Tony watched through the window as Alan—cleared to move by Helen Cho—climbed up onto the bed his brother was sleeping in. Pepper settled next to him, and he absently wrapped an arm around her waist. Peter would probably be dropping by in the next two hours; he'd been coming by after school every day to check on the two.
"They don't much look like brothers, do they," Pepper murmured, staring through the window.
Alan looked tiny as he pressed up against his big brother. They did look very different, Pepper was right. In coloring and stature. But they both looked haggard and worn, and Tony had already done the DNA tests that proved that they were brothers. And that they didn't seem to exist in this world, at least not on any digital database.
"They just want to get home," Tony said. And he could sympathize with that. He watched as Alan fiddled with the watch they had been told not to remove, frowning down at it. Nodding to himself, the boy then lay down, pressing his forehead to Virgil's shoulder, being careful of all the wires and tubes attached to his brother.
"What are we going to do with them?" Pepper asked.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Help them get there," he replied, as though that was the obvious answer.
Inside the room, Alan let the steady beating of the heart monitor sooth his agitation. Virgil was still there, still breathing and living despite all the worlds trying to conspire against them.
His thigh had practically been torn to shreds by the raptor. But Cho wasn't known as the best doctor in her field for nothing, and the injuries were well on their way to healing, even after only two days, thanks to cradle technology. The cast on Virgil's arm had been removed and replaced. It was made of the same honey-comb plastic that they used in their own world, and for some reason that made Alan feel incredibly homesick.
He traced his fingers over that cast, glancing up at Virgil's face, lax with sleep and medication. The cut at his hairline had been neatly stitched. They were both clean and medicated and safe. HEMERA hadn't been touched, despite Stark saying that he'd been itching to look at her. And they were in a world that had tech that was similar to their own, with Artificial Intelligences and all.
"Ms. FRIDAY," Alan spoke up softly, blinking against the exhaustion that came from recovering from a bad illness. He wondered if she was all throughout the building, and not just in the room he'd woken up in. It would make sense for her to be everywhere Mr. Stark needed to be, right?
"Yes, Mr. Tracy?" the Irish voice said, and Alan gave a half-smile. "How can I help you?"
"Call me Alan, please," he said, ducking his head a bit, pressing closer to his brother. "Can you tell me about this world?"
"I am not sure what you mean," FRIDAY said honestly.
"Just recent current events, I guess," Alan mumbled. FRIDAY gave a short pause and then started talking. She started with the current date, September of 2016, and continued to talk. He listened carefully, despite wanting to just fade out. He needed to know at least a little.
It was the talk of aliens and superheroes that caused him to frown. Aliens he was sadly familiar with, to some degree. But superheroes…that was new. And Stark was one of them, having built a metal suit that could fly and shoot and…and…
Impressive.
Alan tuned out after that, letting the soft Irish lilt wash over him. At some point he woke from his doze enough to register two other voices in the room, one the female doctor that had looked him over before and the other Stark's. They were talking quietly, and someone was tucking a soft, fuzzy blanket around him.
"You let him crawl into bed with his brother?" the doctor asked, sounding a little frustrated. "Tony that goes against all hospital policy."
"He's a scared kid who just wanted to make sure his brother was still alive," Tony answered, just as frustrated. Callused fingers ran through Alan's hair, soothing him back into a deeper sleep. "He was careful. They're both fine."
The words faded out, and the next time he woke, he was met by a kid about his age grinning at him. "Hi! Hello," the kid said, bouncing on his toes a little and giving a bit of a wave. The kid was shorter than Alan, if he could guess, with curly brown hair and big brown doe eyes. Alan gave a little finger wave of his own, blinking, a bit disoriented. "You want to get up and find some food?" the kid asked. "Doctor Cho says you're allowed out, and Mr. Stark says you can wander with supervision."
"Who are you?" Alan rasped, wincing a little at how rude that was. Scott would have had his head for that. Or…well, actually Scott probably wouldn't have cared in this case.
"Oh! Sorry," the kid said, his face flushing a bit. He was talking quietly, probably in deference to Virgil, still sleeping the sleep of the drugged. "I'm Peter. I'm Mr. Stark's intern. I was kinda there when you two…dropped in."
Alan winced again. They'd pulled the raptor with them. "Sorry," he whispered.
Peter waved it away. "No problem. You want to get up?"
Alan slid off the bed, carefully avoiding the tubes and wires connected to his brother, and wrapped the fuzzy blanket around his shoulders. It was decorated with odd symbols. A star in the middle of a bunch of circles. A big hammer. A weird looking robot mask. Things like that.
It looked like it belonged in a comic book shop.
"I'm Alan," Alan said, remembering his manners after wavering for a moment on his feet. He was still feeling exhausted and achy and so very worn out. He wondered, absently, just how bad his fever had gotten, for him to still be feeling the affects despite having been declared 'recovered'.
Peter grinned at him. "Nice to meet you!"
Alan looked back at Virgil, reluctant to leave. But his brother was resting easy, and his vitals were all good. Better than they had been before Alan had fallen asleep, honestly. So, Virgil was clearly on the mend. "Um…" his stomach grumbled and he looked down at his bare feet.
"Food," Peter nodded decisively. "You need food. And clothes."
Alan glanced at him, frowning. "I need to grab HEMERA," he muttered.
"Right your robot armor thing," Peter said, blinking. He turned and raced out of the room and came back not even a minute later, holding the scaled metal arm guard. "Here you go. Mr. Stark had them put it in the safe outside the room. No one's touched her." Alan took HEMERA carefully, still frowning, and slid her into place on his arm. None of the lights were glowing yet, and it was incredibly worrisome. Alan didn't think he could fix any of the mechanical bits since he hadn't been all that involved with building that part.
"Thank you," Alan whispered.
Peter regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, head tilted to one side. He looked like a puppy, Alan thought absently, suddenly reminded of his own brothers saying the same about him time and again. Great, now Alan was feeling old. "You sure you're up to moving around a bit? You were really sick for a bit."
"I'm fine," Alan said, nodding. "Just need some clothes." He chewed on his lip. "Um…did our stuff…?" The whole thing with the raptors had been so hectic and terrifying that Alan couldn't quite remember if they'd had their bags on them or not when he'd flipped the switch on HEMERA.
"Right!" Peter said, grabbing Alan's arm and almost dragging him from the room. Alan glanced back at Virgil one last time before following the other kid down the hall. "We cleaned your stuff. It was kinda wet and gross. And Mr. Stark had a guest room set up for you and your brother," he said. "Follow me."
Alan followed, a little wide-eyed. The building layout was so intensely familiar, from the names on the doorplates, to the tile in the hall. The windows showing the outside just brought more familiarity and he was a little shaky by the time they made it to the elevator. Peter frowned at him but ushered him inside the elevator.
The buttons were color coded in a very similar way that the buttons to Tracy Industries were color coded. Peter didn't bother pushing any of them, though, instead asking FRIDAY to take them to the penthouse. Alan desperately hoped that the penthouse was different than the one he was used to back home, otherwise he was bound to have a meltdown.
Peter was staring at him again, looking rather concerned. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, eyes narrowing and gaining a calculating look to them. "You kind of look like you've seen a ghost."
"Have you ever been somewhere for the very first time, but it's incredibly familiar?" Alan asked, squinting at the colored rows of buttons.
"Like, as in this building?" Peter asked slowly.
"Is green for R&D?" Alan asked back, pointing at the buttons. He hadn't been told anything about what went on this building but figured there was no harm in asking. And Stark had said that the tower belonged to him, and that he was a tech guy, so having an R&D department made at least a little sense. At Peter's slightly startled nod, Alan rocked back on his heels with a sigh, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "How much do you know about our situation?"
"Multi-verse theory, right?" Peter asked, glancing his way.
Alan nodded, feeling a little relieved that he wouldn't have to explain. "In my world, this building is my family's company headquarters." The elevator dinged and opened and the two stepped out into a space so unfamiliar that Alan was almost weak with relief.
Back home, the top floor of Tracy Industries had been converted into three different apartments, with the largest one being called the 'penthouse' and reserved for their family's use. It was a homey space, reminding them more of the ranch house they'd all grown up in (except for Alan) more than anywhere that a bunch of multi-billionaires would live, with only three bedrooms. While expensively furnished and meticulously maintained, it hadn't been fancy.
This penthouse was the home of a billionaire, and it showed. It was filled with open, modern spaces, glass staircases leading up to other floors that didn't even exist in TI, and massive windows showing off the familiar city outside. All the furnishings were expensive, and they looked it, and the decoration was just as high-quality.
Peter was watching his face carefully. "This place is different, then?"
"Yeah," Alan breathed, stepping forward to take a better look around. "Definitely different." The relief was clear.
"Different from what?" Tony Stark asked as he rounded a corner, grease smeared across one cheek.
Alan and Peter exchanged looks and Peter gave a smile. "Let me show him to his guest room so he can change, and I'll explain, Mr. Stark," he said, leading Alan down a hall.
He pointed out the different bedrooms, Mr. Stark and Ms. Pepper's, Mr. Rhodey's, and then Peter's own room (and wasn't he just an intern? Why did he have a room in the penthouse?) and then the two guest rooms. HEMERA had apparently informed them that the brothers were more likely to share, though, so only one room had been prepared for them. Peter left him there, pointing out the closet and bathroom and going back out to talk to Stark.
Alan sat on the edge of the massive king-sized bed. The room wasn't that dissimilar to the room they'd stayed in while at the SGC, only with one bed instead of two. It was expensive, yes, but nothing overtly fancy. There was the bed, the closet and bathroom doors, a small table and two armchairs. Alan heaved a sigh, his breath catching as his ribs reminded him of the battering they'd recently had and looked down at his bare toes.
There was nothing he could do right now except wait for Virgil to wake up and then fix HEMERA.
Who knew how long that was going to take.
He sighed again, pushing himself to his feet and letting the blanket fall to a puddle on the bed. Padding silently to the closet, he took a look and felt more relief. Their duffle bags, cleaned of mud and filth, both lay on the ground. They were open, and all their items, nicely washed and folded, had been packed back into them. Including the MREs and first aid kits and what little camping supplies they'd brought along. Their uniform boots sat next to the bags, and Alan plopped himself down on the ground next to them, his fingers trailing over the gouges raking through Virgil's boot, left from the teeth of the raptor that had managed to grab him.
Their suits were missing, but Alan suspected that they'd had to be cut off of them in medical. International Rescue suits were space-worthy, and they weren't easy to get on and off, especially not if you weren't the one wearing them. He's miss them, but honestly, losing the suit was much better than losing their lives.
Alan's baldric had been packed away in his duffle, though, so he still had that. And as he rifled through his bag, he was pleased to see that the majority of their clothes had been saved as well. He had no real attachment to the things he'd bought in that first world, but the familiarity was nice, as was the knowledge that he wouldn't have to do more shopping. His fingers brushed something metal and he frowned, grabbing the small box that hadn't been there before.
Opening it, he found it full of embroidered patches. The International Rescue patches from the first alternate world they'd fallen into. The SGC patches. The In-Gen Security and Jurassic Park patches. And their own patches, the ones from their uniforms, that had been carefully removed and stored in the box as well. Alan fingered his own, fingers stroking over the stylized silhouette of his 'Bird.
There were also two unfamiliar patches, an "A" with an arrow, contained within a circle, and another one that looked like a hawk or an eagle. A sticky note attached to one of them said, "Saw you were collecting patches. Thought you might like more. Stark."
Alan took another breath, giving a wry twist of his lips as he tucked the box back into his bag. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and clambered to his feet. He felt as graceful as John right after coming down from Five, and his head swam just a little.
Quickly getting dressed, or as quick as he could with the massive bruising that covered his chest and back (and ouch, he hadn't gotten a look at that before, but geez), he slipped on a pair of socks and made his way to the bathroom to use the facilities. He wondered, briefly, how he and Virgil had managed to even run from the raptors when they'd been so bruised from the Rex encounter.
Adrenaline could make a heck of a painkiller, he supposed.
Finally ready, Alan steeled himself and turned back to the door. Despite being tired and worried and just done, he figured it was time to go and speak with his host.