*Fair trigger warning. Yes, it's Pepperony, but i put it here because i'm really proud of it. i guess there might be spoilers for endgame, but only if Tony ends up dying? so no, I guess? anyways, the song above really has nothing to do with this, but it's what i listened to while writing this. so, yeah.*

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 I gave you so many reasons to leave; I opened the door, setting you free, encouraging you to embrace the freedom you'd never previously known in your time with me. But somehow, you'd always stay, no matter how many chances you were given, no matter how hard I pushed you to take that next step; to walk away from the horrible life I had been promising you.

I never understood it – how could someone willingly choose to stay with a man that was more shattered than broken glass? How could someone want to put themselves through pain, when there was always another option; an opportunity to escape the dread that haunted your life?

"Because I love you," you had told me, time and time again. "Because I would do anything for you."

Really? Did you mean it? Why would anyone want to help me, a broken shell of the man he used to be? I couldn't understand it, and perhaps I never will; but . . . did I love you back? Had I known what you felt for me, and had I felt it myself?

Yes, I did. I really, really, did. The worst part? I was too dumb to see it, too blinded by my own ego to take the action I should've.

Because yes, in reality, you had given me everything and asked nothing in return; you'd loved me even when I practically pleaded you not to, because I knew what I saw in the aftermath – I knew what was to come, had you stayed on that path, holding my hand all the way down the road I started us on.

But what happened when that road ended? You see, it was just as I'd predicted; in the end, your heart was broken, because you had gotten too attached. Was it worth it? I guess we'll never know. After all, we've lost all our chances, what more are we capable of doing? Where are you now? Where am I?

I had warned you; I had known all along that things would end this way, that we'd be separated by fate, torn apart by destiny; and what had it all cost?

It had cost you your happiness; it had stripped you of all the joy in your life; it had dwindled away the bright light of your being, the core of your existence.

As for me . . .

To know what I'd done to you, to know what I'd left behind – it was a punishment far beyond the powerful grip of death; it was a pain so unbelievably unimaginable that not even I, the one who was enduring it, could fathom such heartbreak.

For those who wonder, you still feel pain in Heaven; there's still guilt and sorrow, there's still regret and hurt that lingers in your soul, there's still pain that weighs your heart.

Although I see you, I watch over you every day of every year . . . it will never be enough. It will never be the same as touching you, as feeling your warm embrace, as feeling your heart beat as I lie next to you in the dark.

Your face haunts my memory, your voice scars my dreams. The burning I feel in my chest is because of you, because of what I did, and how it had affected you.

It will never be enough.

Knowing I lived my life with you, knowing that it was cut short and that I had not only left you, but I had left our son . . .

I'll never be able to cope with the guilt, the unspeakable pain that resides deep within my soul, the overbearing and heavy weight that has piled upon my shoulders. It drags me down; it breaks my heart to see you cry yourself to sleep every night; it destroys me to see you look into our son's eyes and see me.

Oh, how badly I want to run to you, how badly I wish to cradle you in my arms and tell you everything's going to be alright . . .

I'm sorry. I wish I could've been there, for you, and for our son.

Please don't be angry. Please tell me that you can hear me. Please tell me you'll understand. Please, just say something. Tell me you know, reassure me that you'll still love me, even when we're worlds apart. Comfort me, pray to me at night; talk to me, give me a sign, that you still care . . . please, I ask of you; I'm a weak man, as I've always been. I can't take the silence anymore; I can't ward off the pain.

Not without you.

"I miss you," you weep at night. "Please come back!"

I wish I could . . .

"Please, Tony . . . don't let me face this world alone . . ."

You're not alone, I'm right here, as close as I can be anymore . . .

"Don't leave our son without his father . . . he needs you more than he knows . . ."

"I wish I could be there, with you!" I exclaim to the white emptiness around me. "I want to be with you, with our son!"

"I see you in him, Tony. He looks more and more like you everyday . . . he's just like you; you'd love him . . . and I know he'd love you just as much. I don't want him to be alone, I don't want to raise him in a world where he lacks the comfort of a father. I want him to know you, to see you, to be with you . . . I want to be a family again . . ."

My heart breaks, it drops in my chest and sinks all the way to the floor. I want so badly to be a family too, if only you could hear me . . .

You make me regret my decision, you make me beg to go back, to rewrite our destiny, to plead with the good God above to make you happy . . . but not even he can bring me back, not even he can undo what has already been done.

"Please, Tony . . . I want you to be happy, and I know you're in a better place, but . . . I can't face this alone. I can't be alone anymore."

Your face pales as you dry your tears . . . your hair is growing grayer; your joints quake and groan as you move from the floor to the bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears continue to fall. Your face is twisted into a painful frown, your eyes closed in pain as you grip the sheets and wail into the darkness of the room.

My stomach flips upside down at the sight. This shouldn't be anything new, this has been happening every night for almost three years . . . yet, every night grows more painful than the last.

My eyes sting and water as I walk to the bedside, resting a hand gently on the side of the bed.

"My love, I'm so, so sorry."

I begin to cry. If only you could feel my presence, if only you could see I'm hurting just as much as you, even in death.

"Please, Tony! You have to come back, please . . ."

You scream into the shadows again, your lips parting as the horrid sound escapes you, releasing in spurts of air that sound as if you're choking on your own saliva. Even in the darkness, I pick up on the redness of your face, the glassy twinge in your ocean blue eyes that frees the waterfall that cascades down your face.

I step closer, silently pleading that I could just magically reappear, so that you may see me again, even if just for a moment. I'm right here, baby. I'm right here . . .

I'm still crying, but my tears turn to air as they hit the toned, brown carpet. My skin tingles and begins to burn; it's a familiar feeling.

"I'm so sorry," I say to you.

I wish you could hear me. I wish you could see me.

You turn on your side, tossing the pillows aside as you face directly towards me, your eyes glancing straight past me and to the wall.

"Please, Anthony . . ."

I close my eyes; I want to leave, but I can't . . . I'm trapped, I'm frozen still. The sadness in my veins glues me to the ground. I'm not leaving, not now, not ever. I don't ever want to leave you. I don't want you to feel so alone.

My eyes open again at the sound of sudden silence.

You sniffle, wiping your face with the flannel sleeve of your purple pajamas – they're the ones I got you all those years ago, and up until my death you'd never worn them. Now though, it seemed as though you'd dragged out everything I'd ever gotten you.

"I know why you did it – really, I do," she starts, her eyes still locked in my direction. "I wouldn't want you to change it . . . you did a great thing, you saved so many people. I just . . . I just w-wish the price hadn't been so high."

Me too, I want to say, but the words are trapped in my mind. Another tear falls.

"I'm not alone, you know. The entire world mourns you. You've left a legacy, Tony. You'll never be forgotten You're a hero across the universe."

My eyes suddenly meet the ground. I don't like being called a hero; I sure don't feel like one . . . not after this. I don't deserve the title; I don't want to believe all the great things I've done. So many people have idolized me, and I'll never know why; who would look up to a man who had deserted his pregnant wife; to a person who'd lived in his own grief for decades; to a person who'd never learnt to become anything more than a man in a can?

"Peter, he talks about you all of the time, you know. He lives on for you, he does everything he can to make you proud. He's made it clear how much he misses you. He feels indebted to you, Tony. He wants so desperately to thank you, to tell you to your face how grateful he is for everything you've done for him, and for his world."

Again, I find myself draw to a blank as my eyes remain stuck to the floor. Peter . . . another person I'd left in the dust.

Oh kid, I'm so incredibly sorry. I let you down, and now I'm not even there to apologize for it.

"I know how you'll feel though, even now, Tony," you say suddenly, taking me by surprise. My head snaps up to meet your eyes, but you're still looking far beyond my presence.

I'm confused, it seems as though you're talking right to me, although I know that's not possible.

"I know you probably regret it all. You probably don't see all that you've done, and I could never even begin to explain it to you . . . you'd have to be here to witness it all – to see the statues with your name plastered on them, to see all the speeches people have given, to see everyone who gathers on your birthday to place flowers on your grave . . ."

Miraculously, a small grin escapes me. Maybe it's because it's the first time I've seen you smile genuinely in years.

"You did a great thing, Tony, and you'll forever have everyone's respect for that. I j-just . . . it just . . ." you take a deep breath as you struggle to continue. It's clear that the same haunting thoughts have crossed your mind again – the images of Rhodey knocking solemnly on the door, only to tell you that I didn't make it. I know how much it destroyed you, because I was there. I was in the room the day the news was broken to you; we had cried the same amount that night; me by your side as you sobbed relentlessly all night long.

The smile falls from your face, at just the same time as mine does. "It's been really difficult for me to cope with your passing, is all," you conclude.

A shiver dances across my skin and snakes down my spine. Please, don't be upset anymore . . . for my sake, please just try your best to be happy without me . . .

You bury your face in the pillows, pull the duvet tight over your shoulders as you cry again, your cries muffled by the plush of the pillows.

I sit on the bed this time, getting as close to your shivering frame as I possibly can. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, choking over the words. "I don't know why this had to be the way things turned out. And I can't fix it, as much as I want to . . . I can't, not unless I kill billions of people again."

You continue in a fit anyways, as I know you can't hear me; I don't know why I've stayed so long. You can't hear me, so what's the point?

I can't bring myself to leave you, I answer my own question. Not again.

I reach out to touch you but fall short. I know you can't feel me, and I can't feel you. Another burden of death, another thing that's there to keep us so close yet so far away.

I curse the onus of my demise, the helplessness that it's placed in my body. My sinking heart drops even lower, my lungs feel tight and constricted. There's nothing I can do.

Suddenly, there's a noise in the hallway.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You snap over in an instant, suddenly alert as you click on the tableside lamp.

I peer over my shoulder to find a tiny silhouette just barley illuminated by the faint light of the lamp.

"Mommy, I had a nightmare."

You snatch a tissue from the table, and wipe away your tears – once, twice, repeat. You sniffle away the rest of them as the boy comes closer. His hair his dark brown and his eyes are a similar chestnut; he has the same, short face that you do, yet the same arched back and broad shoulders that I have. Although it was difficult to decipher in the dark, his skin appeared the same peachy-olive as my own.

I back away, suddenly fear-stricken and chilled to the bone.

The boy climbs upon the king-sized bed, as if it was a natural nighttime routine. He pulls the covers back and snuggles next to his mother. "Morgan, what are you doing up this late again?"

"I'm sorry Mommy, I had another bad dream."

"Another one?"

"Yeah, it was scary . . . I had a dream that there was a monsters in my closet and they cames to get me."

You crack a soft smile.

I remain still, just the same as I always do when my son enters the room. The same thought crosses my mind every time: that's my son. That's MY son . . .

He's a spitting image of me, you're right about that.

"Mommy, why are you crying again?"

Your face turns upright in a surprised frown, and you're temporarily at a loss for words. You hadn't expected the question, that much was clear. "Oh honey, Mommy's just missing your Daddy, that's all."

He gazes into your eyes with his own confused ones, the light from the lamp causing his chestnut orbs to twinkle in the dark, painting an image of innocence across his tiny face.

His head tilts to the side. "Mama, you're always so sad when you talk about Daddy."

You can no longer hide the oncoming tears, and they start yet another cascade down your aging face. "I-I know honey, I know." You trip over your own words, and pull our son into a tight embrace, pushing your hands through his tousled hair. He caves into your arms, playing with his hands in his lap as you wrap yourself tightly around his small frame. It's evident he's still confused and doesn't know why his mother is always in tears, and yet, I can tell that he's worried for you; he doesn't understand your grief, but he knows it's there.

Your tears fall upon his head, and he squirms. "Mama, you're getting my hair wet."

You giggle, the noise sounding more like a strangled, choking laugh as it's mixed with tears and saliva.

You take his face in your hands, caressing his cheek with your thumbs. He crookedly smiles against your palms, reflecting the same loving gaze that you have mirrored on your face.

"Your daddy would love you so much," you whisper, but he hears you.

"Really? How do you know?"

Another smile spreads across your face, but it's a sad smile, one that's fueled by the powerful emotion of heartbreak. "Because," you start. "You're just like him."

"What was he like?"

You hesitate, and I step closer, my ears interested in what you have to say.

"He was a great man, Morgan. He did amazing things, and he fought all the bad guys."

"I want to fight all the bad guys when I get older!"

You laugh. "I'm sure your father would've loved to see that. You two would've been quite the team." You pause, smiling at your beautiful boy. "But most importantly, Morgan. He did what was right, and he didn't let anything hold him back. He knew what his heart wanted, even if his head didn't really understand it at the time. He always, ALWAYS, did the right thing, even when it costed more than you could ever imagine. And you always remember that, Morgan. Always do what your heart tells you, no matter what stands in your way. Promise?"

The boy looked into his mother's eyes again, and he kissed her lightly on the lips. "I promise."

You hug him again and pull him under the covers with you as the light clicks back off. Your arms pull him close to your chest, wrapping protectively around his tiny body. "I love you, Morgan, I love you so much."

"I love you more, Mommy."

"That's not possible," you whisper as you close your eyes lightly, trying once again to allow sleep to fall upon you.

A tear falls down my face again, but this time, for once in a really long while, it's not a sad tear – it's a tear of joy.

I pace over to the other side of the bed and lie down next to the both of you. The silence the dark emits is calming, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the closest thing possible to happiness.

"You're right, Pepper," I respond. "Because no one could ever love anything, or anyone, as much as I love the two of you."

With that, I gently close my eyes, and listen to the even breathing of the two people that meant more than the universe to me.