Chapter Text
The mirror itself was innocuous, and maybe that should have been the first clue. It looked out of place, its intricate metal frame calling to mind fairy tales, but it was the least damning thing in a room full of weapons and books. Tony would have ignored it completely if he hadn’t been looking at just the right time to see the shadow move in the corner of his eyes, to feel like maybe there were hidden figures behind the reflective surface.
Maybe the first clue wasn’t the mirror itself, but the way the area blocked outside communication, not limited to but definitely including their identicards. Unusual, yes, but not the first place that had done it and while some had proven dangerous, others had been completely – or at least almost – safe. They’d both noted it and then agreed to keep an eye out but that their preliminary scans of the place had come back clean. Just a base full of items that they’d heard whispers of being stolen from both heroes and villains.
They didn’t think much of the dark cloud overhead or the way the fog seemed to eat the light. They were Avengers; they’d seen worse.
So yes, everything seemed normal, nothing out of place. Until Tony saw the mirror, and even then it didn’t seem that out of place, just slightly off. Just… a little different. Noticeable. Like something inside wanted him to pay attention to it, but when he looked closer, it was just a normal mirror, showing an angled view of the room back at him.
He glanced at Steve, who was examining the papers left on the desk before turning back. Mentally shrugging, Tony moved around the mirror, casually glancing at the armor as he moved into the mirror's view. For a moment, the red and gold seemed to shimmer and then fall away and Tony froze.
That wasn’t Iron Man he was looking at. That was Tony Stark. No armor, no disguise, just standing there plain as day.
Tony would have thought it was comical the way he watched his own face drain of color and his eyes widened if he weren’t currently panicking at the fact that Steve was standing just behind him and, as far as Steve was concerned, Tony Stark should be back in New York, not reflected in a mirror where Iron Man should stand, not here on this mission in the middle of the mountains.
It was suddenly a struggle to breathe, like the chest plate when it used to run out of power. In and out, small pieces of life flowing into his lungs at an irregular rate. He glanced down, the armor clanking as he checked it, then up again and then spun around, terrified that Steve would see.
“Iron Man,” Steve called from the table, choosing that very moment to turn his way. “You’ve got to take a look at this!”
Tony had fought monsters, fought people, fought villains he would never have imagined could exist. He’d practiced and trained and learned to fight gracefully, learned not to let his surprise interfere with his job.
He had no excuse, really, when he stumbled backward, backward, like stepping forward wasn’t an option, wasn’t the better way to block the mirror from Steve’s view. A panic response, he knew it was a panic response, but his body reacted without him, his countless hours of training thrown out the window. Arms held out as he stepped backward, Tony stumbled, and the world tilted and fell out of view.
…..
“Iron Man!” Steve stared at the place Iron Man had vanished from, the room suddenly a heightened silence that put him on alert. A mirror sat in the corner, swirling with dark color and Steve watched it as red and gold mixed on its surface like pain before settling into an inky stillness. He raised his shield, on alert, weighing the options in his mind.
“Iron Man?” he asked again, to no response.
Steve weighed his options, anxiously, fingers itching to react but he held himself back. The wrong move here could be catastrophic, he knew. Magic items were not to be messed idly with, especially after they captured a member of your team. If he attacked it, he could trap Iron Man forever. If he touched it, he could vanish as well. There was no knowing if Iron Man was conscious inside the mirror. There was no telling if Iron Man would be better or worse off if Steve let the mirror get him too.
Steve didn’t like it. Of course he didn’t like it; it felt like a betrayal, leaving Iron Man in there all alone. He stepped closer, just close enough to examine it, and froze.
Looking back at him wasn’t Iron Man. It was Steve, but not Steve as he was now. It was Steve before the serum, skin and bones and hunched over, looking like a breeze could take him down. It was Steve, riddled with ailments like a bullet wound, but trying to stand tall. It was Steve with no shield, no uniform, just some well-worn clothes that hung off his shoulders.
To say it was a shock was an understatement, and Steve felt his world tilt upside-down before settling again. Steve looked down, to check that the weight on his arm was still the shield, and the hand gripping it looked just the same as usual, felt just the same as usual, his strength intact. The last thing he needed right now with Iron Man in trouble was to lose his abilities. To go back to the powerless Steve Rogers of the past.
Was it just a distorted reflection? A memory? What did this mean for Iron Man? Why couldn’t Steve see anyone else behind the surface?
Steve took inventory of his surroundings. He couldn’t call anyone, not with the transmissions not working. The last time they’d gotten a signal was a few hours out. Whatever had happened, Steve was alone on this, unless he wanted to abandon Iron Man while he went for help and that was definitely not an option. Not unless nothing else worked.
On guard, Steve stepped backward towards the table, unwilling to turn his back to the thing. Maybe he could find some information in the books laying around. Anything.
Shield at the ready, he set to work, desperate to find out what the mirror was. Desperate to save Iron Man.
The mirror stood unmoving, but something about it seemed to turn and sway inside Steve, darkly circling him and reaching cold fingers toward his heart. If whatever he was feeling had Iron Man, he needed to hurry.
He felt himself shiver as forces he couldn’t see sang like darkness in his mind.
…..
When Tony woke up, he thought he was dreaming. There was no other way to describe the way his surroundings faded into darkness, the only light coming from the giant looming face of Steve Rogers that displayed shattered across the sky. The face shifted, mouth moving as if to form words, and the entire landscape around him transposed itself with the movement, like notes rearranging, first dissonant then melodic then dissonant again, as Steve’s head cut off pieces of the light coming from behind him.
“Steve,” Tony said, but the sound came out muted, snakey, like the air around him had absorbed it and turned it into a whisper. A whisper that wasn’t synthesized, that wasn’t metallic in any way. He pulled back, hands racing to his body, patting himself down as he only felt flesh and blood.
No armor. Where was his armor?
It probably said a lot about Tony that Tony didn’t want to think too deeply into that his first thought wasn’t for his own safety but instead a fear spike, a panic, as he looked up at Steve and realized his secret identity was ruined, that Steve could see him, that Steve was there.
Looking up, terrified, he saw Steve’s eyes widen, something shocked and unpleasant crossing his features and the little hope Tony had that this would be okay, that somehow his identity wouldn’t ruin everything, was immediately gone. Shit, Tony hadn’t wanted Steve to see him this way. Not yet. His heart clenched as he imagined it, imagined Steve turning away, realizing Tony wasn’t good enough to be Iron Man, that all along his best friend was just Tony and not the man that Steve thought he was.
He wouldn’t have to imagine for much longer.
Steve looked down at the shield and for a terrible moment Tony thought Steve was going to attack him, was going to swing his weapon forward and create more cracks along the sky. Maybe a piece would fall and hit Tony. Maybe a shiny new sliver of a cursed mirror was exactly what Tony had always needed where he was supposed to have a heart.
Sure, he was getting morose again, but who could blame him when he was finally ruining the only thing that mattered anymore? He guessed it was well beyond time for it to all come to an end anyway. He’d overstayed his welcome longer than he’d thought was possible, shorter than he’d hoped – he’d hoped for forever – but what was the saying? All good things must come to an end?
That didn’t mean he had to like it.
When Steve looked up again, Tony braced himself, and Steve’s face pulled tightly, eyes tracking like he was searching for something. Tony shuffled backward and tried not to hunch his shoulders inward, fighting against the sudden desire to hide. Steve’s mouth tilted downward, the wrinkle in his forehead becoming more prominent as his free hand briefly clenched, barely long enough to be noticeable, before backing up slowly, shield up, and making his way around the table while still facing the mirror. He gave it one last glance and started shifting through the books and papers laid out across the table.
The weight that pulled at Tony crushed him, making it hard to swallow. “Steve?” His voice wavered like the sound of cracking ice, but Steve didn’t look up, didn’t seem to hear the whisper that was the only sound he could produce.
“Steve?” he tried again louder and shit that hurt, but at least the scratchy sound was louder now, loud enough that he hoped Steve could hear.
Steve didn’t look up. Ignored him. No, not ignored him. Even though it felt that way, Tony couldn’t let himself forget this was Steve. Steve wouldn’t do that, not in this situation, no matter how angry he was.
Okay. Tony breathed in a deep breath, noticing the sour taste of the dusty and stale air. He looked around again, taking inventory, but the strange black landscape had no clues, no hints, nothing to offer. Logic, he needed logic and solutions, he needed to lock his feelings away right now and focus on getting out of here.
He could do that. He did that all the time. Just because today one of his repeated nightmares was coming true didn’t mean it was any different. He should be used to it by now, the things he least wanted to happen all worming their way into his life, one by one, but he could lock it away and focus, just like he dd the other times.
Tony thought back to the way the mirror looked from the outside, wondering what drew him towards it and a small bit of hope surged up inside him as he remembered how he’d seen a simple reflection, the only thing different about it being himself. Maybe Steve couldn’t see him, maybe it wasn’t over.
The thought shouldn’t have made Tony feel as light as it did, especially considering how much more difficult it might be to get out if Steve couldn’t see Tony to communicate. Well, there was only one way to test it, to know for sure if Steve was disappointed in him or if Steve knew what was happening at all.
A message. The ideal way would be to write a message.
The problem was Tony’s lack of surroundings. The landscape was relatively bare, the ground smooth and dark beneath his feet. It stretched outward, but Tony wasn’t sure how far. A darkness surrounded him on all sides that seemed to melt into the floor. An occasional dark rock marred the otherwise flat ground, only visible by the shadows they cast from the shattered overhead. Making his way over to the nearest one, Tony bent to scoop it up, wondering if he could write a message with it that Steve could see, though the bigger question was would Steve answer? Steve didn’t seem happy with him, but he was Captain America. Even if he was disappointed in Tony, he wouldn’t leave him in a place like this. Tony just needed to figure out the plan.
The moment Tony’s fingers curled around the rock, the texture sent sparks through his fingers and it dissolved into dust, shifting like sand and scattering almost frictionless across the ground. Huh. That was interesting. Shaking his hand to get the weird electrical feeling out of his fingers, Tony shifted his feet and dragged them across the surface of the floor. They slid slowly, as expected, nothing drastic happening until the edge of his foot hit a few of the dusty particles. The particles flew forward, away from him into the darkness, rattling with a sound that didn’t match their size as they flew.
There was a moment of silence and then something creaked, distant and echoing, and the darkness shifted, moving like a million restless creatures looming just out of sight. Tony’s skin crawled with imaginary insects as the darkness settled again, less calm than before. A dread snaked its way up his spine, goosebumps prickling across his arms.
“Steve, I’d really appreciate it if you’d hurry,” he whispered, because even if Steve ended up hating him, the thought that he was there brought comfort to Tony’s mind. He turned slightly, trying to ignore the feeling that he wasn’t alone. There was something about this place that felt like it shouldn’t be disturbed, like Tony messing with things would only pull him further in.
Steve glanced up and Tony’s heart skipped, raising his hands up to wave dramatically. He motioned downward like he wanted to show Steve something, sure that the least he could do was capture Steve’s curiosity if Steve could see him. It didn’t work, though, and whatever Steve was seeing simply caused his brow to pull inward slightly – a strange reaction but not the reaction Tony would expect to his frantic gesturing – and Tony felt relief floor him at the realization that Steve hadn’t seen him, wasn’t ignoring him. That he wasn’t off the team yet.
He wasn’t off the team yet. Okay. Okay, he could work with that, with the hope that gave him, making the place around him seem a little less daunting to explore. After all, he couldn’t keep sitting here useless, but it definitely helped to think maybe there was a way out of this that didn’t ruin everything.
But would the suit reappear if he exited the mirror? He didn’t have time to worry about that; it wasn’t something he could change. Now it was time for fact-gathering. For problem-solving. For finding a way back to Steve.
He started walking.
Exploring was a bad idea, he realized belatedly, after several minutes, when the darkness seemed closer like each movement towards it made it shrink, and each step backward refused to reverse the changes. The formless shapes he felt drifted closer, restless again, like a chilly breeze in a windless place.
“Hello?” Tony whispered, and thought he felt a hand touch his arm. He startled, pulled away, and he felt the darkness buzz for a moment before falling to a hush.
If only there was something to work with. Anything. Something to build his way up to the sky.
He shivered as he felt something icy slide across the back of his neck, but when he turned around, arms raised to fight, he didn’t see anything but empty space surrounded by dark.
…..
Steve was tired. He hasn’t slept much in the past few days before this mission, planning instead of falling asleep as soon as Iron Man returned home. He guessed that sleep was out of the question now, especially considering the looming pile of books left to sort through piled on the shelves and by his side.
The information inside was truly remarkable – dragons, witches, a whole realm of fantasy creatures and monsters alike – and if Steve hadn’t already seen so many things he’d thought impossible, he’d assumed they were fiction despite the scientific notations carefully written across each and every page.
So yes, it was really fascinating, but Steve went quickly, only skimming for details as page after page went by and he didn’t find any mention of a mirror.
His tiredness pulled at his body and he thought he felt whispers around him, the occasional spike of something that could have been fear. He pulled the shield closer, ready in case he needed to jump into action, and focused back on the books. Iron Man was waiting. Iron Man needed him. Steve shook his head to clear it and continued to work.
…..
Sometimes during the second day, Tony was staring up at Steve and felt his mind slide away. Tony was used to distractions, but this was different, an oily click smooth feel and then nothing, no scientific planning, no contemplating different strategies, no imagination about all the things he’d rather be doing while staring at Steve’s face. He was just there, watching Steve move, watching Steve exist as the only piece of color, the only movement in the landscape, and then Steve reached up to rub at his tired eyes and time skipped.
One moment Tony was watching him, daydreaming, letting his imagination carry him away to where his feet couldn’t when he felt it, felt the momentary blip and suddenly Steve was standing, reading toward the top of the bookshelf for another book.
Tony’s world fell sideways and he tensed, the vertigo-feeling of falling pulling at him even as his body stayed upright.
He hadn’t fallen asleep. He couldn’t seem to get tired in this place. But whatever had just happened shouldn’t be happening unless Tony were on the edge of sleep.
The world around him shifted suddenly from freezing cold to as hot as coals. Something was dripping, hot and painful like candle wax onto Tony’s arms. It was coating him, covering his head, his feet, building up in piles on the ground. It sat, caking itself on even as he moved, breaking pieces away, trying to escape only to be covered in more.
A losing battle, but he fought onward. He couldn’t give up yet. He couldn’t.
The landscape around him grew and cracked.
He glanced up at Steve and the searing pain hit his eyes, fire blurring his vision as he sank.
…..
“Damn it,” Steve slammed his hand against the table as he read the same passage for the fifth time. It blurred slightly but told him nothing new.
He couldn’t destroy the mirror without trapping Iron Man in it. Apparently others had tried and the mirror healed but the person inside was lost forever. On the other hand, the longer Iron Man stayed inside, the more he was in danger. Danger of what, it didn’t say, just that those who went inside didn’t often come back.
A magical cage was what the mirror was. An unassuming piece to trap enemies in, to destroy them, to make them suffer and never return to the world.
“Damn it,” Steve said again, his frustration bubbling tight within his chest. He sat down heavily on the ground, staring steadily at the mirror. “What am I supposed to do?”
He wondered what Iron Man would tell him. Wished Iron Man was here to give him advice. He was the strategist, sure, and good at it, but right now there didn’t seem to be a strategy he could find and he was running on fumes. Steve could go for extended periods of time without sleep, but it had been three and a half days already and he was dead on his feet.
He stared at the mirror.
“Shellhead,” he said into the stillness. “I really need you to find a way out of there.”
He blinked and the world fell away for a moment, trying to drag him into sleep. He wanted to keep going today, but he knew he wasn’t much use anymore, knew the mirror wasn’t going to attack or move now, according to the books. Sighing, he got to his feet and moved toward the door to the room. Two hours. He could give himself two hours to sleep and then return to scouring the books.
“I’ll be back,” he said, knowing Iron Man probably couldn’t hear him, and then left the room, hitting the light on his way out.
…..
Tony pushed against the hard wax around him, pushed until it moved with him, cracking and allowing him to fall sideways. He blinked, at the way Steve’s figure above him was sitting, staring straight at him unseeing, his mouth moving in words Tony couldn’t make out.
Shellhead, he thought he saw Steve’s lips form, and he felt a moment of warmth spread outward from his chest. He was so focused on Steve that it took him a moment to realize his surroundings had changed.
He was in a room now, like the interior of a gothic castle, the walls and fixtures all formed by misshapen wax. For a moment, he relaxed, realizing it felt less eerie than the stretching nothingness. A movement caught his eyes and he turn, just in time to see something dark reaching, like fingers, from around the edge of a waxen door frame, pushing slightly to make the door creak forward on its hinges.
Steve moved in Tony’s periphery but Tony didn’t look up, couldn’t take his eyes off the door, off the shadowing claws reaching their way through. He moved into a fighting stance, wishing once again the armor was here, ready to do what he had to against whatever creature it was.
Something else rustled behind him and Tony jumped sideways in a half spin, trying to see whatever made the noise without moving his eyes too far away from the door’s view.
He wasn’t watching Steve so he didn’t see Steve reach for the light switch.
Tony’s entire world plunged into pitch black.