+1
"Stark, that's a one way trip," Steve stated solemnly, his voice nearly breaking. His words were laced with No, Tony, you won't make it, it's too much, goddamn you're only human-
Tony knew, he went over the math one hundred times in his head, he knew-
(Probability of getting out of New York before missile hits: 46%. Probability of the population of Manhattan being obliviated: 99.68% (.3% of the bomb missing, .02% of the bomb being a dud). Probability of Manhattan surviving if he flew the bomb into the wormhole, effectively destroying both threats: 99.98%. Probability of Tony living through it: less than .01%. Even if Tony wasn't Tony fucking Stark the genius he would have known the best way to go.)
There was so much light than infinite black and the stars, (oh god, those stars) and for one fleeting moment it was gorgeous. The silence and the space than the explosion, if that wasn't beauty at his finest, than Tony Stark was wrong, and he never was. Then the heat, and the overwhelming relief, and the softest of smiles came over his features. He was the only person to see this ever, and everyone was going to live except him, but that was okay. It was always okay. And then nothing.
Absolutely nothing but the darkness and calm acceptance.
