Okay so I was watching Third Star with Benedict Cumberbatch, and it was amazing (I highly recommend it), and here popped in an idea! So I took the element of the main character with a terminal illness and related it to the Avengers :D

I wanted this to be really angsty, but I don't know how it turned out. Let me know!

Okay so I don't really know much about terminal illnesses and stuff of the like so I kinda just did my thing.

Disregarding Iron Man 3 here.

Warning: contains swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers.

Churches in Warzones

It started off as a simple fever.

He was pale and gaunt with sweat clinging to his skin, making it sheen and clear that he was feverish. But it wasn't something out of the ordinary, and the fever was gone in two days.

Then one day, while having a friendly bout of roughhousing with his teammates, he collapsed.

Which is what brought Tony Stark to the hospital, sitting in the doctor's office with his head bowed down and Pepper and Bruce standing by his sides.

He recalled a faint buzzing sound in his ear, and he wasn't really paying attention, but he caught the phrases he needed to and that was all he needed to know before he shut himself out completely.

Fatal. Cancer. Inoperable. Two months. Incurable. Terminal.

Bruce sighed, heavily and tiredly, glancing at Pepper beside him when he noticed that her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and her hands were clenched around the back of Tony's chair so tightly that he thought it might break.

Then he looked at Tony, who he expected to have some kind of emotion flittering through his features when he realized that no, he didn't, he was as emotionless as Natasha Romanoff.

But Bruce faltered in his steps when the good old bad news bearing doctor finished his explanation, and he threw a sad 'thank you' look over in his direction, but the doctor merely nodded his head wearily, as if saying sorry.

Because really, as much as anyone would not want to believe, there was no way out of this mess.

Pepper tried, Pepper tried really hard to get out of her meetings for the next week, and she spent five hours on the phone trying to negotiate a deal to reschedule, and she couldn't exactly say the reason why she had to, because keeping a billionaire's imminent death as a secret is a hell of a lot of work to do. So in the end, she had to board a plane to Washington and was forced to bid farewell to Tony in a heartfelt kiss and a promise to be back as soon as possible.

But Tony simply nodded, leaning into her kiss and her touch, as if there was nothing wrong at all.

But Bruce knew better. And so did Steve and Natasha and Thor and Clint.

And they hated it, hated how the world was still turning, forever turning and will never stop turning despite it being the end of the world. Because people were still walking, the sun was still rising, the stars were still shining and Tony was still dying. And nothing, no matter how much they wanted it to, would change that.

The sun rose, and Bruce woke up to Tony tinkering in the workshop like every normal day, functioning on a lack of sleep and living on coffee when Bruce finally cracked.

"Why are you pretending like this isn't hurting you?" he asked, eye twitching and deep breathing to keep the Other Guy from appearing.

Tony stopped, his shoulders tensed and he placed his wrench on the tiles beside him. He took a long breath before finally, finally, looked at Bruce straight in the eye.

"Because pretending that it does won't make it hurt any less."

So Bruce shut up, and closed his mouth with an audible click. He wanted to say something back, he really did, but he found that his mouth couldn't articulate his words and Tony wasn't paying attention any more anyway.

So he turned around on his heels, walked swiftly out of the lab, and listened to the door swish close behind him.

"We've got to do something."

Steve's voice echoed through the silence of the common room, bouncing and reflecting off every surface.

Bruce has never felt so alone.

"He's not okay, and he's going to get the help he needs, even if he doesn't want it," he insists.

Natasha shrugs casually, her fingers tapping her chin. "If we make him get treatment, he'll be even more resentful."

Steve's eyes dart to Bruce quickly. "Hey Banner, why don't you try and convince him?"

Bruce merely shakes his head in sorrow, "I don't think you all understand," he begins, "its terminal. There is no cure. He's going to die no matter what."

"What if I bring in ailments from Asgard?" Thor pipes up, "maybe the man of iron will respond to the treatment of magic."

"It'll kill him, first of all. Our bodies aren't fit for use of magic. If it doesn't kill him it'll certainly speed up the process. And the time in Asgard varies, an hour for you there could very well possibly be a month here," Clint says, perched on the arm of the sofa. "By then it might be too late."

"How long does he have?" Steve asks, eyes trained on the doctor in front on him.

"The doctor said two months."

"Better make it the best two months of his life, then."

Bruce found out the next day that Tony had locked all of them out of his lab. No access will be granted under any circumstances. It took almost all of his restraint not to let the Other Guy shine through.

Pepper came back, and soon she was the only one allowed in the labs. The team would only see her when she'd come to the common area to grab a bite to eat.

But Pepper couldn't be around all the time, she had an international company to run, and no matter how much she didn't want to be, she was gone most of the time.

Tony found that most of his life now consisted of old cups of coffee, sometimes cold and chilled by the air, no longer hot and warm. He noticed that it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, and he felt cold, all the time, even when the heater was turned up to maximum power.

He noticed that his hands were always shaking, and he's dropped more than one coffee mug because of it. He was always tired, and he's dozed off more than once. More often than not, he woke up in a panic just to make sure that his heart was still beating and most of all, he was still breathing.

But one time, he didn't wake up.

"Dr. Banner, your assistance is required urgently in Lab 1," Jarvis' voice rings out, and Bruce swears that he can hear a hint of panic.

He sprints off to the elevator, asking Jarvis to alert the remaining Avengers right away, and skids off to Lab 1 where he finds the door has been opened, and an unconscious Tony Stark lying on the floor, shaking and contorting violently with foam spewing out of his mouth. His lifeless brown eyes stare blankly through Bruce's soul.

"Oh god…" he murmurs, "oh god what have you done?"

"Holy shit," he hears a voice splutter out from behind him.

He sees Steve, and the rest of the Avengers staring in horror at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Oh god, oh god, Tony," Bruce whispers as he witnesses Tony's body convulse on the floor.

"Help me," he whispers to his teammates behind him as his vision clouds over with tears.

So they did.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Why is everything white? Where is everybody? I don't know where I am. Someone help me. I feel like I've been ripped apart. Everything hurts.

Bruce? Pepper? Anybody?

Why won't you help me?

I need help.

The sharp beeping noise of the heart monitor clouded over the sound of Tony's breathing.

The Avengers took turns. At least, they tried to take turns. In the end, they all just ended up staying in the room, huddled close and leaning against the wall, watching, observing, waiting for any movement from Tony to show that he will wake up.

Pepper was notified of the seizure, and she was already halfway across the Atlantic when Tony was deemed stable. Now, she sits by his side, clutching his hand in her own, stroking his pale and ashen skin, waiting just like them.

Waiting. Always waiting.

Time and seconds tick, and the noise of the clock makes Bruce's head hurt, but he tries to shake it off. The sun still rises and the monitor still beeps. And they're still waiting.

Always waiting.

It's three days after The Incident, as they deemed to call it, that Tony finally wakes up.

But his teammates and Pepper are all fast asleep, tired and worn from days of limited eating and little sleep.

He smiles softly, watching the chests of the people that he loves most of all rise and fall. Slowly, gently, with hearts still beating and souls still ablaze.

He can't remember what happened, he just remembers that his hand was shaking, and there was a crash, and then black. Nothing. A dark abyss of pure nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing is going to make this okay.

Because a dark oblivion of pure nothingness is what he see lies ahead. A short future of sorrow and darkness, enveloping every fibre of his body and taking away his every being.

In the end, there will be nothing left.

Because the great Tony Stark, who beat everything and has everything, has nothing in the end.

His life, full of tales of mischief and sorrow and sadness, will always be like that. And Tony supposes that he's always known that he'd die of sadness, because he's not the type of person who deserves happiness anyway.

This, in this time and in this place, is his defining moment. Here, in this hospital bed strapped to IV's and monitors, is where he's always known he belonged.

A world without Tony Stark is a world without weakness. It makes a better world, a good world, a world in which he never deserved and that he has tainted with blood and sadness and tragedy. The blood on his hands will never fade, will never wash away, because he's always been a tragedy from the beginning.

He's always deserved a tragic death.

"Tony?" a soft voice calls out, muffled from sleepiness.

He grunts in response.

"Oh my god, guys! Guys wake up!" the male voice calls out. It's Steve.

He feels a pressure on his hand, and he turns his head to see Pepper there, smiling widely and tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Hey, Pep," he murmurs quietly.

She laughs a small laugh, and she snuggles her head into the crook of his neck. "I missed you."

He leans in, and places a soft kiss to her temple, "I missed you too."

"Don't ever do that again."

"I won't, Pep. I won't," he replies, and he knows it's not true.

The next couple of days were damage control, Nick Fury doesn't particularly like having one of his team strapped to a hospital bed.

And yet the Avengers were still there, leaning against the wall watching Tony's chest rise and fall in his slumber, because they can't seem to bring themselves to leave him.

It's the day before Tony's scheduled release that they finally have the conversation they knew was coming.

"Why'd you do it?"

Tony blinks, slightly disoriented. "Do what?"

"Why'd you lock us out?" Clint asks.

He sighs deeply, and turns away.

"God dammit, Tony! Why do you keep hiding away from us?" Steve grinds out.

"Because it hurts, okay?" Tony snaps, facing them once again with fire back in his eyes.

Bruce takes a step back. "You think it doesn't hurt us as well?

"Who watched you, when you were on the ground, unconscious and dying? Who was there when they told you that you had two months to live? It hurts all of us so much to see you going through this and it hurts even more watching you push us away!" Bruce says, eyes shining with tears.

Natasha looks away.

"We want to help…" Thor says.

Tony's lip trembles, and he fixes a fist of blankets in his grasp. "You can't help me. Nothing, nothing, is going to make this any better. Because I can feel it, I can feel the sickness spreading and eating me away, I can feel it killing me. And I hate it."

Tony bows his head to his lap, eyes shadowed over in a veil of tears. "And seeing it killing you hurts me most of all.

"I don't…" he falters, as tears begin to roll down his cheeks, "I don't want to die."

Then a sob rings out, and Tony's choking on his tears, his body shaking and trembling.

"I want more time…oh god, I want more time."

And what could they do, but watch?

They flew to Malibu the day Tony was released, as per his request.

The Malibu mansion was astounding, its bright luminous architecture cleanly complimenting the beach by the cliff. The roar of waves was powerful even in the dead of night.

Tony spent most of his time on the beach, sitting by the shore, staring at the sun, trying to drink in everything he can.

They watch him, they think he doesn't know but he does. But he doesn't mind because he doesn't like being lonely and the mansion is far too big for him and Pepper only.

He's still tired, and on the third day in Malibu he can't seem to bring himself to walk anymore. He found out the hard way when he almost fell down the stairs. Bruce was there in an instant.

He still can't sleep, and on the rare nights that he does, he dreams of oblivion, of the pure darkness that awaits him.

He will have nothing, in the end.

"Will you miss me?" he asks Natasha one day.

She looks at him in sadness, and he knows that she will.

It's a month after he was first diagnosed that Steve hears him screaming at night.

He bursts into the room, and finds Pepper there trying for the life of her, to calm him down.

Night terrors, she says.

Steve really doesn't want to know what about.

The days pass like droplets of fresh rain, and soon it's been a month and a half since he was first diagnosed.

Clint and Bruce are pushing Tony's wheelchair by the shore when a choked sob resounds through the air.

"What?" Clint asks, puzzled. "What is it?"

"I…" Tony begins, "I can't see."

The last thing he saw was the ocean.

They can feel it coming. Tony's pale most of the time, and for the past couple days he's been stuck in bed with a high fever.

He can't walk or move his legs anymore, so Steve or Thor has to carry him around when he can't use his wheelchair. His ribs are visible, and he's lost the appetite to eat. Most of them sleep on the first floor to make things easier.

Tony feels for his teammates and Pepper's hands before he goes to bed, just so he knows that they're still there. He curls up against Pepper in his sleep, holding on to her hands for dear life, afraid that if he lets go, then it's all over. The rest of the Avengers curl up against him.

His workshop gathers dust.

Tony experiences night terrors more often, so the team doesn't sleep. But they're okay with that because they'd do anything for their friend.

Friend. What a long way they've come.

He was a machine at first. Everyone thought he was, well, except Bruce. He ran on coffee and scotch and barely slept, and there were times that they didn't even think he was human. But he was the most human of them all.

He resounded pure, raw emotion in every word, because they got underneath his skin and wove their way into his heart. They hung on and they wouldn't shake off, no matter how much Tony tried to push them away. He was the most human of them all.

Because underneath his exterior of metal and wires, of pure strong iron, was a shell of a man who wanted to be loved, a man who didn't think he deserved it, but got it anyway.

Underneath it all, there was a human.

A human so strong that he made the Hulk look weak, a human so powerful that he could bend iron with his bare hands.

A human who had the worst luck.

Because the man with a backbone made of iron, was most of all, human.

They refuse to break.

They hold on to the stings of sanity, huddled together in their own little world, in their own little paradise on an island far, far away.

They don't leave, not even when SHIELD calls them into action, because they'd die first before leaving Tony behind on his own.

It's a joke, the way they roam about in the mornings, making coffee and eating breakfast together, pretending that they aren't running on a lack of sleep and ignoring hearing Tony sob in the middle of the night.

Tony doesn't go on the beach much anymore, he only stays on the first floor of the house, just to make things easier and he hates feeling helpless.

Thor carried up Dummy, You, and Butterfingers, just so they can help around the house, and Tony feels safer when his robots are around.

But he just sits there, staring into the darkness. He can't move his legs, he can't see, and he's lost mobility in his right hand. The sickness is eating him away.

When Tony is so weak that he's not able to go to the breakfast table or to sit up in bed, Thor sits beside him and tells him the tales of Asgard. He describes the sky, the rainbow bridge, the glowing, magical castle made of gold, and Tony laughs because the sight is quite beautiful.

They keep a bucket by Tony's bed (which was assembled downstairs in the living room), for when he's so ill that he can't keep his food down. He's had a fever for a few weeks now, and they know that his time is near.

Pepper still sleeps beside him, stroking and running her hands through his hair. She refuses to leave him when she's not at work, and the Avengers pretend not to hear her murmuring to Tony in the middle of the night.

They don't mention that they hear her crying, too.

Tony asked her once, why she didn't already leave him.

"Some things are worth getting your heart broken for."

"Aren't you afraid?" Bruce asks Tony one day.

"Of dying?" he replies.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, Bruce, I am."

It's nearly the two month mark when the Avengers are sitting in the living room, watching Tony lean his head against the window pane.

"I can feel you guys watching me."

The Avengers look away.

"You don't have to be sad. I'm okay. I'm alright."

"By alright, do you mean scared?" Bruce asks lightly.

"Yeah…"

"Then we're alright, too."

The power goes out that night, and candles light the darkness in the mansion.

"This reminds me of the forties, when the power would go out, and we'd have to use candles because it was the only thing we had," Steve offers.

The edges of Tony's lips quirk up, "You said 'forties,' you didn't say home."

"Home is here, with all of you."

They smile.

"You know you were right, Bruce," Tony suddenly says.

"About?"

"I'm not okay."

Bruce's shoulders slump, and he puts an arm around Tony. "There's nothing wrong with being scared."

"Did you ever think, that we'd all end up here, together, in this moment, when you were younger?" Natasha asks.

"No, I didn't. But I don't have a problem with it."

"You know we found each other, right? Like Fury said, he wanted to bring together a group of remarkable people, so they could fight the battles that they never could," Tony starts.

"But we're more than that, we're not just a group of heroes or remarkable people. We were a group of individuals who needed saving, who found each other in the darkest of times. We were the light each one of us were looking for in a dark world.

Fear isn't a weakness, it never was. We've all been scared, we're all been scarred, we've all been to battle and we've all done things that we regret and lost things that we loved, but that's okay, because we found solace in each other. We found hope.

This," he gestures to his teammates, no, his friends, "this battle we're fighting now, it's like every other one we've ever fought. It's a warzone filled with soldiers marching into battle, and even though we're scared we know it's going to be alright because we have each other. There is hope. Hope will always, always, be stronger than fear. There are churches in warzones."

And then they fall asleep, all of them clutching each other for dear life, never wanting to let go, because this is the hardest war they've ever fought and they want to be alive to see the morning light.

Today's the day. They can feel it.

Tony's having trouble forming words, he can barely sit up, and he falls asleep every couple minutes.

They can feel it.

They wonder if they'll be okay.

Curious. Curious. Curious.

They hate seeing him struggle. This once energetic, bright man is now sunken, broken…lifeless. Maybe this is for the best.

Curious. Curious. Curious.

But they don't want to let him go. Maybe they're being selfish.

Curious. Curious. Curious.

It's not bad to want things.

Tony gestures to the sea, it's hard for him to stay awake for more than a couple of minutes now. Pepper stays home today, she knows it's time too.

Thor carries Tony to the ocean, and Jarvis bids farewell.

"Goodbye, sir."

They think they hear him shut down and sleep.

Dummy, You and Butterfingers kiss Tony goodbye, as well, and they too, go to sleep.

They carry him down to the ocean and lay him down on the sand, where the waves overlap his feet. He sighs deeply, heaving, taking in his final breaths.

They all sit beside him, holding his hand, touching his shoulders, stroking his hair. Pepper gives him a final kiss and she cries silently.

Tony holds her hand in his own, and kisses her palm.

"Thank you," he says to her, even though it's hard for him to do, "for everything."

She cries, and they let her.

The sun is barely over the horizon, but they can still feel the heat of the sun.

He clenches his eyes shut, and the Avengers wait solemnly for the time to pass. Wishing, hoping, that they could freeze this moment. But they can't. The world is still turning.

Bruce lies Tony's head on his lap, Pepper and the Avengers crowd around, and the waves are still crashing against their intertwined bodies. The song of the wind is lulling him to sleep.

There are tears in Tony's eyes when he opens them again, and he smiles to his lover and his friends, and he knows that it's going to be alright.

"I love you."

He can't see them, but he knows that he's going to be alright.

So he takes his final breath, eyes shining like the gold of his armor, and the Avengers know that it's finally over.

The sickness may have been his, but the tragedy was theirs.

But he fell asleep with a smile on his face, surrounded by the people he loved most, who in turn, loved him back.

And there's no tragedy in that.

I tried, I really tried to make it angsty. I dunno, I think I'm losing my niche.

Anyway, like I said, I don't know anything about terminal illnesses so I just kinda did my own thing, so please no hate for that!

I'm in the middle of exams, so I wrote this to calm me down a bit. Four more to go!

If you liked it, please don't hesitate to tell me.

Reviews for the Angst-Ridden Soul? :)