Archive of Our Own ^beta

He didn't know how, but this was wrong. Very, very wrong. Tony stared around the living room and kitchen, unnerved by the silence. He'd woken up, head buried in the guts of another suit, and wandered into the main living areas...only to find absolutely no one around. This...this was not cool.

"Thor, Pop Tarts!" Nothing.

"Hey, Birdbrain!" Just the quiet whirr of the air conditioning.

"Natasha, I'm stealing your bra to shoot water balloons!" Not even the urge to duck, and Tony felt the fear crawl over his skin.

"Bruce, Capsicle?" Nobody answered, and Tony stalked down to the shared labs, calling on Jarvis for surveillance, heat signatures...when he felt his heart drop clear through his stomach.

Not even the AI answered.

"...fuck."

Tony searched every inch of the Tower, his pace speeding as he called out every name in his vast memory, the fear almost a suffocating thing, almost as terrible as...he shook off the flashback, his will bracing against the onslaught of emotions.

He had to hold it together. He had to because Bruce did everyday, because of Steve, because Pep and Tasha and Agent and Clint, Thor and Happy and Rhodey. He had to keep it together.

He just had to.

As he made his way through the darkened foyer, his eyes snapped to the world outside his Tower, grayed by the enormous front doors. It looked like an October storm brewing, the wind rippling through half-skeletal trees, leaves rising in pretty swirls. But there was not a soul outside, either. Usually, he had a few dozen reporters, admirers, people who protested the Avengers and half-worshiped them...but no one stood before the Tower doors today. Not even to heckle him. He stared, mouth dry, and hands shaking, shoved against the door, half-expecting it to be locked...but it opened, and the cold air washed over him, raising the hair at the back of his neck and making his stomach roll.

The first step outside felt almost like a betrayal; his team had to be somewhere inside, had to be...but they weren't, and maybe, maybe they were out on a mission, maybe he'd just slept through the alarm, and nobody wanted to wake him...He walked across the plaza, hugging his arms around him against the chill, eyes darting all around, when the soft hiss of the drying leaves over concrete brought his attention to the ground before them. They fluttered across the cement on the breezes, browns and reds and yellows, and his head cocked, lips pursing as his eyes narrowed. They...were forming words.

Loneliness is a terrible fate, is it not? He swallowed, backing up a step, his black Chucks scrapping against the ground, and they followed, reforming themselves against the gray expanse, surrounding him.

You are alone.

"No..." He turned, began to run back home, to the Tower, to safety, and the words rose up around him, blocking his path, swirling and hovering in the air.

You have no friends...no team left.

"No!" He spun, eyes already going to one of the cars left vacant, mind whirling with a half-wrought plan, and they blocked him again, spinning all around him, brown and red and yellow hate making him want to scream...

You will always be alone, Tony.

"NO!"

"TONY!" He came awake, a bolt half-sticking to his face, and his head spun, trying to find the source of the shouting...There! Steve was pounding on the door, his face a mask of fear, with the Avengers spread out behind him. Clint was trying to figure out a way into the vents over the lab, Bruce was visibly restraining the Hulk, while Natasha and Thor were actively holding back the urge to just shatter the three-inch thick glass. Shaking, Tony dragged himself up from the bench, stumbling to the door, and he keyed in his overrides, almost sobbing with relief when the door opened and his team poured in, Steve out and out hugging him, while the others came over to ruffle his hair (Thor and Bruce), cuff his ear (Natasha), and punch his arm (Clint). He didn't even care; he just held on tight, letting the panic fade.

"Hey, you losers, I'm okay, I'm okay..."

"You are not." Steve's voice was thick and Tony just laid his head against his shoulder, eyes closing.

"...Yeah, okay, I'm not. What the hell was that?" Clint could be heard sighing across the room as he checked out the bots, playing with Dummy a little bit.

"No fuckin' clue, but we all got hit with whatever it was. Looks like a spell of some sort, timed for Halloween."

"Of course. And it preyed on all of our weaknesses..." That was a surprisingly shaken Tasha, and he pulled away from Cap for a moment, watching her. She was pale, paler than usual, and her green eyes were shuttered. "I called Strange."

"...I'll forgive you for that, you look like hell. Okay, so...what can we do?"

Just wait. The words flickered to life over every single one of his hologram screens, and Tony felt the chill run up his spine.

"...oh, fuck."