Chapter Text
The cold bites at his face and his eyes are squinted against the wind, offering only a blurry vision of the featureless white world in front of him. He stumbles in the snow and barely catches himself before he falls.
Of course, the Iron Man armor is insulated and could resist to the most extreme temperatures, but these days the suit is barely more than scrap metal. The helmet is long gone, the chest plate is torn in places and sports scorch marks, the internal circuitry is shot to hell, and without Extremis... If Tony didn't know for a fact that he couldn't stand without it, let alone make the journey here, he would have ditched it a long time ago.
He stumbles again and this time falls face first into the snow. The shock of the cold makes him gasp, and he blinks, his eyes burning. He gingerly gets up and locks his knees so as to not fall again.
He's at the end of his rope. If he stops and thinks too long about it, he knows what he's come to do is hopeless. But without Extremis, without spare Iron Man suits, alone against everyone…
It's not like he has other options, so he just grits his teeth and raises his eyes.
And there she is.
She stands in the snow, a couple of feet from him, dressed in what looks like a very warm furred coat, a scarf covering most of her face, but it's her. It's her.
And she's here.
His knees give out under him one last time, and with a broken sob he kneels in the snow.
"Wanda," he says. "You found me."
She stares at him for a long time. "I don't know you," she says. Then, "I like to go out after it has snowed. Everything looks… untouched. It feels as if you are first one in the world. Or the last one. The only one."
He nods slowly, energy tickling away. Sheer force of will and denial got him here, but now that he has found her – that she has found him – he's finally fully conscious of the absolute idiocy of his plan. It's not even a plan; it's a flight of fancy, a wish, a futile hope.
He snorts. No more hope.
"There's always some hope," she tells him, and he realizes he must have spoken out loud. "Would you be here if there wasn't?"
But there's no more hope; there hasn't been for such a long time. He should have learned by now. It's not hope that kept Tony going all these years, that got him here. It's regret. His regrets.
"You look cold," she says, but she makes no move to offer him some of her warm clothing. Tony wonders what he must look like to her. Damaged to the point where armor seems to blend and become flesh, he must seem like a half man, half robot abomination. She doesn't look scared, though. "You look very lonely. And sad."
"You have to help us—me," Tony says. His voice is rough and barely above a whisper, but he's sure she can hear him. "We were divided, too weak," he continues. Skrulls were brilliant tacticians, he can admit this at least. And so is Norman Osborn. Of course, he's a madman drunk on power, as well, but that description touches a little too close to home.
She remains silent.
"Help me," he pleads, finally. "Help me. I don't care how you do it, just help me. Please. I need to make things right. You brought Clint back, you created a whole new world for everyone, you…" he trails off, having no more words.
She says nothing, just stares.
He sighs, and his head sinks low, his chin coming to rest against the cold of the chest plate. He has no more strength. He'll just kneel here, waiting for the cold to kill him. He's heard it's one of the most peaceful ways to go, hypothermia numbing everything, until you can't feel anything anymore and then you fall asleep. Tony hasn't felt anything for a long time, but sleep— sleep he craves.
To close your eyes and dream nothing, that would be bliss.
"You look tired," she says, finally. "You should sleep."
He lets himself fall back into the snow. Above them the sky is clear and so blue it hurts, as if it didn't know that the world below it was falling apart. As if it didn't care.
It's been a long time since Tony last saw that particular shade of blue.
He closes his eyes. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah I will."
"Isn't it strange?" she says, after a long time, but the voice is far away, at the edge of his consciousness. "You close your eyes and the world disappears."