Chapter Text
Tony Stark wakes up in a dark cave in Afghanistan with a car battery sewn into his chest. It’s the turning point of his life. His superhero origin story. The place of his metaphorical rebirth.
So maybe he shouldn’t be surprised when he opens his eyes after snapping to rid the universe of Thanos and finds himself back where it all began. Maybe it was—to borrow the phrase—inevitable.
“Shit,” Tony curses, struggling to sit up. Pain flares in his chest and he heeds the warning to stop moving. It’s not as excruciating as wielding the stones, but so far life after death is a hell of a lot more painful than he was hoping it would be.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Tony hasn’t heard that voice in years, but he recognizes it instantly all the same. Yinsen. He’s standing there in the corner, shaving.
How…mundane, for a ghost. Do ghosts need to shave? Will Tony still need to shave?
“Yeah,” Tony manages to croak. His throat is dry and scratchy. He could really use a glass of water. “I figured that out.”
It’s not that Tony cherishes deeply held beliefs about an afterlife—despite years of Catholic boarding school as a kid—but this is startlingly physical.
Still lying down, Tony begins carefully pulling the nasal cannula from his nose. “So what now?” he asks Yinsen. Or Yinsen’s ghost. Or the facsimile of Yinsen created by his own guilty subconscious, since surely the good doctor is somewhere peaceful with his family, not once again stuck in this cave with Tony. “Do I just sit here or am I supposed to do something?”
Yinsen’s face creases. “I’m sure our captors will make their demands clear soon enough. You should rest while you can. Here,” he puts down the razor and crosses the room, bringing Tony a cup of water from the nearby table, “drink this.”
“Thank you.” Mentally prepared for the pain now, this time Tony is able to push himself into a sitting position. He’s parched enough to want to gulp the water down, but smart enough to take it slow. If ghosts can get nauseous and throw up, Tony doesn’t want to find out through first hand experience.
Yinsen is staring at him.
“What?” Tony can’t help twisting his lips up into his trademark press smile. “I got something on my face?”
Yinsen doesn’t smile back. In fact, he’s starting to look confused. “You are handling this situation with more equanimity than most men would.”
Tony shrugs. “It’s not the weirdest day I've had."
“We are a long way from the life you are used to, Stark. Your money and influence won’t help you here. Neither will your reputation as The Merchant of Death, though that is no doubt why our hosts ordered me to save your life.”
There it is. Tony had hoped that saving half the universe would be enough to clear the red out of his ledger, but apparently not. He can't say he's really surprised. Briefly he spares a thought for Romanoff. Wherever she is, he hopes the afterlife is going better for her, and that she’s not stuck in The Red Room for all eternity.
His thoughts are drawn back to his own predicament by Yinsen's voice.
"I removed as much of the shrapnel as I could, but there’s a lot left. That,” Yinsen points to his chest, “is an electromagnet, hooked up to the car battery. Together they are keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.”
The longer Tony sits, breathing around the fiery pain in his chest, the less dead he feels. And then, suddenly, it clicks. His own warning to Steve and Scott rises in his mind.
You mess with time it tends to mess back.
Surely dead men don’t crave cheeseburgers.
But if he’s alive, and the infinity stones really sent his 53-year-old consciousness back into his 38-year-old body...this is 2008.
Morgan doesn’t exist.
The one thing Tony insisted he couldn’t lose, absolutely wouldn’t risk, and she’s gone.
Tears burn in his eyes. This isn’t the time or place to fall apart. He can mourn his daughter when he’s back home.
Back home in a house that was blown up a decade ago. Without his wife. And how is he supposed to interact normally with Pepper when she's just his employée? After the life they built together? The daughter she doesn’t remember?
Part of Tony is tempted to yank the car battery from where his heart should be and let himself bleed out on the cave floor. It would be fitting. But he can’t do that. Yinsen is counting on him. Somewhere in Queens, an itty bitty Peter Parker is counting on him. And Thanos is still out there.
Besides, who's to say he wouldn't just wake up here in the cave again, like an especially hellish form of Groundhog Day?
So first things first, get out of this cave, deal with the terrorists using his weapons, and this time, get Yinsen out with him.
He has an advantage. The Ten Rings think they kidnapped Tony Stark, spoiled playboy. Instead, they have Iron Man, the Avenger. He's trained with some of the most dangerous people on the planet. He’s faced Nazis. He’s faced gods.
A few terrorists aren’t going to be a problem.
Although the fact that he can still barely move might be. He needs some time to heal. Some time to plan. He can't just fight his way out. Not yet.
He's going to have to play along. Even if the idea smarts like salt in a wound—the best strategy is to let his captors think he’s exactly who they think he is; a spineless, spoiled brat who will give into their demands to build them a Jericho.