It's been nearly a month, at least. The ship can't make it any farther, not unless Tony wants to die more quickly. They're adrift, waiting simply for someone to come along and rescue them. Nebula might wait for years; she doesn't need oxygen or food or water. She's a cyborg. She'll last for a while. But it'll get lonely when he's gone.
Because he will be. No matter how much he wants to get home, he won't. He's held out hope until the last, even though he's prepared for the worst. Well, it's the last last. And he's glad he prepared. Just a... few loose ends that need tying up. A final goodbye.
He sits in the cockpit, on the floor, the half-broken Iron Man helmet in front of him. He turns it on, and it flashes. He taps it as it scans him. "This thing on?" He starts with the easier thing of the two. Even though it's still hard. "Hey, Miss Potts. Pep," he says, sitting back, exhaling. "If you find this recording, don't post it on social media; it's gonna be a real tear-jerker. I don't know if you're ever going to see these. I don't even know if you're still..." He can't say it. "Gosh, I hope so... Today is day twenty one? — no, uh, twenty two." He takes a deep breath. "You know, if it wasn't for the existential terror of staring into a void of space, I'd say I'm feeling better today. The infection's run its course, thanks to the blue meanie back there. You'd love her. Very practical. Only a tiny bit sadistic." He pauses for a while, trying to breathe. "Some fuel cells were cracked during battle, but we figured out a way to reverse the ion charge to buy ourselves about forty eight hours of time. But it's now dead in the water. We're a thousand light years from the nearest 7-11. Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning. And that'll be it.
"And Pep, I-I know I said no more surprises, but I gotta say, I was really hoping to pull off one last one. But it looks like... well, you know what it looks like. Don't feel bad about this. I mean, actually, just sorta grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt." His head is swimming, his stomach aches, his mouth his dry. "I should probably lie down for a minute, rest my eyes. Please know... that when I drift off, it'll be like every night lately. I'm fine — totally fine... I dream about you and Grace. Our family. Because it's always you two. Always..."
He takes a deep breath, continues. "And that was my smooth transition into my message for you, Grace... I'm sure you'll appreciate that, what with how much you read and stuff. How good your essays always were for school." He laughs quietly, weakly. "I still don't know why you would have me read them to see if they were any good. They always were... I couldn't do better." He takes another deep breath. "Anyway, I... I know you heard Pepper's message, so I don't need to explain what happened. You already know. But I don't recall saying that I love you in that message, so I'll say it now... I love you, sweetheart. Never forget that. Never. That's the one thing I ask of you. Break any of my other rules — even leave the compound, if you want, go out in the world; I won't be there to stop you. Just remember how much I love you.
"I am so proud of you and the person you've become. You have no idea how proud of you I am... You're gonna go far, sweetheart." He pauses again, for a long time, a nagging at the back of his mind. He's avoided it too long. "And, Grace, there's... there's one more thing. I hadn't mentioned it before, when I was just... logging what had happened, basically. I was hoping that I could tell you in person, because this is really something better said that way. But if I don't record it you'll never get to hear it at all, since I... well, you know. I mean, Cyberwoman in there heard the kid, I'm sure, but it's not her responsibility to remember. Or to tell you. He asked me to, and I told him I would. So here I am. Telling you. And rambling about it.
"Peter, he... well, he didn't... he..." How is supposed to say it? "... he didn't make it. And... when he was... when he didn't have much time left... he told me to tell you that he was sorry. He said, 'Tell her I'm sorry...' so I assume he means you. Who else could he mean? May?
"Hey, just in case, play this part for May, okay? Okay, here goes: May, I'm so sorry that I... that I failed you. And Peter. He... He didn't make it. But before he... He asked me to tell you he was sorry. Either you or Grace. Maybe both. I'm sure he means it either way, though. And I'm sorry too..." He clears his throat. "Okay, Grace, I'm back. Just had to... cover all the bases. I'm sorry too, you know. I'm sorry I couldn't make it back home. And you know what the funny thing is? I don't even know if you're there — you or Pepper. I hope you are. I hope you're alright. But if you're not, I'll be seeing you soon, right? Win-win, I guess? Maybe not. I don't know. But I do know that I love you. Remember... to remember that, sweetheart." He exhales, his eyes starting to close; he can't keep them open. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna rest now. Just... Just for a moment..."
He lay down, putting his jacket half on, trying to keep warm, even though he knows it won't fight off the cold. He uses his arm as a pillow for a while, then he's vaguely aware of Nebula pushing him onto his back, trying to see if he's still alive. She lifts him, puts him in the pilot's chair so that he can sit up. There's deep, blue light behind his eyelids, soft enough to fade away to.
But then it brightens.
It brightens, and brightens, and brightens, and with it comes noise, a booming, a sound of power.
Tony opens his eyes, but he can't see what the source is; it's blinding. He has to shield his eyes.
It seems to move, getting closer, and then, Tony sees a woman — one he doesn't recognize — in that light, smiling at him in accomplishment, and he almost thinks he's imagining it.
He looks much thinner than in the picture, but Carol is certain: that's Grace's father.
~~~~
Grace is sitting in her room, alone, the state she thought she'd rather be in to try to gather her thoughts, maybe calm her mind. But it might actually be worse than sitting around with a bunch of other worried, hurting, waiting people.
She lay in bed, unable to sleep, not wanting to draw or paint or read or anything. She isn't even crying, something she's been doing a good bit of lately. Just laying, curled up in a ball as if that will lessen the pit of worry in her stomach.
The ground begins to rumble, so faintly at first that she believes she's imagining it, but then it's stronger, shaking her easel, her desk, her dresser, her bed. Unignorable.
She gets up on unsure feet, moves to the window. In the distance, a large ship is getting closer and closer, a bright light underneath, carrying it home.
Carol.
Grace turns and runs, shouting for her mother, for Happy, for Nat, for Rhodey, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Rocket, or anyone that can hear her. She runs outside, barefoot, into the grass, Pepper right next to her. The ship lands far away, seemingly miles, and they run to meet it. The others are behind them.
Carol sees Grace from a distance and nods at her, and Grace turns as the ship's steps are lowered and a strange, blue woman helps her father down them. Steve rushes forward to help too. Tony's thin. He's so, so thin.
Skin and bones, ragged breathing, pallid complexion. He looks like death, but he's alive.
He's alive.
Tony sees only open grass and Steve holding onto him. "Couldn't stop him," he whispers, his voice refusing to rise.
"Neither could I," Steve replies.
Tony stops, won't let Steve take him any farther, needing to say it, to tell someone — anyone but who he needs to tell — the grief and the guilt weighing on him. "I lost the kid."
Steve inhales sharply. His heart already breaks for the girl, still relieved, running through the grass. He shakes his head. "It's not your fault, Tony."
Tony won't argue, not having the energy for it, the desire to see his family, the fear that he won't, taking priority over anything else anyway. "Is, uh...?"
Steve nods towards them, behind Tony. They've finally reached him.
"Dad!" Tony turns as Grace crashes into him, nearly knocking him over, but Pepper is close, close enough to catch him, and Tony holds onto her too. They're both crying, clinging to him in relief.
"Tony," Pepper says breathlessly.
"It's okay," he replies. "It's okay now." He lets himself be relieved that they're alive, breathing, standing in front of him. He pulls back to marvel in it, to look at them. "You're okay." He's amazed when he says it.
"Yeah," Pepper says with a teary smile. "Yeah, for the most part."
Grace takes a shaky breath, nearly happy beyond belief, almost euphoric even; her dad is alive, in front of her, okay. Not dust. Not gone. But there's one more thing, one more worrying thing that needs relieved. One more question that needs answered to make it all better.
She looks behind her father, at the ship, sees only the blue woman and Rocket. She looks back at Tony. "Where's Peter?"
Tony's heart seizes. The tears he didn't know he had left sting his eyes. His throat closes, he can't speak. He can't say it, not to her.
The dread begins to set in, to grow in the pit of Grace's stomach, but she won't let it. She pulls at its roots, yanks them up, even when they keep coming. "Dad..." Say something, she thinks. Say he's okay.
Tony closes his eyes. "Grace..." he breathes.
She pulls. She tugs. She struggles. Moves away, towards the ship. "Where is he?" She walks past the blue woman and Rocket, heading up the stairs. "Is he on the ship?"
The blue woman turns, stops Grace in her tracks, her voice deep, tinged with sadness. "There's... no one else on there."
Grace turns back, looks at Tony, whose heart is shredding into a million pieces. "Grace, he-"
She shakes her head. Pulling, tugging, desperately, though it's already turning into grief now. "No," she says.
"I'm sorry," Tony tries.
It tears into her. "No."
"I'm so sorry."
"He-He can't be..." Her voice breaks, and she stumbles, trying to walk back down the steps. Nat steps forward to catch her, even though she's too far away. The blue woman does it instead, then helps her back to the ground. Grace barely notices. She moves over to Tony, the tears beginning to pour.
Quietly, painfully, he says, "He told me to tell you..." he takes in a breath "... that he was sorry."
And she knows now. No room for denial, no room for chance, no room for a happy ending, or as happy as he could make it, just by being here, being alive, holding her, kissing her, telling her it's alright they're safe now it's over and everything can go back to the way it was before.
But it can't. And it won't. Ever.
Her knees give out and she collapses, sobbing uncontrollably, right into Tony's arms. It knocks them both to the ground, but still Tony holds onto her, trying to make it better. Rubbing her back, stroking her hair with weak hands, trying to rock her back and forth like he used to, before any of this happened. "It's okay. It's okay..."
He's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone- "It's not okay!" Her voice scrapes the night, grating, anguished. "It's not..."
Pepper sinks to her knees next to them, pushing down her own grief, wrapping her arms around Grace too, like she's trying to protect her from what's already happened. Rhodey begins to cry, not just for Grace, but for Peter. And Nat feels the loss like her own, just by hearing Grace's sobs.
Steve nods to everyone else, silently telling them to move away, to give them space, though he stays close by to help bring Tony back inside when he's ready. Rocket grabs Nebula's hand and pulls her away, her face contorted into something like pain, sensing theirs. Carol turns, hurting for them, and stands next to Steve. Bruce, with an aching heart, walks away, and Rhodey, tearing his glassy eyes away from the tragedy on the grass, goes too. Nat, finally, follows them, trying to think of a way to make it better, to fix it, or at least alleviate the pain.
Carol looks at Steve, a curiosity amidst all this hurt. "Who... Who was he, exactly?" she asks gently. She knows his name, knows what he looked like, knows how Grace cares for him — but she doesn't know why. "Peter?"
Steve sighs. "Her boyfriend. Of... two and a half years now..."
"Poor kid..." Rocket mumbles, because there's nothing else to say, especially not when they all lost, when so many were gone.
On the grass, Grace cries until she can't breathe, until she begins to calm, the tears running out but the pain going no where, bleeding out of a fresh wound. She's laying against Pepper, as Tony can't hold her up. He needs food. He needs water. But he won't leave his daughter, not like this.
Pepper looks at Tony, then back down at Grace. "Come on, honey," she says softly. "Let's go inside." She tries to lift her up. "Come on..."
Grace stands with Pepper's help, silent tears running down her face, sniffling as she breathes. Steve walks over to help Tony up, to walk him inside.
They trudge back in, all broken, all bruised, all grieving.