Write about something you've outlived.
The fact that he doesn't remember how he got there should maybe worry him, but it doesn't. Not really, because that's not what he's thinking. Not by a long shot. He's thinking he shouldn't be here, but maybe he should. Maybe he should leave, but maybe he shouldn't.
For someone that likes to have all the answers, that alone frustrates him more than one would think.
He sits in the car for what feels like hours, just letting the engine's quiet hum keep him company as he stares out the window. There are small raindrops making slow trails as they roll down, but Tony's focus goes beyond that. He has never been one to contemplate nature, and this time it's no exception.
He doesn't know why he's here. Maybe he should leave.
He hasn't been here ever since it happened. Not to see him, anyway.
Maybe he shouldn't leave.
It's not like he owes him anything, a voice in his mind almost seethes. He didn't have to come. He doesn't have to come. He has no obligation to do so. Why should he, anyway? To thank him? To curse him?
But he's here anyway, so he steps out of the car and walks through the cemetery as his jaw clenches and unclenches at a pace that makes his head hurt worse than it had been earlier. Apparently the aspirin hadn't helped. Neither had the scotch he had downed before getting into the car and driving away.
Why is he here? He shouldn't be here. He should just get back in the car and drive away.
But he doesn't. He's here, even if he doesn't know why, and he stops at a headstone that reads the name. That damn name that haunts him and taunts him almost as much as the memory of the man himself does.
"I never thought I'd do it, you know," Tony finally says quietly. "After...everything, for a long time I thought you'd outlive us all." There's a hollow chuckle that escapes that sounds much more dry than he had expected, but he clenches his jaw to stop it. Or try to, anyway, as he finally says it out loud, "I thought you'd outlive me, anyway."
Rain rolls slowly down the headstone, some of it resting into the carved name that's on it. That goddamned name that's making something burn inside him with so much rage that the migraine feels as if it gets worse. "But that was the plan, wasn't it." His eyes glue on to the words, on Obadiah Stane, because he doesn't know what else to do.
He shouldn't have come.
"The plan was to outlive my father, and outlive me, wasn't it, but it just didn't stick. How fucking ironic, isn't it? I had a higher chance at dying, with everything because I'm the one that life the fast life, and it just never stuck. There wasn't a car fast enough to do it. Hell, not even when you had your biggest chance did it stick, and look at all this. Look, Obadiah, because I'm here and you're not."
Even with the cold breeze hitting his face, it suddenly feels like he can't breathe and after a few seconds Tony realizes that he's pacing. Pacing and pacing, round and round, but he can't catch his breath.
But suddenly he stops. Just stops, and the whole world feels as if it stops right along with him. The logical part of his brain would suggest that maybe it's because how quiet it is in the cemetery, because he's all alone in the damn place thanks to the fact that it's so late, but he's not exactly listening to logic right now.
"You were supposed to be here," he continues through gritted teeth, feeling so angry that his hands clench into tight fists as he stops his pacing, and suddenly something feels as if it just snaps as he re-reads that name. That fucking name. Obadiah Stane. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. You were going to stay. You were always here, and I thought... Fuck, Obie, you weren't supposed to..."
The flask he has been holding onto ever since he stepped out of the car goes flying towards the headstone, bouncing right off the marble as the scotch spills over, but Tony doesn't care. He's past the point of caring. "When I was in that fucking cave, I wasn't sure what to think but I never thought it was you. I never thought you would have done it, because it wasn't supposed to be you. Remember? Or was that all to get me ready? Fatten up that golden goose before you kill it, was that it? It was all business. A means to an end, huh?
"Well, this is your end," he says a bit more quietly than how he had been talking, raking his fingers through his hair that is now wet with the rain that has started to fall. "You did a half-assed job, you know. You couldn't do it. You had your chances and you didn't fucking do it, so congratulations, Obie. I ended up outliving you."
Even if he doesn't know why. Even if sometimes it feels as if the damn universe got it wrong; even if sometimes he doesn't know up from down so he has no idea why he ended up surviving, he's the one that outlived Obadiah Stane. Because once upon a time, when he had been eighteen and had crashed one of his cars, Tony had almost been willing to bet good money that Obadiah would outlive him.
Digging out one of the last cigars that had belonged to Obadiah, he lights it up and takes a long drag as he crouches down on the ground. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't know why he's here, but now that he is he just continues smoking his cigar.
"But don't worry," he says under his breath, not caring about the cold, or the rain that keeps falling. Now that the rage and the disappointment has quieted down, he mostly feels numb right now. "Just save me a spot in Hell, Obie. God knows I'll see you there."
For someone that likes to have all the answers, that alone frustrates him more than one would think.
He sits in the car for what feels like hours, just letting the engine's quiet hum keep him company as he stares out the window. There are small raindrops making slow trails as they roll down, but Tony's focus goes beyond that. He has never been one to contemplate nature, and this time it's no exception.
He doesn't know why he's here. Maybe he should leave.
He hasn't been here ever since it happened. Not to see him, anyway.
Maybe he shouldn't leave.
It's not like he owes him anything, a voice in his mind almost seethes. He didn't have to come. He doesn't have to come. He has no obligation to do so. Why should he, anyway? To thank him? To curse him?
But he's here anyway, so he steps out of the car and walks through the cemetery as his jaw clenches and unclenches at a pace that makes his head hurt worse than it had been earlier. Apparently the aspirin hadn't helped. Neither had the scotch he had downed before getting into the car and driving away.
Why is he here? He shouldn't be here. He should just get back in the car and drive away.
But he doesn't. He's here, even if he doesn't know why, and he stops at a headstone that reads the name. That damn name that haunts him and taunts him almost as much as the memory of the man himself does.
"I never thought I'd do it, you know," Tony finally says quietly. "After...everything, for a long time I thought you'd outlive us all." There's a hollow chuckle that escapes that sounds much more dry than he had expected, but he clenches his jaw to stop it. Or try to, anyway, as he finally says it out loud, "I thought you'd outlive me, anyway."
Rain rolls slowly down the headstone, some of it resting into the carved name that's on it. That goddamned name that's making something burn inside him with so much rage that the migraine feels as if it gets worse. "But that was the plan, wasn't it." His eyes glue on to the words, on Obadiah Stane, because he doesn't know what else to do.
He shouldn't have come.
"The plan was to outlive my father, and outlive me, wasn't it, but it just didn't stick. How fucking ironic, isn't it? I had a higher chance at dying, with everything because I'm the one that life the fast life, and it just never stuck. There wasn't a car fast enough to do it. Hell, not even when you had your biggest chance did it stick, and look at all this. Look, Obadiah, because I'm here and you're not."
Even with the cold breeze hitting his face, it suddenly feels like he can't breathe and after a few seconds Tony realizes that he's pacing. Pacing and pacing, round and round, but he can't catch his breath.
But suddenly he stops. Just stops, and the whole world feels as if it stops right along with him. The logical part of his brain would suggest that maybe it's because how quiet it is in the cemetery, because he's all alone in the damn place thanks to the fact that it's so late, but he's not exactly listening to logic right now.
"You were supposed to be here," he continues through gritted teeth, feeling so angry that his hands clench into tight fists as he stops his pacing, and suddenly something feels as if it just snaps as he re-reads that name. That fucking name. Obadiah Stane. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. You were going to stay. You were always here, and I thought... Fuck, Obie, you weren't supposed to..."
The flask he has been holding onto ever since he stepped out of the car goes flying towards the headstone, bouncing right off the marble as the scotch spills over, but Tony doesn't care. He's past the point of caring. "When I was in that fucking cave, I wasn't sure what to think but I never thought it was you. I never thought you would have done it, because it wasn't supposed to be you. Remember? Or was that all to get me ready? Fatten up that golden goose before you kill it, was that it? It was all business. A means to an end, huh?
"Well, this is your end," he says a bit more quietly than how he had been talking, raking his fingers through his hair that is now wet with the rain that has started to fall. "You did a half-assed job, you know. You couldn't do it. You had your chances and you didn't fucking do it, so congratulations, Obie. I ended up outliving you."
Even if he doesn't know why. Even if sometimes it feels as if the damn universe got it wrong; even if sometimes he doesn't know up from down so he has no idea why he ended up surviving, he's the one that outlived Obadiah Stane. Because once upon a time, when he had been eighteen and had crashed one of his cars, Tony had almost been willing to bet good money that Obadiah would outlive him.
Digging out one of the last cigars that had belonged to Obadiah, he lights it up and takes a long drag as he crouches down on the ground. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't know why he's here, but now that he is he just continues smoking his cigar.
"But don't worry," he says under his breath, not caring about the cold, or the rain that keeps falling. Now that the rage and the disappointment has quieted down, he mostly feels numb right now. "Just save me a spot in Hell, Obie. God knows I'll see you there."