This idea bit me and wouldn't leave me alone.
Enjoy.
Tony's eyes fly open, and he sucks in a short, shuddering breath. The sky above is a deep and bright blue, with a handful of wispy clouds dotting it. He can feel the warmth of the sun on his skin contrasting with the cool dampness of the ground that he can feel through his clothes. His head tips to the right sluggishly, and he finds that he's apparently lying on damp sand. Panic blooms in his chest when he tries to curl his fingers through the sand unsuccessfully.
Where the hell am I? Where's everyone else? he thinks, eyes darting around his surroundings and cataloguing everything he can see. Why can't I move my arm? And where's my suit?
Suddenly pain jolts through his body, and an overwhelming fatigue settles into his bones. The pain feels like it's squeezing the air from his lungs, and the fatigue makes even keeping his eyes open an insurmountable task.
Eventually the pain tapers off slightly and Tony lets out a heavy, shuddering sigh of relief. He allows himself a moment to catch his breath before opening his eyes again and looking back down at his right hand. He finds a blackened mess of charring and bruising up along his entire right side, and his brow furrows as he tries to remember how the hell his arm had gotten so damn gnarly looking. It looks as though it had been exposed to some sort of corrosive chemical compound, or had been hit with some unknown substance.
Or gone a few rounds with a purple alien asshole he thinks bitterly, the memories of Thanos beginning to come back to him in fragments.
He feels another shock of pain radiate on his right side and he lets out a gasp.
"Stark."
Tony's head swings back over to his left and he blinks rapidly, not believing what his eyes are seeing. "Yinsen?" he croaks, watching the man who had once saved his life walk toward him.
The man nods and offers a smile. "It's good to see you."
"You too," Tony replies in disbelief, gritting his teeth immediately as another round of pain shudders through him.
"You didn't waste it, I see."
Tony manages a half grin, the wheels in his mind still turning to try and make sense of everything. "Yeah well, there were some bumps in the road for sure, but I always aimed to do something good with it."
"How's your arm?" Yinsen asks, nodding toward his bruised, blackened, and lifeless right side.
Tony looks to his right again and finds the nasty black charring has actually begun to recede a bit. "Uh...better I think," he answers with a frown of confusion. "Don't really understand how though. Those stones really did a number on the Big Guy, and I've got a fraction the strength he does..."
"This is a place of healing," Yinsen explains as he takes a seat next to Tony.
"And just where is this place of healing? Because I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."
"This is not just any beach, Stark. It is somewhere special to you."
Tony looks around again, realizing he does know where he is. It's his and Pepper's property...but before they'd built the house.
"Some people wake in a hospital, some in their homes, some in a place that was near and dear to their hearts, and others still in a place they had found comfort in. Your mind constructs it for your soul to heal."
Tony swallows the lump in his throat. "So I'm dead?"
Yinsen nods. "I'm afraid so. Your actions, while noble and heroic, were unfortunately also fatal. From what I've been told, the Infinity Stones carry a power sparingly few can withstand wielding."
He blows out a heavy sigh. As soon as those stones had transferred to his suit he began to feel them draining away his very life force, and he knew what he aimed to do was going to cost him dearly. He'd watched Bruce struggle earlier to contain and manage the power and the pain that came with wielding the stones, and he knew that his own fragile human body was no match for their raw power. A quick snap of his fingers and he'd felt their power swell through him at the same time as his own began to drain away.
And yet, he realizes that he's already begun to feel better. The fatigue is starting to give way to some actual energy in his limbs. But he knows that kind of healing doesn't happen on earth, or alien planets, and definitely not while adrift in space. And so he thinks that maybe a part of him had known he was dead from the moment his eyes opened to a blue sky above.
Tony lets out a groan of pain as he uses his good arm to push himself upright, testing the limits of what the limited speed healing had already done for him.
His mind shifts to memories of gentle hands on his face, and whispered reassuring words. He can feel Pepper's lips on his cheek, and hear the strength beneath the trembling of her final words to him.
Tony feels panic rise in his chest again. Pep and Morgan! They're alone. He'd promised he was out of the game, and that he had no intention of getting back in. And then it had all gone to shit, and he was stuck battling aliens again, and making the sacrifice play. Again. He feels bitterness coat his mind. Why did it always have to be him? They were alone because it just had to-
No, he thinks, cutting his own thoughts off. They've got Rhodey and Happy, and a whole goddamn bullpen of folks who would move heaven and earth for them. They'll be okay. Pep had said that. She'd said they would be okay...and Pep was always right.
The panic fades away, but the niggling worry and the guilt remain an ache in his gut. He realizes he's been quiet for a long time, and that Yinsen is politely looking elsewhere.
"So this is the afterlife? I gotta be honest, I expected it to be a little more crowded," Tony says. "Not that I don't appreciate you being here," he adds quickly, meeting Yinsen's gaze.
"Think of this more as a stop before going to your afterlife."
Tony frowns. "A stop?"
"Souls cannot pass into the realm without first healing."
"Right. And how long does that take?"
Yinsen shrugs. "As long as it takes. For some it is quick, and for others it takes time."
Tony stays silent, letting the explanation hang in the air.
"I know it's a lot to digest," Yinsen sympathizes. "But you have already made significant progress. Your arm is nearly back to normal."
Tony looks down and finds the charring is almost gone completely, and feeling is beginning to return to his fingers. "I thought you said it was my soul that had to heal. This is healing my body."
"This is something of a physical manifestation of your soul," Yinsen explains. "No one really knows what dictates how long the healing process takes, but when you are ready, we'll go to the true afterlife."
Tony pauses and considers these facts. "Are you real? Or are you just a construct of my mind?"
Yinsen laughs lightly. "I never took you for a philosopher."
Tony just shakes his head and scoffs, even as a smile spreads. "Yeah, well I never believed in magic, and I just held magic stones in my hand and snapped people out of existence...so maybe I'm reassessing some definitions of what's real and not real."
"Maybe your mind has just constructed all of this, or maybe this is really the afterlife. I have no way of knowing. But either way - what harm is there in letting things proceed on their course?"
"None, I guess. But you've been dead for a long time...why are you here?"
"Everyone gets a guide to help them navigate the healing process, and to lead them into the beyond."
"And you're my guide?"
Yinsen nods. "Your soul selects someone from your life that is already here, that is to say - has already died - to be your guide. It is someone important to you, like a friend, sibling, parent, or partner."
Tony's eyebrow arches. Of all the people I've lost...Yinsen is who my soul picks? Not mom? Or dad? Or hell, even Aunt Peggy?
"Don't take offence to this," Tony says, holding up his hand in a preemptive apology, "but there's a few other people I thought might've been more, uh, fitting to guide me."
"It is not always a straightforward choice, but the soul selects what it needs. Do not worry, Stark-"
"Tony," he interrupts. "Call me Tony."
Yinsen smiles. "Do not worry, Tony. You will see your loved ones soon enough."
And he did. His soul finished its healing process shortly after, and Yinsen led him to the beyond. Tony was surprised to find that the 'beyond' looked a hell of a lot like earth, but without all the scars of man-made disasters and damage to the environment.
He spent a lot of time with his parents, apologizing for countless moments, saying the things he'd never thought to say while they had been alive, and talking through the years they had missed out being there for.
Yinsen introduces him to his family, and Tony finds himself smiling at the pure joy in his friend's eyes.
He visits with Aunt Peggy, and Tony finds himself happy to listen for once, enjoying the stories of his father's discoveries and wild parties, about Steve when he was just a tiny asthmatic kid from Brooklyn, her own missions and close calls, and how SHIELD got started up.
"But enough about me, Anthony," Peggy says after a few hours, a teasing lilt in her voice as she uses his full name. "What about you? Tell me about your family."
Tony's smile is genuine, but bittersweet. He tells her about how he and Pepper fell in love and the rocky road they'd been on since that first moment she'd become his assistant. He tells her about his little girl, and how she's the best goddamned thing he'd ever done with his life.
"And your team?" she prompts, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"You just want to hear about Steve," he retorts, pointing an accusing finger at her.
She laughs. "Guilty," she admits. "But I want to hear about the rest of them too!"
"Well, you know Steve already. I doubt he's changed too much. Spangley's always been firm about his morals and his principles."
"Tony," she tuts.
He holds up his hands. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. He and I didn't exactly see eye to eye on a lot, but we were there for each other when push came to shove. He was a helluva guy, I'll give you that."
Peggy nods, but stays silent.
He tells her about Bruce and their mutual love of science and unfortunate penchant for stumbling onto accidental discoveries. About Thor, and how he could never resist trying to one-up himself with pop culture references that flew over the demigod's head. About Clint, the wiseass archer with a fondness for high places, that he loved to tease with Robin Hood and Hunger Games references.
And then he thinks of Natasha, and his stomach drops.
Peggy frowns, noticing his expression. "What's wrong?"
"I can't believe I- She's been here all this time and I didn't even..."
"Tony, who's been here?"
"Natasha," he whispers.
How could I have forgotten?
He jumps up, mumbles an apology and a promise to come back soon to Peggy and sprints off.
He finds her, unsurprisingly, at the Avengers Compound. She's sitting with her back to him on the dock, gazing out over the lake, watching the sun set and paint the sky with rich reds, oranges, and golds.
"Nat," he breathes out at the sight of her, feeling emotion and guilt form a lump in his throat.
He had never been an overly emotional person, but there was just something about the afterlife that made all those carefully constructed emotional dams he'd spent his whole life building break wide open.
His steps toward her are slow and unsteady as he prepares himself. He has absolutely no excuse for forgetting her. She'd sacrificed herself to give them a chance to fix the damage Thanos had done with the snap of his fingers. She'd thrown herself off a goddamned cliff so Clint could get the stone, and he had forgotten that she would be in the afterlife with him. He'd been so wrapped up in seeing his parents, and Aunt Peggy, and meeting Yinsen's family, that he hadn't stopped to think that she would be here.
He knew so little of her past, and had always assumed that she didn't really have a family...but realizing that she was truly alone here at the compound made him sick to his stomach. In those years after the snap...she'd held what was left of the Avengers together. They had been her family, and yet she was left all alone because her actions had saved everyone.
"Nat," he calls out softly once he's closer.
"Hey," she replies as she turns and looks up at him, meeting his gaze. "I was wondering when you'd show up, shell-head."
He smiles at her teasing tone. "Oh, you know me, Red. Had to find the best place for some cheeseburgers," he drawls.
A light laugh bubbles up from her. "Yeah? Where's mine?"
"Didn't peg you for a fan."
"Who doesn't like a greasy, American cheeseburger?"
"Well, a Russian obviously," he deadpans.
She lets out another laugh, and he smiles because he can't remember the last time he had seen her laughing. He remembers her keen ability to zing one liners at the perfect moment, her ongoing banter with Clint, and her constant teasing of Cap about his old age. But even with all of that, she hadn't laughed all that often. Tony wonders idly if that had been a conscious decision, or if it was just a byproduct of her childhood. Or rather, the lack thereof, he thinks sadly. She'd grown up in hell, but had clawed her way out and built herself back up after they'd spent years breaking her down. He didn't know much about it, but he knew enough to be certain that she got to claim the crown for most tragic backstory out of their little ragtag group.
"I suppose that's fair," she replies, pulling him out of his thoughts. "But for the record, I wouldn't turn down one in the future."
"Duly noted," he says with a solemn nod. If she wanted a cheeseburger, he figured it was the least he could do, considering she'd given up everything for them.
"Care to join me?" she asks, patting the spot next to her.
He nods and drops down to sit beside her. Her gaze has shifted back to the setting sun, but he keeps his eyes on her. She looks younger than the last time he saw her, the worry lines on her face having faded and her eyes shining a bit brighter. Her hair is a touch shorter, he thinks, and the blonde tips have disappeared leaving just the vibrant red he remembers from when he first met her. Her posture is relaxed, and she looks peaceful in a way that he's never seen before.
"I'm sorry, Nat."
She turns to him with a slight frown, the unspoken question in her eyes.
He tries to swallow the lump in his throat and then exhales shakily when it doesn't disappear.
"Tony," she says softly, understanding blooming in her gaze. Because of course she understood. "There's nothing to be sorry for."
"But I-"
"But nothing," she says with a shake of her head.
"Nat," he says sadly, feeling himself begin to choke up. "You gave up everything."
"So did you," she replies swiftly, an apology bleeding into her tone. "It wasn't fair that the world needed you to be a hero for them again."
"It wouldn't have meant a damn thing if you hadn't done what you did."
"And that's why I did it," she counters. "I spent five years trying to get to a point where I could do something to fix what we hadn't been able to prevent in the first place."
"You deserved to be there to see it."
"And you deserved to live out your life with Pepper and Morgan."
He considers her words and realizes he can't refute them. He's not bitter about it, not anymore. He would have loved to be there with them, but he had sworn to protect them...and he had done just that. Just as she had chosen to save her family.
"Guess we both drew the short straw," he quips, his tone still subdued.
She smiles sadly. "Maybe. But I wouldn't change things."
He isn't surprised by her words. She had always been a touch ruthless when it came to completing missions.
"I'm sorry I didn't come see you sooner." The words feel like knives on his soul as he forces them out.
"It's okay, Tony. You had family and friends up here waiting for you, and you deserve to spend time with them."
Her words prompt another lump to rise in his throat. Left all alone and forgotten after making the ultimate sacrifice, and she was reassuring him.
"You're my family too, Nat," he replies softly, hoping she understands that he really and truly means it.
She gives him a watery smile and reaches over to hold his hand in hers. "You're very sweet when you're not being an asshole."
The chuckle sneaks out before he can even try to contain it. "And you're sweet when you're not spitting phrases in Latin at me."
She laughs lightly at his callback to their early time together. She was utterly terrifying then. It had been mindblowing to him that she could slide so seamlessly into a role, and make everyone believe what she wanted.
They fall into silence, and Tony is acutely aware that she hasn't let go of his hand. It's not something he thinks she would have ever done when they were alive, but they were different people then. They'd changed. Dying does that to you, apparently, he thinks drily.
"We had a funeral for you," he says, suddenly remembering being next to the lake, trying to make sense of what happened and find the strength to go on when the rug had been ruthlessly pulled out from under all of them.
"Sorry I missed it," she quips, trying for some levity but failing miserably. Her expression is unreadable, but he doesn't miss the emotion in her eyes.
"Bruce threw a bench."
Her eyebrow arches.
"Thor argued with Clint and yelled at me."
"Didn't know he cared that much."
Tony's gaze narrows. Deflection, he diagnoses. "We both know that's a lie."
She doesn't respond, and he knows his words hit their mark.
"Steve cried some manly tears."
"Steve cried when you made him watch the Notebook."
"Nat," he says softly, not accepting this deflection either.
"What about you?" she asks after a moment as she turns to meet his gaze.
There's not a hint of resentment in her expression, but he finds he can't look at her. The guilt churns in his gut as he remembers sitting at this very dock not so long ago, asking if she had any family. Asking as if it wasn't something he should already know. He'd fought alongside her for years, and she'd saved his life god more times than he could count…but he apparently didn't care enough to find out something so basic about her.
"Tony..." she prompts, her voice so quiet he almost misses it.
"I'm sorry, Nat."
She smiles gently. "You said that already."
He shakes his head. "Nat, I-"
She squeezes his hand to stop him. "It's alright. It's behind us now," she says. Her voice is gentle and reassuring, but he still feels the twinges of his guilty conscience.
It's quiet for a few moments then, and he's left to ponder the forgiveness she had offered without knowing his guilt and regret.
"How are they?" her voice is quiet, and almost unsure. It takes him by surprise, having been used to the cool and confident tone she always seemed to slip into.
"They miss you, Nat," he says gently. He knows this is treading into difficult territory for her, and is mindful that while he has had the balm of his family greeting him in his afterlife to take away the sting of dying, she hasn't had the same. She'd been thrust into it all alone after making an impossible decision. "I don't think any of us really realized just how important a part of our lives you were until we got back on that damn pad and Clint fell to his knees in grief," he admits honestly.
He feels her hand slip out of his and watches as her head tips forward, hair shielding her face from him but doing nothing to mask the quiet sounds of grief escaping her.
"You deserved better, Nat. You're a hero," he says gently. "And I know you aren't necessarily okay with that word being used to describe you," he adds, noticing her shift in discomfort, "but it's the God's honest truth."
"You don't know what I did before I met Clint." It comes out in a pained whisper. He may not know the specifics but he understands what she means, knows it in his bones, because all those weapons he'd made and profited from hadn't been dropping peace and love on the world.
"I know it doesn't matter, because you sacrificed yourself for trillions on that goddamned planet."
She doesn't respond, and he isn't convinced his words have sunk in.
"You said the world needed me to be a hero. Well I've got news for you, 007, my lavish lifestyle wasn't possible because I won the lottery. I manufactured the weapons that killed people across the world for years. And I chose to stop making them, the same way you decided to start helping people. If I'm a hero, and I totally am by the way -you said so yourself- then you're a hero too."
Quiet sobs shake her small frame and he wraps an arm around her, pulling her gently into him. She surprises him again by curling into the contact.
"I'm sorry you had to be here too, Tony," she says softly after a few moments.
"Yeah, me too. But like you said, wouldn't change things. We won. We beat the bastard. And now everyone else gets to live their lives."
"And what about us?"
He squeezes her shoulder. "We get to rest in peace, I guess."
"Sounds nice."
"Sounds boring," he corrects with a cheeky grin. "Tomorrow you and I are going to find some hobbies or something, because I am going to go insane if I have nothing to tinker with."
She lets out a chuckle as she wipes away the remnants of her tears.
"It's beautiful," he says, nodding toward the sun which has almost disappeared entirely beneath the horizon.
"Yeah," she says softly, so softly he almost misses it.
"You came here often, right?" he asks, vaguely remembering Steve mentioning it once.
"On Earth?" she clarifies. He nods. "Often enough, I suppose."
"And what about now?"
A hint of a smile spreads. "Every night. It reminds me of home."
Tony smiles at that, a feeling of hope spreading through him. They'd be okay.
Thoughts? Comments?
Love to hear 'em if you wanna share.