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Since Snapping and dying, Tony has learned three things about the afterlife:
One— it’s nothing like the movies.
Two— Honestly, at this point, he can’t even remember number two. His mind is becoming numb with boredom day-to-day, itching to tinker, to do anything to get his mind off what happened.
Three— the afterlife really, really sucks.
A lot of the time, people assume the afterlife is peaceful. A lot of white and gold nothingness. Tony will quickly tell you, it’s the opposite of peace. So far, his experience has been hell.
Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably where he is. No matter how hard he tried, he never could clean the “Merchant of Death” from his name nor the blood from his hands.
Plus, the entire place is orange—so maybe the fire in the description wasn’t literal?
Back to the shitty afterlife that Tony hates with everything in him.
See, the thing is, Tony doesn’t get to check in on his family whenever he wants. He doesn’t get to ghost around and make things fall off shelves. He gets moments, tiny moments, where they’re connected—mostly with something the person relates to him, like Pepper and the arc reactor or Rhodey and any sweet thing related to Tony’s nicknames for him. Moments where Tony can hear their words and thoughts, and unfortunately feels their emotions.
Specifically, right now, his oldest daughter’s, as she sits on the dock by the lake. The pain she feels absolutely wrecks Tony, drowning in the emotion with no way out unless either Y/n's emotion changes or she leaves.
"Hey, Dad," Tony hears, the words reverberating around him and showing themselves to be spoken. “I know you can’t really, um, hear me, and it’s not even like this one spot is related to you. I mean, for me it is, but for the universe?
"…Anyways, I just wanted to ask… why’d you do it? There were so many other people on that battlefield, people far more equipped to survive than a baseline human in a hunk of metal, why not them?”
Tony considers. There were people who could have survived, but for one, Tony was the only one with the opportunity. He was also the only one to process what needed to be done. And even if others had had both of those, he doesn’t know who would have done it. Carol? Probably, without a second thought. Steve? …Probably not, actually. Only if Bucky’s life was immediately on the line.
But Y/n continues. “Logically, I know what happened. Logically, there was no other way. Logically, you were the only one with both the opportunity and the means—nanotech forming an impromptu gauntlet—but you’ve always told me that the world isn’t run on logic alone.”
She chokes out a bitter laugh that physically wrenches Tony’s heart. “I guess that was a lie, too.” Well, ouch. “Like the promise you made that you wouldn’t die, that this would finally start being different. That life like it’s supposed to be would finally become the norm. What else was a lie, huh? That you love me? That you wanted me? If that was the most fucking important thing you ever told me, what other bullshit did you manage to pull over me?”
Tony wants to respond, but has no way to. Wants to reach out, pull you into an embrace, comfort you and stop the pain that threatens to overwhelm your entire being. Wants to say, “I’m sorry,” and, “None of it was a lie,” and, most importantly, “I love you.”
You’re silent for a moment, before sighing. “Sorry. I know… I know you did this for me and Morgan. So we could grow up safe. But… is it really worth it? Sure, we grow up, but I had to grow up fast because of your superhero side gig. Now that you’re dead, Morgan will have to do the same. She’ll be in the public eye again.
“And I get it… it’s not fair to blame you. But I just have all this… pent up anger and just this overwhelming sense of loss and sadness and I just don’t know how to get through it. It’s easiest to take it out on you, you know? I mean, before, you always let me and comforted me, and now, you’re dead, you can’t really speak up for yourself.”
As Y/n chokes out a wet laugh, sniffling and wiping her nose, ignoring the mascara tracks running down her face, Tony curses the afterlife he’s stuck in with everything in him. “Look at me. Y/n Stark. The world thinks I’m indestructible. And all it took was a fucking rock collection and a snap and I’m reduced to a mental mess who talks to herself—or rather, a dead guy with no proximity—at the edge of a fucking dock. Is this really what you wanted, when you snapped?”
No, Tony thinks sadly, eyes suddenly downcast, but he can’t say it. Y/n pauses for a moment, voice dropping to a whisper. “…And would it really have been so bad if you hadn’t and Thanos had?”
The words hit Tony square in the chest, strangling him and causing him to gasp for breath. Had he really messed up that bad, that his daughter would prefer dying to her current reality?
Not for the first time, Tony wishes someone else had snapped. Wishes he hadn’t died. Wishes he could be with his family, finally whole once he got Peter back. Wishes he could hold his wife and daughters. Wishes Pepper didn’t have to mourn. Wishes Morgan wasn’t confused, not realizing that her daddy wouldn’t be coming back after five years. Wishes Peter didn’t feel so guilty about something he had nothing to do with anyway.
Wishes that, in order to save his oldest daughter, he hadn’t had to break her.