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Twenty-one days. One left for oxygen. One more and that was it. It was odd to think of how quick doomsdays came for people specially for himself. Tony knew this day would come, but had tried to forget every hour that passed.
The first day after the snap he retreated to the darkest corner of his mind and sat on the same place where Peter had fallen to ash, cradling his left arm and murmuring to himself.
Nebula came back to her senses quicker than him and began collecting pieces of the broken ship. She worked mutely and didn't bother his grieving form until she ran out of ideas, but even then she just sat a few meters away and said nothing.
He felt guilty of not taking leadership for their survival, but only did what the blue skinned woman told him to do. After swallowing nearly half the painkillers of the ship he began working. The whole day of torturing misery over those who were lost seemed to be enough, and he even began cracking jokes. Nebula didn't smile- she nearly never did- but acknowledged his change.
The one discovery they both cherished were the beaten cots next to the airlock. Sleeping on the floor was not unknown for Tony, but his floors after nightmares were usually carpeted. Even during Afghanistan, when he switched spots with Yinsen for the one cot they had, the floor was earthy and warm due to the fires. Here it was cold and metallic.
The cots were one of their few discoveries. A few alien medicine cabinets with odd looking painkillers, small food stores and, to his annoyance, dozens upon dozens of 60’s music records. Nearly no AC/DC or chances of survival.
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After useless hours of work, Nebula refused to let him continue and insisted for him to take a break. Afraid of her near sadistic glance when he promptly said no, he settled back on a circle of fallen debri and cradles his damaged helmet. Nighttime never seemed to fall on Titan, so he simply enabled the recorder inside it and talked.
“Of all the things I’d wish had survived, a recorder wasn't one of them. But with my luck it kind of makes sense, you know? Ah, the irony. It's like I'm saying my own obituary.”
His voice felt raspier than usual, but there was a comfort in talking.
“Pepper, if you’re hearing this… well, I for once don’t know what to say. I’ve lost all my edge at jokes, badly enough that Blue Man Group here doesn't understand half of what I say…”
He unconsciously rubbed his left arm and stared up at the sky. Since their battle the atmosphere remained a shrill orange.
“I can't lie to you, Pepps, though I wish I could. And I….” his voice seems to break. “I lost the kid. And probably you as well. And Rhodey, maybe Happy…. I know the chance is fifty/fifty but with my luck….”
He trailed off in silence and turned off the device. He couldn't bring himself to talk and simply drifted off into a dreamless night.
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However much it terrified him to leave the oxygen of the planet and ride a half destroyed ship to space, every second on the planet mauled him alive. Whenever a wave of reddish dust was lifted he could feel Peter’s arms digging into his and the reminder that Pepper only had a half a chance of being alive.
His mood turned sweeter though, especially when Nebula failed to recreate one of his puns. It was the first time he saw her smile, the edges of her dark mouth twitching up when he laughed.
With a leap of luck and faith, the orange-blue ship worked perfectly enough to get them away from the planet. Nebula refused to look at it through the thick glass, but Tony studied the sphere as it became smaller and smaller.
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“Did you know how important it is to track days- of course you do, you always told me that during uni.”
Tony smiled and cracked his knuckles, looking at the space before him and imagining Rhodey rolling his eyes.
“I never did take track of time during those- what did you call them? Raves, parties, whatever they were. I always told you otherwise, but no party was as fun as those movie nights we had. I remember when you got annoyed over my lack of care for the age limitations. But I mean, what fourteen year old nowadays acknowledges the Rated R-symbol?”
The ship shaked a lot, but after time passed he seemed to get used to it, only stopping his actions momentarily until the quivers ceased.
“Another thing I’m really craving is Anna’s lasagna. Remember that dish, Rhodes? You made my essays for those- Wait, Nebula- Meanie’s calling. And I really need to cut the call because charging these helmet’s a pain. Love you tons, honeybear.”
He smiled to himself, genuinely revived by the one way conversation.
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It was impossible to keep track of time without the sun, and his clock was long gone in the battle, so he simply counted the beeps of working machinery. By sense he could make out more or less an hour, and used the system until Nebula revealed she had kept a watch belonging to Peter. He nearly wept when he took it in shaky hands, and hanged it on his neck with some misplaced rope.
Days were endless- they mostly worked on repairing what was available in the ship. Tony usually tried to crack up jokes, but only he would momentarily laugh and have to explain them to his partner. He took a liking for naps, if, again, they were to be called that. He would lay on the cold floor, look at the glass with tired eyes and watch the endlessly unchanging void of space. At first he was amazed by the galaxies they came across, but as the ship shifted into pits of black, the illusion faded. His child self would be disappointed in the dullness of the view, especially for a kid who dreamed of stars.
Nebula herself never seemed to sleep. Whenever he would officially retire for the day, she would stand or sit in the middle of the ship and simply stare at the ground. Sometimes the mechanical sides of her face tinker, moving around, but he didn't ask.
Once they even watched a film through her mechanic eye. She sometimes, very spontaneously, asked him questions of Earth. At first Tony was reluctant to answer and remember Pepper so many miles away, but as the days passed he enjoyed talking about simplistic things like pizza.
When she asked multiple times about Orson Welles and he finally inquired about it, she started showing the film and he could only gawk quietly before settling to watch it. How Nebula acquired the 1940s classic he never knew.
Their eminent doom got closer every day, and Tony could only burn his fingers with oil to try and repair an unrepairable ship, or log his testament to the nano-helmet. Nebula would sometimes watch him talk, but, differently to Earth, she never asked questions of his life.
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“And one more.”
“Led Zeppelin.”
Tony made a gagging expression as he stopped the song. “Nebula, dear, don’t ever say that again- No, just kidding. Just kidding!”
He lifted his hands in defeat as the woman tightened her hold around a wrench.
“It was AC/DC. Just that.”
She replied with a grunt, starting again at the record player loosely connected to his helmet. Highway to Hell began playing in a lower volume as Tony rallied up the points.
“Oh, would you look at that!”
“What?”
“You won again.”
She smiled, the third time in their whole trip together, and took the device into her hands.
“You lost.” she said.
“Well, it tends to happen.”
She kept staring at the thing as Tony stood and stretched, gulping down the thin air tiredly. Nebula didn't seem as affected as he was with the dying oxygen levels or dehydration. He felt it to his core.
He settled down on the floor next to some miniaturized solar panels and began working on them.
“Tony?”
Without looking up, he mumbled. “Yeah?”
“What was the Spider to you?”
The question struck him as a slap to the face. Tony shuddered quietly, taking a deep breath before looking for an appropriate answer. Unfortunately, as he opened his mouth to tell her the long non existent internship story, words failed.
Nebula coked her head to the side. “You two were close.”
“Yeah, yeah we were.” he finally blurted. “He was, in a weird way, my son.”
The blue skinned female tensed her shoulders. “Son? You treated him fairly.”
“Of course I did, weirdo, why wouldn't I?” He had turned to look at her very suddenly and snapped, but noticed how the fierceness in her eyes shifted.
“I am sorry.” she said, getting up from her seat and turning to leave. “Parental relationships in Terra are much more different from what I know.”
Guilt pooled in Tony’s stomach as Nebula retreated from the makeshift game room, but did nothing. The objects he was working on had vanished from his train of thought. He had made a mistake, again.
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She came back to his side as he shook awake from another nightmare filled with disintegrating faces. All those eyes, piercing him like daggers for his failure faded as she sat criss cross, keeping quiet for even longer.
“Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you, I-”
“I understand.” she interrupted. “Your father hurt you too.”
Once again Tony felt the planned apology slapped away from him. He stared at her expressionless face with a gawking mouth. “How did you-”
“I could sense it. And you haven't gotten over it.”
For the first time in their captivity together, Tony felt as if she was teaching him something. He had always been the teacher- from the basics of an aluminium paper football match to the concept of a loser not being punished. Tony knew she was a damaged person and tried to coax her gently towards a less aggressive demeanor, but never expected this soft, even gentle sentence.
“Is it why you feel so guilty about the spider-boy?”
Tony fiddled with his fingers, correcting her. “Spider-Man.”
She frowned. “Yes. Him.”
“I… I just wanted to break the cycle, you know? Kid only had his aunt, no parents and he…” he sighed. “He wanted to be just like me, weirdly enough. And whenever a kid looks up to someone that much- I, I couldn't ruin it. But I did. Just like my old man.”
Nebula nodded and approached, placing an awkward hand on the side of his face. The palm was metal cold, and he realized she was trying to imitate the kind gestures from the noir. films they sometimes watched.
Tony managed a soft smile, and placed his own calloused fingers on top of her hands.
“What about you?”
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Day twenty two and he can barely walk without support. Nebula senses his weakening and probably guesses that he will pass before her. She stops his idle hands from work and shoves him gently to the front of the ship.
The helmet no longer has its red dazzle and nearly disintegrates when he touches it.
“Is this thing on… Hey Miss Potts.” He took in a deep breath. “If you find this recording, don’t post it on social media, it's gonna be a real tearjerker. I don't really know if you're gonna see these…. Oh god I am sorry.”
He can only record the last message in the blue shades that light the compressed area, and try to muffle his desperation. The words pour out of his mouth in soft resignation. After a while of talking he finally comprehends that there's no way out. That's the end. Just like in New York.
“Oxygen will run out tomorrow morning and that’ll… be it.”
He can picture Pepper, leaning on her knees, or perhaps on the floor, listening to this message many years from now. The pitiful explanation of how her husband was lost, or more heavily, how her husband lost their kid.
“I know- 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…”
Tony sighs softly and picture’s the woman’s bittersweet face, a teary smile wrinkling her precious eyes and cradling his face.
“ Well, you know what it looks like. Of course you do. You always know everything- don’t feel bad about this. I mean-” he smirked to himself. “If you grovel for a couple of weeks, and then move on with enormous guilt…”
He can sense Nebula gently watching him from the distance, and perhaps she holds even a little more emotion in her eyes.
“I should probably lie down. I wanna, rest my head. Please know that when I drift off… and I’m fine, totally fine. But when I drift off…”
His voice reduced to a whisper. “... I’m going to dream about you. ”
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She could tell by the softness of his breaths that he wouldn't last much longer. Perhaps five or six more hours, four if the ship continued to get as cold. For once she was thankful of her robotic implants, allowing her to watch over the man- over her friend.
His skin was cold when she placed a blanket over his thin frame. Nebula kneeled down, cupping the side of his face. Just like in Terra. Her hand was probably also cold, but he always took this action as affection.
I’m going to dream about you. Because it's always you.
She had never had someone like that in her life. But Tony Stark did. And she would try her best to get him home.