A\N This is unedited and unbetaed at the moment, but I intend to go through and fix the mistake. If find any mistakes please let me know
A\N #2 Also this takes place at the end of the Avengers when Tony is carrying the missile into space. ENJOY!
Tony Stark. The face behind the mask. The name behind the Iron Man icon. The "hero" the "saver of ."
So many people knew his name, knew his face, and yet...he was going to die. He was going to die today, and he couldn't think of a single soul that would care. Sure, the world would mourn...for a day or two, but in 5,10,15 years? What would he be then? Just a name in the middle of some dusty old cemetary, with no one to brush the leaves off of his 't that all anybody is in the end? Just a name.
But hey, so is the life of a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.
Tony shifted his grip on the warm metal held above him, daring a glance behind him.
His heart falling, at the sight of the blue portal shrinking, then disapearing with a fizzle, any hope he had vanishing with it.
He shook his head, tightening his grip on the metal deathtrap, giving it one last shove into space before it exploded.
Red flames and, shrapnel tearing across the ever black sky as he began to fall. Plummeting through space towards a non-exsistent destination. He can feel the flames, getting closer, and closer, hotter, and hotter, as they are forced towards him. He closes his eyes letting the flames from the imploding missile engulf him. Getting hotter, the steel of his suit begining to crackle. His own creation turning against him. He leaned his head back, stretching out his arms he sighed, letting the screams of the burning Chitauri lull him to sleep. Permanent sleep.
15 years later.
Crisp leaves crunched under his blue boots, the Autumn wind biting his cheeks, not a wholly unwelcome feeling. His red gloved hand, clutching the flowers at his side. Forget me nots, being his floral of choice. Simple flowers, boring flowers, but they were still his favourite nonetheless. He othe grey stones passing him bye in a blur. Some had intricate engravings, or flower bouquets. Others had a mixture of both. He walked past them all with hardly a glance at any of them, not stopping until he was standing in front of a plain grey stone, nestled between two others. He ran chilled fingers over the sleek rounded edges, brushing off the leaves with a rustle. There were many names, in this cemetery. So, many people loved and lost, so many people who lived and died, were remembered or forgotten. There was name amongst the names. A name that was important, a name that belonged to a legacy. He traced a finger over the letters inscripted on the grey granite. Anthony E. Stark. It's been fifteen years. Fifteen years and the name still brought tears too his eyes. The years had taken a toll on him. On everyone. His sandy blonde hair was dusted with grey, small creases edged the corners of his icy, blue eyes. He had changed just as much on the inside as he had on the outside. His heart had hardened to the world that was not his own, but he was obligated to save. The Steve Rogers he once was is gone. In his place stood the man in the blue suit forever dubbed "Captain America." He hadn't known Tony very long. Just long enough to get caught up on the whirlwind of "mechanical genius" and "Stark snark." Just long enough for Tony to make a lasting impression on his heart. In a way Tony reminded him of Bucky. They were both the type of men who embraced the world with open arms taking whatever the universe threw at them with open arms, and their chins held high. Steve reached up a hand and wiped the tears that were trickling down his cheeks. He hadn't realized he'd been crying. He tried holding back the tears for awhile, resulting only in choked sobs, and broken hiccups. Then he gave in. Resting his head in his hands he let himself cry. Hunched over, shoulders shaking he cryed. He cryed for Tony, and Bucky, and Peggy. He cryed for all the names in the graveyard, and for the sorry specimen of a man he had become. He cryed until he was out of tears. He wasn't sure how long he had been there. Hours maybe minutes, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wiped his teary, snotty face with the back of his sleeve. Standing up he set the flowers in front of the grave. Setting a hand on the headstone with sigh, he whispered "Put on the suit, put on the suit, Stark and let's go." He waited another moment, before wiping the tears once more, spinning on his heels he walked away head hung low, hands burried in his pockets.. The End