So my friend drew this amazing picture, which you can find on her tumblr which is: xenobia4 .tumblr .com. (Just take out the spaces.) She had this amazing idea, which inspired me to write this fic. My first fic, actually, so please don't be too hard on me. If you spot a mistake, please don't hesitate to let me know so that I can fix it right away. Enjoy the story!
Tony sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he thought back over the events of the last few months. He laughed at the thought that a brain tumor was going to take out the great Tony Stark, he had always assumed it would be Loki, or Victor von Doom, or Skurge. Had thought he'd go out fighting, saving the world, and proving to Steve that he wasn't the heartless playboy he pretended to be. He had spent his whole life looking up to the Captain, had always wanted to prove to his father that he could be just as important and special as Steve Rogers had once been.
Now, however, he could only think about how the team was probably out somewhere celebrating the holiday. Maybe at Avengers HQ sitting around the fireplace, or by the tree, laughing and joking about the battles they had fought, the adventures they had had. None of them thinking about him, none of them worried that he would spend Christmas alone. That he would die alone. After all, that had been the reason he'd pushed them all away. He hadn't wanted them to feel sorry for him, to walk around with those looks of pity constantly plastered to their faces. Hadn't wanted to face their tears, their sadness. It was much easier to just push them all away, put a wall between himself and the rest of the team, and he was slightly surprised at how easy it had been to do it. He wondered how long it would take them to realize that he wasn't going to be over for Christmas dinner, to realize that he wasn't late, but dead. He wondered if they would even care at all.
He looked over at the desk in the corner of his room, checking for what seemed like the thousandth time that the letter he had written explaining everything was still there. He wanted them to know exactly what had happened to him so that they didn't jump to conclusions and assume that someone had broken in and killed him in his sleep.
Climbing into his bed, he sighed. This was it, his final few hours. He thought back over the day, making sure that he had done everything he'd wanted to. He'd worked in his lab, making sure that Bruce would have everything he needed for his research when he came in, had made a few new arrows for Barton to use for his next battle, and had even made another upgrade to the Captain America suit. It would be stronger, and stand up better to a few more enemies than the previous one had. Then he had taken a quick walk around the city before stopping for lunch at the Shawarma place down the street. He had then come home and programed Jarvis to start answering to Pepper, as she would be the next owner of his company, the one to keep the company in business for far longer than he could have ever managed. He leaned back against the headboard and took another deep breath.
"Jarvis, lights off,"
"Yes, sir," he heard as the lights dimmed and the windows darkened, keeping out the light of the city.
"And Jarvis?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Shutdown, Jarvis"
"Sir, I don't think that to be wise. "
"Contact Dr. Banner in the morning, he'll make sure you're running smoothly."
"Sir-"
"Please, Jarvis. I want to be alone for this."
"...yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."
"Goodnight, Jarvis," he whispered as the tears started to fall. He closed his eyes, wondering if it would take long, if it would hurt at all. He took one last breath, and was gone.