[ For 22 days, Tony has been agonizing about what happened on Titan. When the infection threatened to do him in, it was almost a welcome distraction because it kept the memories at bay. At first, anyway; when the fever began, he started hallucinating Peter. Steve. He kept losing them, over and over. He’d see Steve, blaming him for their son’s death. How could you take him with you? He was your responsibility. How could you? Nebula never mentioned his cries, or the way he’d wake up screaming; she just hold him down until the worst of it passed and Tony calmed enough to sleep again.
Now the worst of the infection has passed, but the pain hasn’t. The physical one is nothing compared to the anguish he feels - the failure, the guilt - and while being rescued should fill him with relief, he finds himself almost resisting to it. No, he doesn’t deserve to live. He deserves to stay there, in space, and die where his son died. Not on earth. Earth holds nothing for him anymore.
He finds himself being wrong yet again, though, when the doors open and he sees Steve running to him. Nebula glances over at him, as if silently asking him if he’s okay, especially at the way she has to tighten her hold on him since his knees feel like they buckle at the sight of the man he has missed for years now, but Tony just nods faintly back. It’s not okay - he is not okay, but he’d be lying if he’s not relieved to see him. He’s alive, he thinks as he prays to a god he doesn’t even believe in that this isn’t another hallucination. That Steve is really okay, and here.
The guilt that follows is crushing, though, and Tony almost stumbles again as he admits his defeat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he wants to say, but when he opens his mouth again he can’t speak, but thankfully Steve takes him into his arms instead. He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks as he tries to hug him back, his now frail frame getting lost in Steve’s embrace, and for a moment he feels his eyes fill with tears as the guilt is mixed with relief. He’s here. He hadn’t been dusted, too.
With Steve’s help, they make it back to the compound, the rest of what he assumes remains of the team following close by. Bruce ushers them to the medical bay the moment they cross the doors, talking about fluids and IV lines, and while Tony tries to resist at first - he doesn’t want to lay down, he doesn’t want to be even more useless than he already feels - but one glance at Steve and those damn blue eyes of his, and Tony reluctantly agrees. They help him take off the jacket he’s wearing, and without even glancing at them he can feel the way Bruce glances at Steve when they see how awful he truly looks. After all, almost dying of a stab wound, an infection from said stab wound, and not having food or water for days has taken its toll on him. ]
...if it helps, I actually looked worse a few days ago. [ Felt it, at least.
He shivers slightly as the IV line is injected and the fluids start running through his veins. ]
omg it’s perfect! Let me know if you want me to change anything ❤️
Now the worst of the infection has passed, but the pain hasn’t. The physical one is nothing compared to the anguish he feels - the failure, the guilt - and while being rescued should fill him with relief, he finds himself almost resisting to it. No, he doesn’t deserve to live. He deserves to stay there, in space, and die where his son died. Not on earth. Earth holds nothing for him anymore.
He finds himself being wrong yet again, though, when the doors open and he sees Steve running to him. Nebula glances over at him, as if silently asking him if he’s okay, especially at the way she has to tighten her hold on him since his knees feel like they buckle at the sight of the man he has missed for years now, but Tony just nods faintly back. It’s not okay - he is not okay, but he’d be lying if he’s not relieved to see him. He’s alive, he thinks as he prays to a god he doesn’t even believe in that this isn’t another hallucination. That Steve is really okay, and here.
The guilt that follows is crushing, though, and Tony almost stumbles again as he admits his defeat. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he wants to say, but when he opens his mouth again he can’t speak, but thankfully Steve takes him into his arms instead. He doesn’t deserve this, he thinks as he tries to hug him back, his now frail frame getting lost in Steve’s embrace, and for a moment he feels his eyes fill with tears as the guilt is mixed with relief. He’s here. He hadn’t been dusted, too.
With Steve’s help, they make it back to the compound, the rest of what he assumes remains of the team following close by. Bruce ushers them to the medical bay the moment they cross the doors, talking about fluids and IV lines, and while Tony tries to resist at first - he doesn’t want to lay down, he doesn’t want to be even more useless than he already feels - but one glance at Steve and those damn blue eyes of his, and Tony reluctantly agrees. They help him take off the jacket he’s wearing, and without even glancing at them he can feel the way Bruce glances at Steve when they see how awful he truly looks. After all, almost dying of a stab wound, an infection from said stab wound, and not having food or water for days has taken its toll on him. ]
...if it helps, I actually looked worse a few days ago. [ Felt it, at least.
He shivers slightly as the IV line is injected and the fluids start running through his veins. ]
How bad has it been here?