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Tony sighed and slumped against the bulkhead. Nebula had said that she'd done the best she could do, but the ship was wrecked from the battle, and she'd run out of parts to fix it.
They were going to die out here in the black of space.
Ever since he'd flown that nuke into space, Tony had had nightmares about dying in the darkness with nothing to see but distant stars. Now it was finally going to happen, like some sick kind of premonition.
Tony had always thought that shipwrecks happened to people on boats, and at worst he'd imagined himself on some party yacht run aground on a sandbar. Tony never went off into the middle of the ocean, never wanting to tempt fate. And now, here he was, shipwrecked in a whole different way than he'd ever imagined, but just as lost and lonely.
Nebula wasn't much of a talker on a good day, and this was far from a good day. Since she'd announced that they only had 49 hours of air left, she'd vanished into the depths of the ship. Now Tony was sitting alone on the bridge, leaning against the window, watching space travel by. He wasn't even sure if Rhodey had survived the snap, but Tony had done his best not to think about it. He would rather picture Rhodey alive and waiting for him than to imagine him turning to dust like the kid had, a million miles away.
He wanted to be home, more than anything. Wanted to feel Rhodey's arms wrap around him one more time. It was cold in space, especially with the environmental controls not working at full capacity, and Tony felt like he'd never be warm again. Just the memory of being safe in Rhodey's arms was helping a little, but he wanted more.
He wanted to snuggle up in one of the hand knitted blankets that had always been tucked deep in the closet of his mansion, but now liberally littered their small lake house. Rhodey had learned to knit from his grandma, and though he kept it secret from most — not wanting to deal with the likely teasing that would follow that revelation — Tony had found out during their MIT years. What he wouldn't give to be wrapped up safe in one of Rhodey's blankets right now, instead of shipwrecked in space with a barely communicative alien as his only company.
Tony even knew which one he wanted. Though ostensibly his favorite was the Iron Man red and gold one that lived on the back of their guest armchair in the living room, in truth his favorite was the one done in shades of blue that lived on their bed. It was the first one that Rhodey had made for him, as a graduation present when he got his first degree from MIT. It had been with him for years, and he would never part with it.
Tony could almost feel it around his shoulders now, keeping out the chill of the evening spreading across the lake, or comforting him during a Bostonian blizzard. It probably wouldn't do much against the frozen, inky expanse of space, but he could dream, couldn't he?
Tony glanced at his helmet, where he'd recorded a message for Rhodey. It was done, and all he had left were his day dreams and memories. Even the darkness of space seemed a little bit lighter at the moment.
No, his brain finally registered. That wasn't his imagination painting a more idyllic end. That was a bright light coming towards them. A bright light that soon evolved into a person shaped figure.
They were saved.