Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm sorry..."

That was the last thing Tony heard. Saw. The kid, his kid, Peter. Pete whimpering out his name like the saddest goodbye Tony's ever heard. Apologizing to him aging. It was a bad habit of the kids. He was sorry… Lord knows why though. Tony was the one that was sorry. Sorry for everything. For having a death wish. For being a martyr. For being the hero when he'd rather have been still here.

He wanted to keep watching Peter become everything he knew he was capable of becoming. He wanted to see Morgan grow up. Take her to her first school dance, her first science fair, to prom, walk her down the aisle. He wanted to see Peter graduate MIT and give him a proper job at Stark industries. Like he deserved. Hell, he wanted to be there when he gave him Stark Industries. 

He wanted to dance with him at Morgan's wedding. Wanted to at least tell him how much he cares. But he didn't have enough time. Doesn't have enough time. Never has enough time. Why is there never enough time? 

Everything was black for a while. Nothingness. He wasn't in pain anymore, he didn't feel… anything, actually. No more throbbing muscles, no more burning flesh, no more knives in his head or arm or chest. It was kind of nice. Being numb for once. He just sort of felt like he was floating. Like when you close your eyes and float inside a pool. 

Except perhaps it was more like rapids. Or maybe more like sinking. Perhaps this is what a ship feels like as it slowly goes under? Heavy, weightless, waterlogged, but at peace. No more fighting the storms. He didn't feel any fear. More like an oxymoron of a relaxing shipwreck… 

Tony never was one for sailing, but perhaps that's why he wrecked his ship. He never learned how to sail it properly. Was never given the chance- no, no! He only has himself to blame. It's not his father's fault, Tony knew better. Always knew better. He's a genius, after all. He knew he wasted years of his life.

Hell, he feels like he didn't even really start living until he became Iron Man. Until he started helping instead of hurting. Until that first domino fell that led him on this spiral of events that led him here.

Wherever here is. 

He did the best he could… no. That's another lie. He only started really trying after he met Peter. No. He only put his all in when it was for Peter. God, he didn't even really try for Pep when he thought hard on it. He did put a lot of effort into saving the world though. To try and make up for the sins he committed every time he breathed.

He's sorry. He's so sorry to all of them. Every single soul that was hurt by him. In whatever proximity. He's sorry to all his friends. His family. To Pep. To Morgan. To Rhodey. To Peter. To his father. To himself… He wants to try harder to stop hurting others. No. He wants to forgive. Forgive everyone that's hurt him so he stops hurting others. To forgive himself for being at the top of that list. He- 

The black abyss gave way to pure light. Blinding, stark, nothingness. Like the previous vast blackness. This light was so pure and opaque it felt like it engulfed him more than the darkness did. He wanted to shy away from it, but embrace it. Turn from it, yet let it devour him. He wanted to close his eyes and hide and hope it never ended. Were his eyes still closed? He can't tell. He doesn't even feel like he has eyes anymore actually. He's just a constant thinking consciousness. 

"Isn't that what all life is though? ... Where are these thoughts coming from? Am I thinking them? Am I talking? Is this a narration or is it me? Am I an I or am I a we? Us? … An everything? A fragment of star dust among the sea of-" 

Blinding white transcends into a cosmic disarray of a chaotic color spectrum of light fractures. Prisms of colors he's never even seen before fly across him. Through him. Around him. In every direction possible. Perhaps even in ways impossible. Up, down, back and forth. Sideways and byways. Every degree of an angle imaginable and then some. There is no straightforward or backwards. There is no time. Yet every spear of light seems to be coming from a different time source. A different light year. A different galaxy. A different universe entirely.  

Needless to say, this was the worst high Tony's ever been on. 

The next thing Tony saw when he opened his eyes was himself. Laying against - whatever the hell it was he was laying against. Blood and dirt and soot covering him head to toe. His suit was trashed and powered down. That's odd. The snap must have caused an unimaginable power surge to be strong enough for his suit to shit the bed. All in all, he looked awful. Honestly. Like the worst pre-makeover candidate in the history of reality television. 

It didn't seem strange or more appropriately, it wasn't even a thought in Tony's mind as to why he was standing over his own body. Why he could see himself and the whole aftermath of the mess that he just went through. Why he was standing at all considering he knew that he was in fact laying, dying on the hard ground littered with debris. The whole ordeal was only seconds ago. Yet it feels like decades have gone by in his mind.

Then all at once it hits him.

Surrounded by his beautiful friends, his found family. Crying. Watering this dust bowl of a wasteland they were kneeling on. He saw Peter crawling towards him and he smiled; opening his arms wide waiting for the kid's embrace. Waiting to knead his hand through those loose brown curls and wipe his tears away, tell him it's all over now. He was okay after all, he survived and Peter was safe now too. 

But Peter didn't match his embrace, he didn't run to him. Well not to him, the standing Tony with his arms wide open and a smile that could stop traffic. No, he crawled and toppled over the Tony that was laying on the dirty ground. He was crying, apologizing, it felt like crippling deja vu. That's when he comes to the realization:

"Shit. I'm fuckin' dead, aren't I? I'm actually dead..."