His last night with Pepper and Morgan is bittersweet.
He paces the cabin - a home, he realizes, which is something he didn’t really have at one point - for a long while. Tony can’t help but marvel at this little piece of heaven they’ve created for themselves.
And then, for a moment, he feels guilty. That, he thinks, is why he has to do this. Because there are people who are still living in the After of their tragedy, who are looking and looking and can’t seem to find healing, because there’s nothing left for them.
He quietly slips into Morgan’s room and closes his eyes for a moment. Part of him wonders if he shouldn’t just turn around and leave, if maybe that would hurt less than this does.
Morgan is - well, she’s everything. She’s juice pops on summer nights and an endless river of curiosity. She is an early riser and a troublemaker with a penchant for sass, just like her father, with a ferocity that comes straight from her mother. She is happiness personified, and she looks at Tony with a faith he doesn’t deserve.
He sits for a long moment and simply watches her sleep. He watches the way her hair falls into her face and how her chest rises and falls, a sign of life. She is peaceful and relaxed and so, so innocent and God, he just wants to put this moment in a bottle. He wants to wrap his arms around her, like he’s done so many times before, and keep her there forever.
Tony looks at her, and all he feels is contentment.
There is a concept, in thermodynamics, called entropy. It is the universe’s tendency towards disorder. For as long as it takes to clean a messy room, it can become trashed again in mere seconds.
He is gripped, suddenly, with the fear that everything he has so painstakingly put into place these past five years will fall apart far beyond what he can fix. Peace, he knows, is not natural, and he’s gotten far too used to this taste of it.
Tony swallows thickly, overcome with emotion. It squeezes his throat tightly for a second, and he wonders if he’ll ever get a moment like this again. Desperation fills every cell in his body, and he leans forward to gently press a kiss to her forehead.
Tony’s never put much belief into God, but in this moment, he can’t help but pray. It tears itself from his chest, and he looks up at the ceiling, a single tear tracing down his cheek. He thinks of Pepper and Morgan. Thinks that, even if he dies and, by some miracle, gets a shot at Heaven, it’ll never compare to time spent with them.
God, please… just please let this work. I’ll do anything.
He opens his eyes and takes in Morgan’s face for one last moment. He inhales.
“I love you, baby,” he whispers in one breath. He knows she can’t hear it, but he hopes she knows. He hopes that no matter what happens, she’ll always be confident in that one fact.
And that is the gift and tragedy of being a father: he loves her more than anything, but that won’t always be enough.
tangentwithtanner
titsay
2087
