Avengers Fic: The Long Fall Back to Earth (1/1)
Title: The Long Fall Back to Earth
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.
A/N: Happy birthday to moogsthewriter. She deserves much more than this, but this is what I have to offer. Based loosely on her prompt: “and as the world comes to an end / I'll be here to hold your hand / 'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart“ from the song Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men. Beta provided by postfallen.
Summary: The thing is, Tony’s not really a hero.
-o-
The thing is, Tony's not really a hero. Sure, he'll play the part of a superhero, but really he just likes the super part. The whole hero schtick -- well, it's not all that interesting. It's noble and brave and all that, but if Tony knows anything, it's that noble and brave are the best traits of the dead.
Tony doesn't want to die. He's come too close too many times to be a martyr for anyone's cause. He's not Bruce Banner, trying to make amends. He's not Clint Barton or Natasha Romanov, doing their jobs. He's not Thor, who has a personal stake in this. And he's sure as hell not Steve Rogers, donning the red, white, and blue like it actually matters.
Part of this is a power trip. He's the one who can do this after all. He's in a group of super heroes, but none of them are super like he is.
It has to be him.
Tony goes up with the worst of motivations.
But when the nuke explodes, when the mothership destructs, Tony starts to realize maybe he was wrong.
Yes, this is his job. But it's not just because he's super.
It's because he's a hero.
He has as much to prove as Bruce; he accepts this task like Clint and Natasha. He has something to lose in all this, and she didn't even answer her phone. And he's laying himself down on a grenade just like Mr. Red-White-and-Blue himself.
When the power in his suit gives way, he catches, and for a moment, he's suspended.
In that moment, he hates it. He hates it. He hates that he let this happen; that he let himself become this. He hates that he never got to see Pepper again, that he never got to say goodbye. He hates that he didn't have a better plan, that he didn't think of a better exit strategy.
But he doesn't hate it enough to regret it.
And then he's falling, weightless and hard, slipping back through space with a velocity he can't control. The lights are dimming; his strength is fading. There's nothing left.
Just the long fall back to earth.
Just a hard impact with reality.
He thinks of Bruce and of Clint and Natasha. He thinks of Thor, and he thinks of Steve. He thinks of Nick Fury and Coulsen and everyone else on that damn boat. He thinks of Pepper.
And it's okay.
This time, it's really okay. Because this time Tony doesn't feel so super, but he's never felt more heroic in his life.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.
A/N: Happy birthday to moogsthewriter. She deserves much more than this, but this is what I have to offer. Based loosely on her prompt: “and as the world comes to an end / I'll be here to hold your hand / 'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart“ from the song Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men. Beta provided by postfallen.
Summary: The thing is, Tony’s not really a hero.
-o-
The thing is, Tony's not really a hero. Sure, he'll play the part of a superhero, but really he just likes the super part. The whole hero schtick -- well, it's not all that interesting. It's noble and brave and all that, but if Tony knows anything, it's that noble and brave are the best traits of the dead.
Tony doesn't want to die. He's come too close too many times to be a martyr for anyone's cause. He's not Bruce Banner, trying to make amends. He's not Clint Barton or Natasha Romanov, doing their jobs. He's not Thor, who has a personal stake in this. And he's sure as hell not Steve Rogers, donning the red, white, and blue like it actually matters.
Part of this is a power trip. He's the one who can do this after all. He's in a group of super heroes, but none of them are super like he is.
It has to be him.
Tony goes up with the worst of motivations.
But when the nuke explodes, when the mothership destructs, Tony starts to realize maybe he was wrong.
Yes, this is his job. But it's not just because he's super.
It's because he's a hero.
He has as much to prove as Bruce; he accepts this task like Clint and Natasha. He has something to lose in all this, and she didn't even answer her phone. And he's laying himself down on a grenade just like Mr. Red-White-and-Blue himself.
When the power in his suit gives way, he catches, and for a moment, he's suspended.
In that moment, he hates it. He hates it. He hates that he let this happen; that he let himself become this. He hates that he never got to see Pepper again, that he never got to say goodbye. He hates that he didn't have a better plan, that he didn't think of a better exit strategy.
But he doesn't hate it enough to regret it.
And then he's falling, weightless and hard, slipping back through space with a velocity he can't control. The lights are dimming; his strength is fading. There's nothing left.
Just the long fall back to earth.
Just a hard impact with reality.
He thinks of Bruce and of Clint and Natasha. He thinks of Thor, and he thinks of Steve. He thinks of Nick Fury and Coulsen and everyone else on that damn boat. He thinks of Pepper.
And it's okay.
This time, it's really okay. Because this time Tony doesn't feel so super, but he's never felt more heroic in his life.