New MCU Novella: Chapter Eight (PG-13) (Final Chapter!)

Summary:

After Thanos defeats the Avengers, Tony Stark’s spirit is broken. He falls.

But then he finds a reason to rise again — and become the man his family needs.

--*--

Or: Snapshots of Tony’s life in the first year after the Snap.

(In case you missed them: Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four //

Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven)

(All introductory notes, meanwhile, can be found in Chapter One.)

--*--

Chapter Eight

It was all Tony could do to conceal his unease when he opened his door one sunny morning in late February and found Natasha Romanov waiting on his porch.

“Natalie,” he said simply.

“Stark,” was Nat’s equally simple reply.

Presently, they both stood at the end of the dock looking out at the glittering lake. The snow cover was thin and dirty, and the remaining trees were dry, black claws reaching up to graze the crystal-blue sky. On a whim, Tony grabbed a rock and winged it off the dock to test the ice cover. When the rock landed, the ice popped, but held. 

Might be good for skating, Tony thought. I should suggest that to Pepper when she comes back. If she’s up for it. He winced and rubbed at his bare hands. Always the absent-minded professor, he’d forgotten his gloves again, and his skin was already chapping in the bitter wind.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking, Tony?” Nat asked, shattering the peace.

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I was thinking about Pepper.”

“And my question?”

Tony remained studiously quiet.

“The world still needs heroes.”

“Yeah, I know that. I read the news feeds too.” Daily, FRIDAY collated the most important items for Tony to review with his breakfast. More wars. Food riots. Political upheaval. Continuing concerns about the climate. No country was left completely unscathed. Even in Washington, the hastily-cobbled-together federal government was still locking horns over how best to respond. 

Yes: Tony kept tabs on all of it. “And contrary to popular belief,” he continued, his voice tight and defensive, “I’m not just sitting up here on my ass doing nothing. As a matter of fact, before you rang, I was talking to my guys in R&D about an organic 3D printer we’ve got in development to address some of the shortages.”

Nat sighed. “I’m not suggesting you aren’t helping. I know you are, in your own way. But the team — it’s a symbol. Something we all could use, especially now. I’ve got good people — and, oddly, a space raccoon with a gun fetish. But it’d be nice to have one more familiar face to call on in the reserves just in case —”

“ — there’s another scary monster in the closet,” Tony finished. “I get it. What I don’t get is why you want” — an old, worn-out failure like — “me.” Christ, he was pushing fifty. He could feel it every time he woke up in the morning. Indeed, as far as he could tell, his left arm and shoulder were rapidly becoming lost causes. On frigid days like this, it was impossible to button his shirt or tie his shoes without pain.    

“You’re the closest thing I have to a little brother —”

Tony cut her off with a harrumph. “I have at least fourteen years on you, moya malen'kaya ubijtza.”

“In experience?” Tony cracked a wry grin. Okay, Nat had him there. “My point is, I love you. And I’ve missed you. We all have.” A beat. “Without you, no one complains when someone leaves their crusty dishes in the sink.” At that, Tony laughed once, a short bark. Then he felt Nat rest a gentle hand on his jacket sleeve. “We’re better when we’re together. All of us. We always have been.”

Tony sniffled. His nose was running from the cold, obviously. Yes, that was it. It certainly wasn’t just because of feelings. He picked up another stone, tossed it, and watched it tumble across the ice as he tried to collect himself. 

Was he tempted? He’d be lying if he denied it. Iron Man was a powerful drug. It was worse than the booze actually — or anything else he abused his body with back when he was young and irresponsible and trying to escape.

When the silence at last became unbearable, Tony turned and shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” And the hell of it was, he really was. Taking in Nat’s suspiciously glassy eyes and reddening nose, he knew he loved her too. But he also knew this had to be his answer. Above all the other reasons that swirled around in his head, his wife and daughter depended on him now — depended on him to stay alive and whole and here.  

“I told Pep I wouldn’t leave her again,” he said. “For once, I’d like to keep my promise.”

--*--

“Seems fair to me, Stark. If a father can be there for his ducklin’, he should be.”

Tony deleted and rewrote a line of code, chewing his lip.

“But ya feel like you’re lettin’ your old teammates down? Is that the trouble?”

Looking up at the display that floated beside his right eye, Tony blew out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah.”

“And how do ya know that’s what they’re thinkin’?”

“I can see it in the way they look at me. Especially Rogers.”

Nolan massaged the stubble on his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, let’s prod at that a bit. The news reports weren’t big on the details, but I get the feelin’ you and Rogers didn’t always get along, yeah?”

“Matter and antimatter.”

“What drives that, ya think?”

“Well, let’s see,” Tony began, acid dripping from his tongue. “Maybe it’s because he’s an actual World War II legend.” And I’m just an asshole in a suit of armor playing pretend. “Or maybe it’s because he’s not a screw-up with decades of headlines in the tabloids to prove it. Maybe it’s because he never drinks or loses his temper or makes dumbass decisions that destroy entire cities.” He threw up his hands. “Take your pick.”

“Sounds like you’re describing a myth, not a man.”

“He’s Captain America,” Tony retorted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world — because it was. He’d heard it his entire life. Captain America wouldn’t cry over a skinned knee. Captain America wouldn’t mouth off at his parents or run away from boarding school or get caught making out with an older classmate behind a 7-11. And Captain America certainly wouldn’t smoke a bag of weed and then wrap a brand new convertible around a telephone pole. No: those were things an embarrassment like Tony Stark would do.

Captain America would abandon you, though. So there’s that.

“The serum amped up his physiology, Stark. It didn’t rewire his soul. Pretty sure he’s just a fella inside — like you.” Nolan grinned. “And truth is, ya have no earthly idea what he got up to back in the day. Soldiers ain’t exactly renowned for their clean livin’.”

Tony glowered. He was pretty fucking sure Rogers wasn’t the sort of GI who needed the VD lecture — and he said so.

“Just consider the possibility. Adjust your dish a little. At the moment, that funny picture you’ve got in your head is makin’ ya feel judged and resentful. And that makes ya feel like holdin’ on to whatever it is that happened between the two of ya in the first place just so you can poke holes in that supposedly perfect image.” Nolan’s video feed wobbled slightly as he adjusted his phone. “If, on the other hand, you accept that Rogers wasn’t immaculately conceived and is therefore capable of goofin’, it might help ya t’ level with the guy — and maybe even forgive.” 

Nolan picked up a coffee mug and took a long gulp. “And while you’re at it,” he added when he’d finished swallowing, “don’t go on readin’ people’s minds. Cuz maybe they ain’t thinkin’ you’re somehow lesser. Maybe they just have a little trouble understandin’ ya sometimes. And maybe right now, like that young lady told ya, they just miss havin’ ya around.”

After Nolan closed the connection, Tony sat for a long while in the gloom.

“Hey, FRIDAY, you up?”

“Always, Boss.”

“Open up an email to Okoye. I think I need some vibranium polish.”

“Of course. Shall I add anything else?”

“No, I think just the usual greetings will be fine. Thank you, dear.”

Tony took off the helmet he’d been wearing and set it in front of him. Rocked back in his chair once. Twice. Tapped his pen on the table. Thought.

Then, knees popping, Tony rose to his feet and walked back to the rear of the garage — and a locker he hadn’t touched in years. Punching in the code and opening the door, he pulled out the object contained within. Ran his hand over its marred surface. Tried to ignore the ache that blossomed in his chest — and the memory of the day a hero broke his heart. 

Maybe this was something Tony could let go. In time. Perhaps. And maybe then, he could make Cap’s shield shine once again. 

--*--

Morgan was apparently a night owl — just like her daddy. So when Tony finally stumbled into the bedroom at his usual late hour and tipped face-first into his pillow, Pepper was still awake, counting every tumble and kick.

Tony curled up, bunching the sheets under his chest, and then turned his head slightly to peer at Pepper with one worried brown eye. “You okay, honey?” he asked, his voice muffled by the bedclothes.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Your daughter’s just decided to be a busy bee tonight.”

Tony pushed himself up onto his elbow, then lay his cheek on the rise of Pepper’s stomach. “Hey, little miss,” he murmured. “It’s bedtime. Go to sleep or I’m putting you up for adoption.” Morgan kicked again, and Tony jumped. “Oh, I see how it is. Better be careful, young lady. That won’t be cute forever.”

Pepper smiled, caressing the back of Tony’s head. Over the past few months, Tony had spent every one of his evenings talking to Morgan, and the change that came over him each time - the way he would soften and allow himself to be vulnerable - touched her so deeply she didn’t quite know how to process what she felt. 

She’d always known, of course, that her husband’s capacity for love far exceeded most people’s expectations. What she hadn’t predicted was for Tony to surpass even her own. He was always there to rub her aching back — or to massage her cramping feet. He was always there to relocate her hip whenever it popped slightly out of socket — or to make a quick run to the kitchen to grab something she craved. 

And the effort he’d been putting into the nursery?

“Tony — you have paint in your hair.”

Tony sat upright — then bolted for the bathroom. By the time he returned, Pepper was wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes.

Grumpily, Tony climbed back into the bed. “Sure. My kid just kicked me in the face, and now my own wife is making fun of me. I’m being tag-teamed in my own home.” He pulled three-quarters of the quilt over to his side and turned his back to Pepper.    

“Tony.”

Tony humphed.

Pepper reached over and tousled Tony’s now damp locks. “I love you.” And she meant that — more than she ever had. “Even if you are a blanket stealer.”

A decorative pillow sailed in her direction.

--*--

Spring came late to the lake. The ground outside remained frozen well into April, so the kitchen and the living room soon filled with vegetable seedlings Tony had coaxed into sprouting indoors. 

For an engineer and mechanic who’d spent the entirety of his life fiddling with the inanimate, horticulture was a curious change in occupation. Still, Tony threw himself into it with his typical gusto, downloading sunlight, pH, moisture, and nutrient requirements for each plant and then building delicate webs of tiny probes to monitor each critical variable.

To be sure, his little family was hardly starving. And Tony expected that, eventually, the supply chains would stabilize as the world adjusted to the new normal. But Tony was still a futurist. Though he was coming to understand his own fundamental frailty in the face of a universe that was truly terrible and vast, he was still himself. He was still going to try to peer beyond the forks in the road to see where each turn led. He was still going to try to prepare for what may come. He’d retreated from one very public stage, but he still believed in progress, and he was still determined to make it happen — even if he was acting now in spheres more private and more intimate. 

Maybe Tony couldn’t master it all — but he would never stand by, a helpless spectator. Serenity was simply not in his genome.

Hence, on the morning he could finally slam his shovel into the dirt and not meet an impenetrable barrier, Tony quickly got to work on tilling his small field and installing the drip irrigation system he’d designed. The harsh, almost snowless winter had rendered the soil bone dry and brittle — but that, for Tony, was just another chance to exercise his intellect.

By late afternoon, Tony had exhausted the trail mix and energy bars he’d stored in his jacket pocket, and he decided to go in for a proper meal. His knees and shoulder aching, he tramped into the kitchen and immediately hugged Pepper, who was stirring a pot of beef soup on the stove. Merrily, he nibbled at her neck.

“No.” Pepper pushed Tony’s arms down and away. “Not until you wash your hands at least.”

Tony looked down at his blackened fingernails — then headed right for the sink, peeling off his half-finger gloves and depositing them on the counter. “Smells delicious, Pep,” he said as he turned on the faucet and reached for the scrub brush.

“It should be ready in ten minutes or — ow.”

Tony dropped the soap dispenser, his heart missing a beat. “Honey?”

Pepper was now leaning over the island, grimacing, one hand on her back. “It’s just a contraction,” she finally managed. “I’ve been having them all day.”

“How many minutes apart?” Tony had learned to ask that question after a few false alarms.

“Every fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Tony sucked in a deep breath to quell the encroaching panic. They were fine. It wasn’t an emergency. He hurried through the rest of his ablutions and walked Pepper over to the couch. “Just rest,” he ordered. “I think I can handle dinner from here.”

And handle it he did. The evening passed with Tony waiting on Pepper hand and foot. In fact, because Pepper was clearly uncomfortable, Tony tried the best he could to stay up for her even after midnight chimed. Unfortunately, the effects of the day’s labors soon overtook him, and he fell unwillingly into a restless sleep.

--*--

After moonset, Pepper shook Tony awake.

“Tony, I think it’s time. They’ve been five minutes apart for the past hour or so.”

“We’re having a baby?”

“We’re having a baby.” Tony rolled out of the bed — then sprang back up, his hair and eyes wild. If Pepper weren’t doubled over in pain, she would’ve laughed. But right now, she needed her husband calm and focused. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

Tony did. “Okay. Okay. Okay,” he repeated like a prayer, commencing a one-man Keystone Cop routine as he scrambled to find his shirt and his shoes.

Pepper, of course, was already dressed and ready to go. “If you put your shoes in the same place every time you take them off,” she remarked archly after a contraction eased, “you won’t have so much trouble finding them later.” 

“Not helping,” Tony gritted as he tied his laces in a sloppy bow. Then he jumped up again and started rifling through the closet. “Shit! Where’s the bag?”

“By the door, remember?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Tony swallowed with a click, took Pepper by the shoulders, and kissed her on the bridge of her nose. “Let’s go meet our daughter.

--*-- 

Tony cried — and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Pepper, exhausted, had conked out not long after the baby was wrapped in a receiving blanket and placed in her arms, so Tony was holding Morgan now, tears slowly dripping into his beard.

Morgan was a pink, wrinkly little raisin, her head slightly deformed from the trauma of the birth — but damn it, she was amazing, and Tony wanted to scream that from the rooftops. Nothing he had ever built - nothing he had ever done - could possibly compare to his little girl. 

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling. 

Morgan looked up at him then with bright, searching eyes. And suddenly - impossibly - Tony felt the weight of the eight month sobriety chip in his left breast pocket. It had been an absolute shitfest of a year. But this? This right here made the struggle worth it.

For you, he thought as he watched the rise and fall of Morgan’s tiny chest. It was all for you.

The End