He did what he had to... right?

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A/N

Ironstrange prompt #2, Tuesday.
Grief

It's short, I know but.. I like this one, I think it turned out relatively well.

Summary: The snap 3.0, but ironstrange.

Stephen holds up a single finger. It was the only way.

 

The water rushes at him and he struggles to keep it at bay, away from his struggling allies, just long enough for Tony.

 

Tony. The man he just got back and was about to lose again. A deep sadness fills his chest and he swallows, redoubling his efforts; widening his stance.

 

The noises of the battle surround him, he can feel the life energy around him, small little lights winking out. He can hear screaming, the sounds of things going into flesh or clanging into alien metal.

 

He can smell the gore. The metallic scent of blood, the sickly sweet stench of burning flesh. The putrid taste of death was in his tongue, smoke filled his lungs with each breath. Each pant a difficulty as the magic took its toll.

 

Stephen could hear Thanos speaking, distantly. He wondered what was happening.

 

To take his mind off the magic, he mutters a small spell to increase his hearing just slightly, to hear Thanos.

 

"I, am, inevitable."

 

Except when he snapped, nothing happened. The gauntlet was devoid of color or glowing mysterium. There was no nerve bending shift in reality, no evil force or intention filled his consciousness.

 

So Tony did it then. He'd acquired the stones.

 

Stephen, tired of struggling with the water, built a stone wall around it and turned toward Tony. His face paled once he saw Tony lift his hand.

 

He knew this would happen. This future was doomed to happen. Stephen thought he'd gotten over the future grief while in the soul stone, but seeing what he'd foreseen all those years ago play out before him. Well, it was practically his undoing.

 

"And I, am, Iron Man."

 

Then with a loud crack from the gauntlet, the world shifted. Things were righted. Thanos' ugly fucking face shifted into dull acceptance. He knew what was coming.

 

Slowly, he fades away, into a million ashes. Along with the rest of the Chitauri.

 

Stephen immediately raced towards Tony, falling down in front of him. His shuddering hands reached up and cupped Tony's lifeless face. His dull eyes shifted but stared into nothing.

 

Why did it have to end like this. Stephen's face contorts into pain, tears falling down his face. When Peter ran over and started begging Tony to stay, Stephen finally let out a quiet sob and pulled Tony into a final hug. He could hear his stuttering heartbeat and the absolute power thrumming through his veins, eating him alive from the inside.

 

"Tony. I love you so much. Remember that," He murmurs into the man's ear, sniffling softly.

 

"L've you t'," Was the last things he heard from Tony. His heart stopped. The energy fizzed out. Tony's body collapsed.

 

Stephen quickly caught him and held him tight, crying into the dead man's shoulder, not caring about who saw, because fuck them.

 

____

 

It was two weeks later when the funeral was held.

 

He stood a few rows back, watching them carry his casket, place it in the ground. He swallows thickly. He already cried all his tears. Morgan has more of a right than him. Of course she does. She was his daughter, he thinks bitterly. But he'll still take care of her, watch over her.

 

The hands behind his back were clasped tightly, to keep a grip on himself and his shaking hands.

 

Later that night, closing his eyes, he whispered to himself as if it were a mantra:

 

It was the only way.

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