Chapter Text
Tony wakes to the feeling of his body moving without him, in two places at once, and no place at all.
“FRIDAY, override. No, god damn it. Let me see the files.”
He looks beyond the harsh light shining in his face, sees the stars.
He knew the stars would be there. For some reason he knows it should be comforting, that the stars are there, always there, even when he can’t see them. But it’s not.
“I need to know now! Override.”
Someone blocks the spotlight and his stars.
Pepper is haloed in rose gold. Her cool fingers prod his face. They tremble, pressing down into his cheek bone.
“Tony, open your eyes.” Pepper’s voice is firm, commanding. “Stay awake.”
Tony snaps his eyes open at Pepper’s command, but only for her. Every muscle in Tony’s body aches, every bone draws him downwards, even his heartbeat burns.
Pepper leans over him, blocking the light with her body. Her whole face is in shadow, but she’s so close, Tony can see her sharp eyes. He takes in his beautiful wife for a moment. She’s in the Rescue suit, and it gleams, practically glows.
The corners of Pepper’s mouth quiver and she pushes them together hard. She pushes her fingers harder into Tony’s cheek as his eyes drift shut.
“Tony. Where is Peter?”
Tony goes rigid. Pepper pushes harder.
“Tony. Answer me. Where. Is. Peter?” She demands.
Tony licks his lips.
“-was waiting.” He croaks out. “He knew.”
Tony curls in on himself, grabbing his wrist. He looks at his armour, sooty and scuffed, the dark crater, the crumbled portal.
Peter.
His name rips through Tony and escapes in a wordless sob. Peter, written in grief.
“Tony.” Pepper grabs him, and forcibly rolls him towards her. “James is on his way. Where would they take him?”
Tony looks at her through dazed eyes.
Peter’s gone. His mind tells Pepper. Gone.
Pepper swears.
“Think Tony! Where would Fury take him?”
Tony falters.
“Tell FRIDAY to unlock the incident file.” Pepper commands.
“No!” Tony’s shout comes out as a hoarse whisper. He licks his lips. “No.”
Pepper moves to stand and Tony grabs her metal hand in his own. Tony tugs and Pepper folds down in front of him on one knee, silent although Tony can feel the tension radiating off her, vibrating through the suit.
“Pep.” His mouth is so dry, each word is like broken glass. “Pep, he’s not here.”
“We’ll get him back.” She says immediately. “I can do it.”
“No. No. He’s not here anymore.” Tony emphasises each word, hoping she understands, hoping she won’t make him explain.
“No.” Pepper says in disbelief. “No, we sent him home. He was safe. He was- we were going to-“
“Beck knew.” Tony says. “He redirected the rift.”
It was a trap. He adds silently, thinking of the chain fading, the blast of a horn, Peter, standing on the railway tracks, eyes wide-
“Make another one.” Pepper interrupts his spiral.
“What?”
“Make another one. Build it again. Cut a slice through every universe until you find him.” Pepper insists.
The train rushes past, empty space where Peter’s body had been.
“It’s over Pepper.” Tony says. “It’s over.”
“Anthony Edward Stark.” Pepper says. “It’s over when I say it’s over. And it is not over.”
It’s not over. Tony tries to tell himself. It is not over.
Wearing Pepper’s suit feels bulky as he blasts through the night sky. The handling is slower, less finesse and firepower than his own, but her armour is more mission appropriate. He’d named it Rescue armour for a reason. FRIDAY talks him through breathing exercises for the entire duration of the fifteen minute flight, the powerful hum of the repulsors serving as a droning backdrop to his fluctuating breathe, his chugging heart.
Iron Man drops to the concrete before the Sanctum, body buzzing.
Tony retracts his faceplate but leaves the suit on, unsure if he’s capable of walking or evening standing without it. He clunks up the stairs, pushes through the front door. The suit folds down around him, deactivating some kind of pressure from the magics in the brownstone, and Tony stumbles.
The Sanctum is quiet, but the air inside it rolls and riots, like the aftermath of a hurricane. Something has just gone down here, Tony can sense it in the way the dust refuses to settle.
“Hello?” Tony calls, his voice weak and wavering. He calls out again, to no response.
He turns on the spot, looking at the rooms and hallways leading from the entrance.
“I detect voices from the west wing.” FRIDAY says from his phone.
He follows the hallway to the right, and within a second he hears them too. It’s a loud argument, Tony recognises both Wong and Strange’s voices.
“You felt his energy.”
“Of course I did! But it’s been almost a decade Stephen!”
Tony throws open an ornate gilded door, certain the wizards are behind it. The room, that looks more like a chapel, is empty.
“-can’t just use the stone like that.”
“I have before-”
The words twisting and floating around the hall, as though the argument was happening on a moving field, in different rooms through different walls. Tony chases the voices.
“Reckless-upset the balance-”
Tony wants to scream. He doesn’t have time for this.
“-the balance is already upset by his death!”
Tony throws the next door open, a solid metal one. Wong and Strange spin to face him, fists raised in readiness. Their faces are soaked in sweat, their robes heavy. Strange has a shiny burn mark across his face, his right sleeve heavy singed.
“What happened to you?” Tony blurts out.
“A present from my colleague across the void.” Strange rolls his eyes and drops his arms, Wong following. “I sent him a message regarding your boy.”
“You sent him a ransom-” Wong interrupts.
“It was a message.“ Strange mutters underneath his rebuke.
“We have Peter Parker.” Wong intones deeply. “How did you expect him to react?”
“Peter.” Tony interrupts. “I need to get to that dimension Strange.”
“It’s closed. Quite thoroughly.” Strange says, sounding satisfied. “In fact only moments ago-“
“Then tear out a new one.” Tony says.
Strange and Wong glance at one another. Wong steps out towards Tony, raising a placating arm. It trembles.
“Tony.” Wong says. “We have just repaired the energies between our universes. We believe permanently. There will be no more rifts.”
“No.” Tony refuses them, even though he can see their exhaustion, can feel the remnants of power still rolling through the building. “No. Send me through.”
Tony feels an emptiness beginning in his mind as it disconnects from his body.
Strange simply raises an eyebrow.
“Send me to Peter now!” Tony screams.
Both wizards advance on him then, backing him into the corner.
“FRIDAY. Playback.” Tony throws his phone on the floor as the blue holoscreen pops up and he sees Peter scrabbling on the tracks. Tony’s back collides with the wall. He sinks down it. A train whistle blasts. Tony presses his hands against his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. He presses his forehead into the floor. He doesn’t need to see it again. He doesn’t need to see the moment, the second, the freeze frame. It plays in high definition behind his eyes. Peter’s hands raising, his hands widening in shock. The train-
Two hundred and fifty kilometres an hour.
Force equals mass times acceleration. How much does the train weigh? How much does a fucking train weigh? How much force can Peter survive? How fast did the bullets that killed Peter travel? How fast can a fourteen year old bleed out?
Tony spirals, with bullet trains and bullets calculating speed, metabolic rates, muzzle velocity, surface tension, smaller surface of the projectile, higher -
“Tony, Tony, TONY!”
Tony gasps and rolls back, batting at the hands reaching for him.
Strange is crouching before him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Tony, he survived it. The boy is alive.”
“How do you know?” Tony’s voice rises with his hands to grasp Strange’s scarred fingers.
“We couldn’t start the spells until Peter returned. We were connected when the energy rebalanced. Peter didn’t return to die. Doctor Strange would have felt it. And he would never let that happen. Peter is too important.” Strange sounds confident, sure.
Tony glances over his shoulder to Wong, who is looking at Strange with a frown. He pulls himself up, then nods once to Tony to confirm.
“He’s alive?”
“He’s alive.”
Tony stumbles into the living room, leaving the Rescue armour next to War Machine on the porch to guard the front door. The lamplight pools across his couches where Rhodey waits. He rises to his feet in a second, arm under Tony’s armpit, guiding him into the couch.
Four empty hot chocolate mugs sit on the coffee table. It’s almost too much to bear.
“Tony. What the hell is going on?” Rhodey asks, tipping Tony’s head to the side to examine the bruising pooling along the edges of his jaw. “I feel like I’ve missed about four steps.”
His head throbs where Rhodey pokes at it, and the stitches Strange had threaded into his shin sting.
Pepper runs down the stairs.
“Tony,” she drops to his side, breathless. “Did you see him? How is he?”
“He’s safe.” Tony says flatly.
“Oh thank god.” Pepper breathes, her eyes glistening with tears. “Oh thank god. I thought the worst-”
She trails off.
Tony sighs and rests the back of his head against the couch.
“You don’t look relieved.” She says.
Peter’s alive, but Tony will never see him again. Never seen either of them.
“I couldn’t see him. The rifts have been closed permanently. The door is locked now. It’s locked.”
Pepper pulls Tony into a brief hug. Tony stares blankly over her shoulder.
“So it’s over.” She says softly. "We're in the after."
It can’t be. It can’t just be over like that.
“Still four steps behind.” Rhodey chimes in.
“I’m so sorry James.” Pepper sits back. “It’s been an insane few days. Maybe tomorrow?”
Tony takes a shaky breath. Wipes his eyes. Shakes his head at them.
“FRIDAY, pull up security footage, penthouse kitchen, seven am, yesterday morning. Rhodey, I want to show you my other kid.”
The sun is just starting to rise along the water when Tony heads out to the garage. Pepper and Rhodey had been looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, letting him talk, watching the videos.
They’d found a hidden snippet of Peter and Morgan Tony had missed in real time, Peter working in the lab that first night, Morgan drawing away beside him.
“What’s your favourite colour?” She’d asked.
“Red.” Peter had said through a mouthful of the stylus he chewed on.
Tony hadn’t know that.
He hadn’t known Peter’s favourite colour. Or his favourite subject at school, though he suspects it’s chemistry. Hadn’t known his favourite brand of cereal, hadn’t noticed how he tied his shoelaces, was it left over right or two loops together, didn’t know his favourite season or time of the day.
And Tony will forever not know these things.
He needs something he does know.
Something he can assemble, can arrange, can fit together and not fuck up and not be stuck with not knowing.
The bench is littered with wires, screwdrivers and solder. Tony stares down at his tools. There’s not a thing they can do for his problems.
He starts to build anyway, the garage lit pink and orange by the early morning light.
“Boss.” FRIDAY interrupts quietly. “I have a message for you.”
Tony’s hand shudders and he drops his screwdriver to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Fucks sake FRIDAY.” He says. “Hold all messages for now.”
Can’t you see I’m having a meltdown?
“It’s from Young Master sir. It’s from Peter.” She says.
Tony’s head whips up in hope.
“He recorded it before he left.” She sounds apologetic.
“Play it.”
Peter’s projected into the centre of the room, in full holographic form, spinning in a chair.
Tony collapses back into his stool, hand grasping his chest.
“Karen, is it working? Is it recording okay?” Peter asks, spinning still.
Karen confirms and Peter stops himself abruptly, jerking upright in his chair so quickly he almost overbalances. He grips the edges of the chair and glances about sheepishly, as if he hopes no one had seen his clumsy moment, as if he’s already forgotten Karen is recording.
He clears his throat.
“Hey Mister Stark, um, Tony, I’m recording this for when I go home. Thanks a bunch for helping me with that by the way. This has been so crazy. It was really nice to meet you and your family. If it’s okay, can you tell Morgan I love her? Or not, I guess she might not even remember me when I’m gone, she’s so little.”
This kid…
“Um, thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, and looking out for me against Fury, and for including me in your family. I guess you and the other Tony aren’t that different hey?”
Peter folds his hands in his lap, looks at his interlaced fingers for a second, then pushes on.
“Anyway, on this encrypted drive you’ll find three folders. The first describes everything I know about the Infinity stones. The second contains everything I know about Thanos, space and the like. It’s all categorised in folders. The third contains the equipment and equations required for time travel. That one’s just for you. Don’t open it unless you need it.”
Peter looks up then, serious and earnest. Tony reaches out, as though he could touch the boy’s face, but his fingers sink through the blue tinged image.
“I hope you never need it. I don’t know how your timeline branched, or when. But I do know that if Thanos is out there, you don’t need to suffer the same losses we did. I’m trusting you though, Tony, to only access what you need, when you need it. I don’t have to tell you that messing around with the knowledge I’ve left you is dangerous.”
“The most important thing I can tell you though is it took us all. I know what Steve did to you, what they did to the team, and I don’t know where you’re at with it now, but more than knowledge, more than technology and planning, it took us all. I hate to ask this of you, but if it ever comes to it everyone needs to be on the same side, and that’s what counts.”
I’ll do whatever it takes Peter. Tony vows.
“Keep this information safe, please. I’ve created copies for Shuri and T’Challa in Wakanda, they have greatest response capacity outside of yours. I’ve made another copy for Captain Marvel. If you can’t find her please give it to Natasha Romanoff for safekeeping. If you don’t know who Captain Marvel is, well, if anything pings on down from space, you need to get yourself a pager. Number’s in the file. I’ve left introductory videos for these groups that should convince them my message is legitimate.”
Peter takes a deep breath, and Tony knows this is the end of the message.
“And Tony? I know you worry, about raising Morgan, about being good enough.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re the best. You’re just, you’re the best.”
Peter smiles then, a small, wistful tug at the corner of his mouth as though he’s listening to a private joke.
“Don’t trip. Everything’s going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”
FRIDAY doesn't close the message, just leaves it hovering, Peter suspended in space, small smile on his face.
The sun keep rising across the quiet countryside, and Morgan is singing from inside the house.
A new day is dawning on the lake.
Time travel.
I’ve got time travel.