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“Is life after death real?” Tony asked.
It took a few moments for the words to compute and Stephen blinked as he looked up from his book. “What?”
“Life after death. You seem like the type of person that would know about stuff life that.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow at that. “I do?”
Tony shrugged. “You were the one who taught me that souls were real. Before you I was absolutely adamant that they weren’t. Plus, you’ve died before. Like… a lot.” He winced at the words and Stephen could see that Tony was hoping that hadn’t come off as insensitive.
Stephen wasn’t overly offended. It wasn’t like Tony was wrong.
“My deaths during both of my time loops hardly counted since there was little to no time between them and starting over,” Stephen pointed out. “And the time that Thanos killed all of us was different, we were only sort of dead, contained by the soul stone.”
Tony made a face at that. “So you’re saying that you don’t know?”
Stephen considered that. “Not for sure,” he acknowledged. “There are spells that allow you to talk to someone who has passed on. Though they’re not encouraged. But the fact that you can ‘summon’—“ it wasn’t quite the right word, but it worked for this explanation, ”—a ‘ghost’ it would stand to reason that they must have still been in some realm of existence.”
Tony hummed thoughtfully at that, brows furrowed.
“Why?” Stephen asked, curiosity tugging at him. “You’re not normally philosophical about this sort of thing.”
Tony shrugged. “I’m not exactly philosophical,” he defended, as though that was some sort of slight. But then to Tony, just maybe it was. “I just… I wonder, sometimes, you know. Sometimes… well, sometimes things feel so unfinished. Questions, you know?”
Stephen did. “What exactly are you thinking about?” Stephen asked, sure that there was something.
Tony watched him for a moment, clearly deciding whether this was a vulnerability that he was willing to show Stephen.
Stephen waited patiently. He knew that Tony had shown him more vulnerabilities than he allowed most people to see, but that was no guarantee that he would this time.
“I just… I wonder, sometimes, if I’ve wasted my life.”
Stephen raised an eyebrow at that. “Wasted your life? You? Do you recall working to save half of the universe?”
Tony shrugged. “Sure, but…” He frowned, as though trying to put together the right words. “I’m not sure that was what Yinsen meant.”
Stephen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Yinsen. He was with me in Afghanistan. He… He saved me. And he… the last thing he told me was to not waste my life. Me. Not Iron Man.”
Stephen considered that. “What do you think he meant, then?”
Tony was quiet for a moment. “He once told me that I was a man with everything and nothing.” There was something in Tony’s eyes, a slow, heavy grief. “I still have everything… I just… sometimes I wonder if I’m any less empty than I was before.” Tony looked away, shaking his head as though annoyed with himself. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s human,” Stephen contradicted. He reached out, taking Tony’s hand. “And, for what it’s worth, while I won’t claim I’m everything, I hope I count for something.” He met Tony’s eyes. “You have me.” Tony stared at him, awe and hope and pain. Some part of Stephen ached that after all this time Tony still couldn’t bring himself to fully believe it. It wasn’t a slight against Stephen; Tony simply didn’t believe he deserved good things. “You have me.”