IT WAS RAINING when they laid her to rest. 

The skies had been overcast for several days now, and they finally spilled their tears, weeping for the loss of a most unexpected hero. The rain splattered against windows, houses, and doors, protecting the people within them. 

But in New York, at a small, private cemetery in the middle of nowhere, there was no protection from the rain. Only a handful of black umbrellas were held up to the sky to ward off the uncontrollable tears of the heavens. Even so, the guests standing in the grassy plain couldn't keep their feet from getting wet from the constant drizzle. 

Near the front of the group, closest to the burial site, stood Tony Stark. His hands were in his pockets, curled into fists, though no one could see them. His shoulders were tense as he stared at the dark-wooded casket being lowered into the ground in a plot he'd never thought he'd have to buy. He didn't bother holding up an umbrella, keeping the rain off his clothes and his face. It was cooling on his hot skin, clearing his troubled mind. 

It helped hide the stray tears that fell down his cheeks, too. 

Tony hardly ever cried. He hadn't cried, not really, since his mother died. He didn't like it when other people saw him fall apart, become so emotional. In the last few weeks, he'd only reserved that honor for one person. And they were burying her that day. 

His hair was nearly soaked, matting to his forehead in places. He didn't care, though. He didn't care that he probably looked a mess, that his clothes would be deemed unwearable after that day. None of his belongings were as important as that one person had been to him. 

Bowing his head, Tony tore his eyes from the scene before him. He couldn't bear to see her, though he knew she would appear in his head again that night, as she had every night since she'd died. At first, all he could see was her bloodied corpse as it lay on the snowy terrain in Sweden, her eyes closed and her mouth still open, as if she were simply sleeping. He always focused on the knife that was lodged in her chest, never able to stop himself from looking at it. 

He couldn't stop waking up in fits, cold sweat running down his body. He'd been sleeping horribly—or rather, not sleeping at all. 

As he stared at the grass beneath his shoes, he closed his eyes. Sure enough, she was there again. Right behind his eyelids, waiting for him. But this time, as she had been for a few nights now, she wasn't a gore-filled cadaver. She was alive, dressed in white linen that cascaded down her frame in an elegant manner that could only be real in dreams. Her smile was wide, her eyes filled with love, and she stretched out an arm.

Tony, she seemed to say. Tony, I'm here. It's okay.

But it wasn't okay, it would never be okay. 

A hand on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts and Tony looked up, sniffing once before turning his head to look at who'd distracted him. Rhodey stood beside him, his brown eyes staring deeply into his own. 

"Tony," he prompted gently. "It's time."

He swiveled his head to look back as the casket, staring at the place where here head would be, her eyes closed in a dreamless sleep called death. Her hair would be laid flat against the pillow, her arms clasped in front of her, the perfect picture of peace. 

He felt anything but peace as he nodded, taking a few steps in the rain to the muddied pile of soil, picking up a handful and gently letting it fall from his hands, beginning to fill the grave. He felt like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Not in front of these people, not where anyone would hear. Those words that he wanted to say, they were only for two people to hear.

Following his lead, the four other people who'd shown up solemnly picked up dirt and began tossing it lightly on the casket. First it was Happy Hogan, who mumbled a couple parting words to the woman he'd only known for a short time a few years ago. Next it was Cade, who'd shown up out of support, having known Asset 53 during his short time with Cerberus. He hadn't known the person she was, but he felt the need to come nonetheless. Tony didn't stop him. 

Then it was Anne Boucher, the woman who'd done everything she could to save her, trying to keep her awake long enough to save her soul and mind. She wiped a lone tear from her cheek, turning away and walking back to where she stood, away from the rest of the small group. 

Finally, Rhodey picked up a handful of dirt and followed suit, looking down sadly at the grave. He lifted his head and found Tony's eyes, reached out a hand to grasp onto his arm. 

At the contact, Tony let his life-long friend pull him into a tight embrace, squeezing him so hard that for a second, he didn't feel the gutting pain in his chest as the casket was finally lowered down into the ground. It returned in a wave as he let go, though, nearly crushing him and bringing him to his knees. "Rhodey," he choked on his words, unable to hide the emotion in his voice. "Rhodey, I did this. I killed her."

Carefully, Rhodey led him from the rest of the meager funeral party and stopped once they were out of earshot. His usually stern eyes were soft with pain, his hands still holding Tony's shoulders, keeping him steady on his feet. "It was the only way, Tony," he said gently. "She knew what she was asking, and you gave her exactly what she wanted. You gave her the release from this world she was looking for. You saved her."

Tony shook his head. "It always sounds better coming out of your mouth. But you know that's not true. It was an accident. I just...I got too close to her and I didn't mean to, I just couldn't see the knife, and all of a sudden it was in her, and she was..." he shook his head. "She would never have gotten into their hands if I'd just put everything to rest with Cap, if I'd stayed with her and figured this all out." He dropped his head to his chest and sniffed once again, staving off tears. "I should never have left her."

"It's not your fault," Rhodey insisted. "She was brought into this mess centuries ago, before Iron Man could have saved her from her future. This was her choice, Tony. You gave that to her, and you honored it."

The sentiment was nice, but Tony wasn't sure he would ever believe it. He'd never be able to rid his mind of the utter and complete hopelessness that plagued her final moments, carrying her away from him. 

He searched his friend's eyes for an answer to his pain, but found nothing. His face crumpled, but he fought off the tears. His vision blurred for a moment, the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. If he let them, he wasn't sure they would ever stop. 

Unable to think about it any longer, Tony lifted his head and tried to straighten out his features, give himself the essence of calm. When he turned around to face the four other guests, he found five staring back at him. 

The blond-streaked hair, the thick beard, the hunched shoulders on a too-big body that used to be frighteningly thin, it all clicked in Tony's head. He didn't have to see the man's eyes to know that they would be a clear blue. 

He was too shocked to walk away from him. When Steve slowly met him in the grass, he couldn't look away, the shock becoming almost too much. "Hey, Tony."

"Mind telling me why you showed up to gloat?" Despite his shock, his words kept their usual bite. 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "Gloat? Tony, I—"

"Please," Tony scoffed, "you want to check up on me. To see how I'm faring after finally understanding what it is to have someone they know get their mind torn apart by terrorists. You want me to apologize, to tell you that I understand what you went through with Barnes." He crossed his arms and turned away, unable to look at him. 

He thought he'd forgiven Steve, that he'd reached a point where he could see his perspective, his struggle to sign the Sokovia Accords and let his best friend be locked up forever. He thought he'd be able to be civil again, but something about Steve showing up unannounced had left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Steve shook his head. "I didn't come here to gloat. I just...I wanted to offer support." He paused, sighing. "I know what this feels like, Tony."

"No, you don't," Tony spat. "Barnes didn't die."

"I thought he had. For almost a hundred years, I thought he was gone."

"I don't need the play-by-play, Rogers," he rolled his eyes. "You got him back. You didn't really lose him." His voice got soft. "Not like I lost her."

Steve shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Maybe she'll come back to you."

Tony whirled around, furious. "She died in my fucking arms, Steve, do you really want to say that meta bullshit to me?" He held out his arms for a picture. "She took her last goddamn breaths in my arms, and she was half out of her mind. She hardly remembered her name before she was gone." He felt the tears welling up in his eyes again, so he turned away. 

"I didn't mean to make you angry," Steve said softly. "I just...fuck. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, Tony. Truly."

Tony didn't watch him leave, only listed to his fading footsteps and let the gentle rain wash away his anger. He didn't have time to let his fury boil over. 

The service had ended, so the guests were leaving. The only people who remained were the workers who would finish filling the grave, closing her off from him for the rest of time. He waited until they were done with it all, waiting until she was completely covered, her headstone was in place, and everyone was gone. It must have been an hour or more, but he didn't mind. He didn't have anyone waiting up for him at home. 

He stood at the foot of her grave, staring at her headstone. 

Jacqueline "Jack" Kingston
b. -- -- 
d. february 23, 2019

"I..." he started, suddenly unsure of what to say. "I don't hate you. Sometimes I wish I did. I wish I'd never found you, never stumbled upon you in that bar that night. If I hadn't, none of this would have happened. Maybe you'd still be alive.

"But," he continued, "you'd never have known what human life was like. You'd never have felt like a true person again, and I can only hope that what little sensation of humanity I gave you was enough. I hope that I didn't leave you wishing for more." He looked down. "I hope you don't hate me."

Tony shuffled his feet in the grass. "I'm not very good at this stuff, you know. Saying goodbye, I mean. I'm usually shit at speaking in general." He chuckled humorlessly. "If there's anything I wish I was good at, I'd wish it was being able to trust myself enough to know when I love someone." His eyes drifted back to the headstone and he smiled sadly in the rain. "I did love you, Jack—do. I still love you. And I think you loved me. I think you knew that, when you said my name."

He shook his head. "Maybe I'm just going crazy. But I need you to know, whether you can hear me or not. I've had several brushes with death, but I still know nothing about it. Either way, I'll tell you this one more time: I love you. I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I do, I love you. And I have to believe that you loved me, too, in the end."

The slow drizzle faded away, the clouds parting to reveal the pale sunlight. He was still wet, still feeling the weight of his emotions, but he savored the gentle warmth that enveloped his limbs. 

Swallowing roughly, Tony turned his face to the soft sunlight, and finally let the tears fall. 

———

the end

||

oh my gosh i'm sobbing.

this story is over. it's complete. i don't even know what to say except for a giant giant thank you to all of my fantastic, sweet, kind readers that vote and comment on my chapters, supporting my writing.

listen: this story wouldn't be what it is without you guys, and i mean that whole-heartedly. i never thought i would truly finish this story because of my mental health issues and other factors, but i pushed myself to get back on the wagon and do what i love. thank you to everyone, i'm sending you a virtual hug.

that's all for now. sending much love.

june 29, 2020