He goes to sleep, dreaming of pepper. Like he promised.
He wakes up the next morning.
He wakes up.
He shouldn’t’ve woken up. He’s furious, for a moment, terrified for longer than that — he doesn’t want to be awake, he doesn’t want to suffocate, slowly, that horrible empty feeling in his lungs, he doesn’t—
He checks the air, in the ship.
0% oxygen, it blinks at him.
Tony tests it agian. And agian. And agian, breathing, conscious, for the whole time. He should be dead. The air ran out over four hours ago, when he was still asleep, he should be dead—
He’s not.
And suddenly, he remembers.
“Spare his life,” Strange said, and Thanos had agreed. The stones had glowed.
Tony had assumed that it was in anticipation of being made whole.
There is no oxygen, and he is alive. He is beginning to think that it was not only anticipation that made the stones glow.
clintbbarton 