is being rescued.) Fresh tears spark in his eyes and his breath stutters as he realises fully that he really is going back to Earth, and that there will be some survivors there.
Who sent Carol? he wants to ask, his mind too overwhelmed to try to form the words. Who sent her? Who is still alive? Who was it?
He sucks in another breath and wipes his face again, his other hand coming up to brush against the nanite pouch on his shirt still holding the ball of Peter's ashes.
We're going home, he thinks.
oOo
He doesn't know how long it takes for Carol to bring the ship back to Earth. He imagines it probably doesn't take long, since he manages to survive the whole trip and doesn't die from CO2 poisoning along the way. He drifts off a few times though, the blur of stars fading out as his eyes traitorously force their way closed, his exhaustion making it difficult to do anything else.
Always though, he wakes up to a heavy hand on his arm, and Nebula's voice sharp and insistent in his ear as she shakes him awake. "Do not sleep here," she tells him pointedly, his blurry vision softening her glare. "Stay awake."
It isn't hard to stay awake once they get into Earth's solar system.
His breath catches as the reality of their rescue becomes even clearer, and he finds his eyes growing wet again as they pass recognisable landmarks, his fingers digging into his chair in anticipation. "That's Mars," he tells Nebula in a rough voice that does nothing to hide his emotion. "We're— we're almost there."
His pulse quickens in both hope and fear as they draw near. A part of him is overjoyed beyond words at the fact that he is going home — although it still feels unbelievable, even as it approaches — but another part of him slowly twists around in anxiety the closer they get.
Going home means having to face head on the destruction that Thanos had left behind on Earth. Before he had delt with the loss in a more abstract way. Everyone had been dead, because he had been dead. But now… now he isn't dead, and he is going to have to live with the fact that some of his friends most definitely are dead.
In front of him, the pale blue crescent of Earth rises up like a sparkling gem, the planet growing larger and larger in the window and driving home the fact that he really is going home. He watches it approach, his breath short and tight in his lungs, the CO2 levels no longer wholly responsible for his breathing difficulties.
He really is going home. He really, really is.
He stares with wide eyes as they get closer, his heart pounding with anticipation and apprehension. Almost unconsciously, he finds his thumb rubbing over his engagement ring and he swallows, his eyes fixed on the approaching planet, the individual landmasses starting to make themselves known.
His tongue presses into the roof of his mouth and he clenches his teeth, unable to keep from wondering who among his friends might be still left alive. Who had been able to survive Thanos' destruction? Had any of the Avengers made it? Is Pepper—?
His thoughts cut off as Carol begins to pull the ship down through the atmosphere. His hands tighten on his chair as the air resistance begins to jostle the ship, Nebula's foresight in strapping them down beginning to make itself clear. It is harder to breathe – what with the whole ship trying to vibrate out from under him – but even through all the shaking and jostling, he can't stop from staring out the window, watching as actual clouds race past him.
He hasn't seen clouds— he hasn't seen clouds in forever.
The clouds part a second later, and his mind is suddenly preoccupied by something much bigger and much more important than simple clouds. His breath catches, and his eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest as he stares. A headache pulses behind his eyes, his discomfort from earlier still present, but far less important now as he stares out the window, the shining lights of the Avengers compound lighting up the ground below.
On some vague level, he is aware of Nebula next to him, the woman reaching forward to release the landing gear of the ship so that Carol can actually put them down, but most of him is unresponsive, his brain sitting in shock as they land. His hands shake slightly as he tries to come to terms with the fact that he is actually home.
Nebula takes over for him, picking up where his dazed mind leaves off. In one quick movement, she presses the button to open the hatch, the door letting in fresh air for the first time in weeks.
The effects of new oxygen isn't immediate though, and his thoughts remain slow as he tries to fumble at the straps of his chair, the clasps seemingly too complex for his scattered brain. Before he knows it, Nebula is up and out of her chair, her hands batting his away as she comes over to tackle the straps, the clasps deciding to cooperate under her deft fingers.
He can't help staring at her as she works, her face stern and concentrated like usual, but still somehow managing to have a concerned air to it. "Thanks," he rasps, aware on some level that he wouldn't be here right now without her.
In front of him, Nebula glances up, her eyes flicking over him for a moment, before she sets her gaze and reaches to carefully help him out of his seat. She doesn't voice any complaint when he is forced to lean most of his weight on her, the two of them making their first few laborious steps through the command center together. His headache pulses steadily as he moves, his breath laboured and his movements uncoordinated and slow as he clings to Nebula, but he can hardly think of his bodily discomfort. His thoughts spin in disjointed excitement as she helps him towards the exit.
The trip feels agonizingly slow. His heartbeat is loud in his ears as his hands tighten on Nebula's arms and he manages to drag his head up to look towards the hatch, his eyes strainning for his first real glance of home.
They make it to the door, their steps slow and calculated as they start down the stairs. The steps are a little much for his brain right now, and the complicated nature of one foot in front of the other would have probably completely taken up his thought process… if it were not for the fact that he catches his first real breath of fresh air as he reaches the ships threshold.
A cool night breeze brushes lightly over him and his heart stutters, his head darting up as his feet stumble and a new wave of emotion crashes over him.
It is cold. The air is cold. That simple fact takes his breath away. After a month on a ship with a perfectly regulated air supply, the simple touch of a cold wind is almost overwhelming, and his mind sharpens slightly, his thoughts clearing a little as his brain grasps the fact that he has well and truly landed on his home planet.
He sucks in a ragged breath, his eyes wide as they dart around and he and Nebula continue to descend the steps. The green lawn of the Avengers' Compound spreads out on all sides. Grass, there is grass here, and wind and— and people. His vision is blurry and tired, but as he stumbles down a few more steps, his eyes manage to glance over a cluster of people waiting several feet back.
People. Of course. Some of them are still alive. His heart quickens in his chest and he has to cling to Nebula as his mind races, frantic thoughts over who could have survived crashing around in his brain.
Nebula's hand tightens slightly on his and he swallows, focusing on his feet as he makes his shaky way down the stairs. He is almost there — his feet are a few steps away from walking on grass — and someone is running up to him, their steps long and frantic as they approach. His head darts up again, and his eyes widen, his breath catching in his lungs as he stops and stares.
"Tony," Steve breathes, the man alive and in front of him, his hands reaching up to support his arm. His eyes are bright and his voice brings fresh dampness to his eyes as he stumbles down a step, his mouth half-open in shock as he darts his eyes over the man.
He shaved his beard, a small, distant part of him notes, the rest of it — Steve's survival and his presence in front of him, a little too much to handle at the moment.
He is alive. Steve had survived.
His breath stutters and he fumbles for the man, his fingers digging into his jacket as he stares at him, breathless and speechless as he tries to come to terms with his survival. Of course he had known that some of his friends had survived, Carol had made that clear, but he hadn't known what to expect— he hadn't dared try to hope for who—
In front of him, Steve looks just as overwhelmed, and he swallows, his own hands just as tight as he grasps his arm. "Tony, you're alive," he gets out roughly, his eyes bright, and Tony feels Nebula let go of him as he tries to think back to the last thing Steve would have known of him.
It would have been when he had flown up onto the alien ship with Peter. Everyone back on Earth would have known nothing else of what had happened to him. The memory of that decision, and the people he had been with — now all gone — causes new emotion to rise up in his throat, and his voice grows hoarse as he looks at Steve.
"I lost the kid," he rasps, the air suddenly tight in his lungs. "I lost him— he's gone."
Sadness shines in Steve's eyes and his hand drifts up to clasp the back of his neck. "Tony," he says, his voice equally rough. "We lost."
He swallows, Steve's words somehow managing to encompass the tragedy of everything that had happened to them. They had lost. They had lost everything. Everyone had lost. He blinks, and his hands tighten on Steve's arm as he suddenly remembers another person he doesn't want to have lost, another person he desperately wants to have survived.
"Is…" His eyes dart up to Steve's, fear pooling in his stomach as he struggles to ask about Pepper. "Is, uh…"
"Tony!"
His head snaps up at the familiar voice, and suddenly he is enveloped in the arms of the very woman he had been thinking of, Pepper's voice thin and watery as she hugs him. "Don't you ever— I told you to come back—" She gasps and clings tighter to him, complete sentences a little too complex for the situation.
"Pep," he breathes, his voice coming out as a squeak as Steve lets go of his hand and he brings it up to wrap his arms around Pepper. His eyes are wet again, and he breathes out shakily, Pepper's face pressing into his collarbone as she holds him.
She is alive. She is alive too. Somehow, she had survived.
He doesn't know how long he stays standing with his arms around Pepper. On some vague level, he is aware of Nebula still by the ship, the woman silently greeting something small and furry that — if he had been thinking more clearly — he probably would have been able to recognise. He can't really think much beyond the soft reality of Pepper in his arms though.
He doesn't want to think much beyond that. If he thinks too hard, then he will start wondering who else beyond Pepper and Steve is alive. If he thinks too much, then he will look up and try to see who else had come to greet him.
He doesn't want to do that, not yet. If he keeps his head down, and his nose buried in Pepper's hair, then he doesn't have to face the rest of reality. He doesn't want to see who is missing, who hadn't come.
He doesn't— he doesn't want to deal with that.
He can't avoid it though. For one thing, Pepper's body against his presses the pouch of nanites into his side, the hard ball of Peter's ashes sitting as a constant reminder of what he had lost, and what he still has to lose.
Even as he tries to ignore the feel of it against him, he can't help shivering from the cold night air, and Pepper pulls away at the movement. He lets her go reluctantly, before looking down to find her eyes searching his, her gaze scanning his sorry state as she takes in what a month trapped on a spaceship has done to him.
"We should get you inside," she says determinately, her hand coming up briskly to wipe at her eyes, before she offers him a small, watery smile, her other hand never once letting go of him as she turns to lead him back into the Avengers' Compound.
He can't help glancing over his other companions as he heads inside. Steve and Pepper are not the only ones who had come outside to meet him, and with the initial greetings finished, he has nothing to prevent him from looking over the rest of them, trying to calculate who had survived… and who had died.
The small furry thing which had approach Nebula is some kind of… raccoon or something, and he decides that it is probably the Guardian Rocket, which Nebula had told him about (although she had called him a fox, so he could be wrong about that.)
Either way, the two of them follow along behind the group, and the group…
He isn't really sure if his shortness of breath is from walking farther than he has in a month or… or if it is because of the smallness of the number of people around him.
Natasha is here, her hair white and short as she walks solemnly next to him, her hands in her pockets. He almost laughs at the sight of her hair, because he remembers now that she had dyed it that way not too long ago, and that she had been intending to show it to him the next time she had had the chance.
That feels like a lifetime ago.
Besides her, he can see Bruce — or, more accurately Hulk/Bruce. The man is still in the semi-transformed state that he had last seen him in (although, it seems to be… a permanent thing? He is wearing tailored clothes after all). It is a bit unexpected to see, and he can't help staring at the man, even if he is too tired to try to question it.
It is jarring, the little changes that had happened to Bruce and the rest of his friends in the short time he had been away. He can tell that Bruce is still fundamentally himself though, the man continually throwing him worried glances as they walk along the grass.
He imagines he will be getting a rather thorough check up once he gets inside.
The only other person who had come outside is Rhodey, and he can't help the wave of relief he feels at the sight of him. Rhodey is one of his oldest friends, and he hadn't been able to say anything to him at all before he had left Earth, so he is glad that he is still alive.
He can't help the twisting in his stomach at the thought of all the missing faces around him though.
Once they get inside, he gets the reassurance of a few more familiar faces — a few more people who hadn't died. He is a little too tired to notice much about the compound, but he does notice as they pass Valkyrie, the woman solemn and quiet as they walk through the hallway. Further in, his eyes glance over Clint and Thor, the two just as quiet as he is guided through the living area.
Even in his ragged, half-dead state, he can tell that they aren't much better. Clint raises his hand to greet him as he passes by, but he doesn't say anything, dark bags sitting under his eyes as he leans dejectedly against a doorframe. Thor doesn't even get up as he passes, the man's eyes barely tracking him as he sits blank-faced at a table, a hoodie replacing his usual Asgardian garb.
Their condition doesn't bode well, but Tony finds he has bigger problems as Pepper guides him down to the med-bay section of the compound. His feet begin to stumble and shuffle under him as the shock and overall exhaustion of the day begins to take its hold.
Pepper's hands tighten on him, her lips pressing together determinately as she leads him through a door and pulls him over to one of the hospital beds, Bruce following along behind her as the rest of the Avengers cluster around in a group outside his room.
It feels weird, being watched by all of them, but he finds that he is too tired to say anything about it, and it is all he can do to sit and form answers to Bruce's questions about his condition. His head feels heavy, and his headache makes his skull pound, his own voice feeling far away as he talks to the man. He blinks, and then he blinks again, the intervals between each blink seeming to get longer and harder to avoid.
Distantly, he is aware of Bruce speaking faster, and of Pepper's hand tightening on his arm… but none of those things seem to matter much anymore, because his eyes slip closed, and this time, he is too tired to try to open them again.
oOo
He wakes up to the softness of a bed and the warmth of a heavy comforter, both things startlingly different from the sparce bunk he had been sleeping on for the last month. The lights are dim as his eyes flutter open, and he stares at the darkened ceiling for a while, before he wakes up enough to become aware of something hard and plastic over his face.
He tries to lift his hand to investigate, but that one ends up having a bunch of wires on it, so he is forced to switch hands. His eyes go cross-eyed as he focused down on whatever is covering his nose and mouth.
His breath fogs on the plastic, and before he can grasp at it, a hand comes up from his side and wraps gently around his wrist. His eyes dart over, and in the dim light he manages to make out Steve sitting next to him, the man looking slightly bedraggled, even as he smiles at him.
"Bruce says you should keep the oxygen mask on," he says softly, his eyes flicking over him, as though trying to assess his condition in the dark. "He says you should be okay though."
Tony nods slowly, now able to properly recognise the oxygen mask on his face now that Steve has identified it. Steve lets go of his hand at his acceptance, and Tony flicks his eyes around the dimly lit room, noting the solitude they are in.
"Pepper?" he asks, the mask on his face making talking a little more difficult than usual.
Next to him, Steve's face softens, and he offers him a slight smile. "I sent her to bed," he says, his voice still hushed as he shifts in his seat. "It's pretty late."
Tony flicks his eyes over Steve and doesn't bother to mention the fact that if it is late for Pepper, then it is late for him too. Instead he swallows, finding his mouth parched and dry. "Water?" he asks next, his voice rasping in his throat.
Steve nods and reaches over to help him sit up, before getting up to fetch a small plastic cup of water with a straw. He is allowed to remove the mask as he drinks, and the two of them sit in silence as he slowly sips at the water, his body still feeling shaky and tired as he looks over at Steve.
He looks… worn.
He can't think of a better word for it. He looks smaller than before, his face tired and his shoulders slumped as he sits next to him, a soft expression still on his face. He notices him watching him, and his mouth twitches up just slightly at him.
"It's good to see you, Tony," he says quietly, and he nods.
"You too," he rasps, his hand tightening slightly on his cup as he looks at him, a thread of unease starting to twist around in his gut as he thinks over what must have happened on Earth. He doesn't really know much. Thanos must have come, and he must have taken the Mind Stone, but he doesn't know how that had happened…
And he still doesn't know who all had died.
He can probably guess, given who he hasn't seen yet, but he doesn't want to do that. He still wants to hope — he still wants to hold onto the chance that he is wrong.
He has to know though, and he can't stop himself as he glances up to meet Steve's eyes. The man stares back at him, and he can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows what he is going to ask, and he can tell that the answer will not be easy for either of them.
He swallows and breathes in, his eyes dropping to his cup for a moment, only a few centimeters of water left for him to stall with. His lips press together, and he drinks the last of it, the water hitting cold and hollow in his stomach as he breathes in and looks back up at Steve.
"What… happened?" he asks quietly.
AN: So Tony finally gets rescued from space… although he is a little out of it for most of it. It would be really overwhelming I think to go through that.
And we finally get to see the other Avengers again. Things are rough right now, but I definitely wanted the reunion between Tony and Steve to go better, since they are friends in this universe.