As Tony found himself hurtling towards that great gaping hole in the sky, only five things crossed his mind. A significantly lower number than what he was used to, normally his 'absolute genius' would process 10 to 20 thoughts at once. But at that moment, with a nuke in his armoured hands, Tony Stark only thought about five things. The first was obvious.
He was going to die. Jarvis had solemnly informed him of his chance of survival, and he knew, he knew, that he wouldn't make it back. Later on, he would look back, and thank the heavens that he had.
The second was that Fury had better fucking rip the councils head off for this. He wasn't angry that he would die. He'd always told himself he would go down in history. He wanted to go out with a bang, something to be remembered with. Of course, he'd be remembered. He would go down in history- he's Tony fucking Stark, he's up there with Tesla. But even with his arrogance, and his nonchalant behaviour, Tony stands by his words. And really, if this isn't a 'bang' then he didn't know what was.
He is a Philanthropist.
Someone who helps people. Of course, he hadn't always been, but Afghanistan changed him. It left him with memories he knew he would never be able to erase. And so it shouldn't come as a surprise that he couldn't fathom how a council that supposedly stood for the good of mankind would willing fire a nuclear missile at a City with millions of people in it.
The third thought was about Pepper.
"Sir, would you like me to call Miss Potts?" Jarvis asked. For some reason, despite the fact that Jarvis is completely and entirely artificial, Tony knew he wasn't hearing things. He knew Jarvis sounded just the slightest bit saddened. He didn't know why.
"Yeah."
The call went through, and as he neared the portal, and he stared at the photo of Pepper, he felt something he couldn't remember ever experiencing before.
Was it…regret?
Were those…tears in his eyes?
The ringing continued as his fourth thought occurred- questioning himself if it was indeed regret.
And the fifth thought, the one that occurred to him last, was something that shook him to his core. Dana.
It may have been that Tony had all but forgotten, it may have been that Tony had thought of her last, or it may have been that Tony had only just realised that his daughter was most likely watching the news right now, and she was watching with her breath caught in her throat. Tony Stark was about to save the world, he'd be one of the most celebrated men in the history books. He'd be a hero. And she didn't even know he was her father.
She didn't even know because Tony Stark didn't care enough to bother to tell her.
Not until now. And funnily enough, sadly enough, he'd never get another chance.
It was cold, freezing, and he was floating. Just…floating. The stars were so bright, and there was no pressure. It was all easy and free. Actually, there was so much pressure, so much crushing weight, that his body simply chose to tell him that he was numb. But Tony knew. Tony always knows. He's Tony Stark.
There was no air for his desperate lungs to breathe, and so he didn't bother to even try. He just watched with glassy eyes, as the nuke that almost destroyed New York glided into the ship that the Chitauri spawned from with frightening speed.
He'd always thought that a rocket would move faster in space. Not slowly and softly.
That's the lack of oxygen talking, he told himself. Your brain is shutting down, he told himself.
You are dying, he told himself.
And he was at peace. He knew that there was no point in holding grudges, he knew that there was no point in being sad. No regrets. And now, it's too late to regret.
And then he was falling again.
Well, he thought he was. Maybe not. Lack of oxygen and all. And just as things began to get hazy, a bright, a blinding light burst from the ship, and in the back of his mind, Tony registered that the nuke had hit.
Not even an alien, godly army would survive that. No Chitauri would walk away.
Fly. Whatever.
He let a smile ghost his face, and maybe then he should have been guilty. He'd heard the Widows' saying about 'red in her ledge' and Tony knew without a doubt that it was so much worse for him. Natasha may have done some bad things.
Hospital, orphanages. Innocent people.
But Tony? Worse. So, so much worse.
He'd created the weapons that had fuelled a war, religious, land, civil. Stark weaponry was responsible for more than a million deaths. Weapons that he had planned, had constructed, had approved for mass-production. Weapons that could do so much more than just kill. That traumatized, stole loved ones, tortured.
Tony Stark had almost directly killed more than a million people. Effected even more than that, and even if he had been lied to, it was still his creation.
And despite what people would think, Tony Stark cared.
And even though he was trying to right things, help people as Iron Man, Tony Stark knew that no amount of good-deeds, death defying feats and charity would ever wipe that amount of red from his saturated ledger. Not while he lived on.
But he wasn't going to think about that right now.
Because in a minute, he would be dead, but the world would be safe.
Even if it took his death, his ledger would finally be dropped.
And he could rest in peace.
The Hulk had other ideas, he just didn't know it yet. So in that moment, when he closed his eyes, he felt peace like he had never known existed. And it was a beautiful moment.
So he stopped thinking, and let go.
So, this is the prologue to 'Dear Dana', which will appear as a separate Fanfiction. Tell me what you think, people, tell me what you think. I'd like to think that I managed to convay the feelings, or lack-there-of that Tony experienced in his 'final' moment. Critique is welcome, and all that jazz.
Also, If you have any suggestions for a pairing for Dana, let me know. I know I haven't told you about Dana, but she'll be seventeen and living in Nevada. She'll be very...creative, and I suppose you could say she is a delinquent of sorts. OC pairing is welcome, but you need to provide me with a profile for the person and such.
Thankies : p
-TC