Word #81

[crazedturkey.livejournal.com]

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Today's word is: cancer

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[feyth.livejournal.com]

Title: The Death of Tony Stark
Fandom/original: Iron Man/Avengers (AU)
Characters: Tony Stark, ???
Rating: G
Word count: 561

Tony was dying.

He knew now that he would die alone. There would be no one to hold his hand, no one to kiss his eyes and whisper words of love to him. There would be no warmth, no love. He would die alone, hollow and empty. People would care after he died, but it wouldn't be until after he was already gone.

He'd written express instructions on what was to be done with his multi-billion dollar fortune when he was gone. It would all go to charities—they weren't ones that he picked out, but he knew that they were the best—and to hospitals to help with research on curing diseases. There was no cure for what he would die from.

His share of stock in Stark International would be divided up amongst his friends. It would ensure them a safe and happy future, whether they sold right away or they saved the stock and invested in it as part of their portfolios. He wasn't actually certain that Thor had a stock portfolio, but it was a good time to start. He made sure Jarvis had the largest portion, along with one of his summer homes out in the country; after years of service, he wanted to make sure Jarvis was able to retire comfortably.

His home, his mansion, would stay with the Avengers. They would take good care of it. Maybe they'd even make a statue of Iron Man to put in the garden in the back yard. Maybe in that way, even though Tony would be gone, his memory would live forever. Then again, maybe they wouldn't; he was a bit of a dick at times, and he knew that sometimes they disliked him, even if they begrudgingly respected him for his intelligence and his money.

He looked up as the doctor stepped into the hospital room. He was a portly man of average height, salt and pepper hair a contrast to his dark skin. He stopped in front of Tony with some papers in his hands—test results. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he said, his deep voice full of regret. "The cancer has spread to the lymph nodes. There's nothing that can be done. Chemo can prolong things to an extent, but at this rate, I'd say there's a few days—maybe a week at most."

Tony closed his eyes, bowed his head. He took a deep breath, taking in the news, then reached out to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you, Doctor, for all you've done."

The doctor shook his hand and turned, making his way out, and Tony's attention moved from the other man to the hospital bed he sat next to.

He reached out and took her hand; she'd been asleep all morning, thank God—whenever she was awake, the pain was too much to bear. She was completely bald now, with IVs and tubes everywhere, an oxygen tube shoved under her nose and over her ears, but she was still the most beautiful woman that Tony had ever known.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then sat down, still holding her hand in his, and wept silently. A few days, the doctor had said, a week at the most before she would slip away from him forever, and then Tony would die because there would be no more reason to live.