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 //
(All introductory notes, meanwhile, can be found
in Chapter One.)
--*--
Chapter Seven
At Pepper’s twenty-week ultrasound, they learned
they were having a little girl. Tony immediately started purchasing every
pastel pink baby thing he could find. Soon, Pepper could barely get around the
house without stumbling over boxes.
“Tony,” she sighed one day after finding yet
another bag of onesies, “Morgan’s gonna grow out of these before she’s even had
a chance to wear them all.”
So Pepper donated the extras to a local thrift
shop — and when she returned, she held her husband close. “It’s gonna be okay,”
she said, kissing Tony on the forehead. “We don’t need you to buy us the world.
We just need you.”
--*--
“I’m a little confused. Aren’t you
the one who’s supposed to be nesting?”
“Well, you know Tony. When has he ever done what
he’s” — air quote — “supposed to do?”
Across the table, Rhodey chuckled.
Even though Tony had been home for a while,
Pepper still invited Rhodey up to the cabin for lunch from time to time
whenever her husband was away on an errand — or camping out in his
garage. They were a conspiracy of sorts, the two of them — a “we love an
absolute human disaster” club that regularly conferred on the care and feeding
of said disaster over sandwiches and lemonade. And since Rhodey had known Tony
even longer than Pepper had, she’d grown to cherish his input.
“It’s really very sweet,” Pepper continued,
smiling as she rested her hand on her developing baby bump. Morgan was moving
again. She’d felt the flutters for the first time the previous night on a trip
back from the bathroom. When she woke Tony up to let him know, he actually fell
out of the bed - and bruised his elbow - in his excitement. “I know he’s
desperate to be a good daddy. But I think he’s still very anxious about the
how. It hurt to tell him he was taking things a little too far..” The poor man
looked so crestfallen.
“Well, he didn’t marry you because you always
tell him what he wants to hear,” Rhodey reminded her after swallowing a bite of
his pickle. “He can’t stand fakes who blow smoke up his ass. And he’s
encountered enough of them to spot them right off.”
“I just wish I knew how to reassure him.”
“Is he still seeing that shrink he met in
rehab?”
“Once a week at least.” When Tony was busy, he
put on his helmet to talk to Dr. Nolan on the HUD, where their conversations
could be kept private. But some days - like today - he flew all the way up to
New Hampshire in the armor.
Rhodey nodded. “You’re probably gonna have to
let Tony work things out with him.”
--*--
With a crack, the ax head bit into the log,
splintering it far off center. Tony glared at the piece of firewood as if it’d
just betrayed him, rubbed his aching left shoulder, and flexed his tingling
fingers.
“That’s still troublin’ ya, eh?”
Tony looked up in surprise. He thought he’d
concealed the old injury fairly well, pushing through the discomfort each time
he and Nolan boxed. On the other hand, the doc was pretty damned
observant.
“Got a whole parking garage thrown at me a few
years ago.” By people I thought were my friends. But then again, having
mulled over that whole shitshow quite a bit, Tony was no longer sure he’d read
some of the others correctly — and he was even less sure he
himself had handled things well at the time. Actually, he was pretty fucking
certain he hadn’t. Even if I was right about the Accords. “Hasn’t
really healed since then.”
“See an orthopod?”
“Yeah. But unless I get a replacement, all she
can do is prescribe gabapentin and send me on my way.” And the replacement
option was a no-go. Now was definitely not a good time for Tony
to have one of his arms immobilized — not while he was trying to prepare for
his daughter’s birth. And on that subject: “We felt Morgan kicking last night.”
Nolan rolled through the sudden change in topic
like a champ. “Mazel tov! How’d it feel?”
“Amazing. Surreal.” Tony blew on his hands,
wrapped them around the ax handle, and swung. This time, he hit the log dead
center, his arm once again twinging painfully on impact. “And kinda scary,” he
eventually admitted, his voice softening.
“What worries ya precisely?”
“The usual. That I’m gonna screw her up somehow.
I don’t exactly have any good guides to follow.” Tony picked up the split wood
and tossed it into the pile that had been slowly growing since the session
began. “My dad loved me — I think. But he never really showed it when I was in
the room. And half the time, he wasn’t even there.” Too busy with work — or
with looking for his Capsicle.
“Based on what you’ve told me, your Gramps was a
piece o’ work. Maybe your pops felt mixed up about parenthood too. Maybe he
didn’t quite know how t’ give ya what ya needed.”
Tony worked his jaw. “Maybe.” All he knew? He
spent most of his childhood - and early adulthood too - feeling like a prized
show horse — and not like somebody’s son. The only times Howard gave Tony anything
even remotely close to positive attention were when Tony was wowing the
shareholders or the media with something he’d built — in short, when Tony was
performing. And yeah: Tony realized, on some level, that his dad was doing his
best with what he had. But would it have killed him to hug his child
every once in a while instead of pawning that off on the help?
Tony crossed his arms against his
RT.
“Here’s what I’m thinkin’,” Nolan began,
absently scratching the skin beside his nicotine patch with his prosthesis.
(Apparently, he’d had trouble lately acquiring his prized cigars.) “I’m
thinkin’ ya might be able to’ use your own upbringin’ as a guide after all.
Just turn it around and do the opposite. Let your youngin know ya love her
everyday. Show her every chance ya get.”
Tony had already committed to doing that. But
there was also something else weighing on his mind. “Truth is —” He trailed off
for a moment — prepared another log as he gathered his thoughts. “I also don’t
know if I’m responsible enough to take this on. The last time I tried to watch
out for someone —”
“Ah. You mean that spider fella.”
Tony had never told Nolan Peter’s name. The
kid’s identity was something precious he kept tightly locked away — like the
Legos he’d stored in his basement. But Spiderman had come up in
conversation a few times before. Thus, Nolan knew roughly what had happened to
him — and how young he was when he died.
“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for
me. I’m the one who recruited him.” And let’s face it: on the long, long
list of his bad decisions, Tony knew that one ranked somewhere near the top.
Back then, he could barely manage himself. He still didn’t know
what - other than self-interest and his own damn pride - convinced him he could
handle a teenager as well.
“My understandin’ is, it was luck o’ the draw.
That Thanos dusted half the macrobiota at random. So Spiderman would’ve poofed
even if he were safe in his bedroom, yeah?”
Tony got that. But it didn’t make him feel any
better.
He channeled a sudden wave of remorse into
another swing of the ax.
“Stark, ya gotta let it go.”
“I know,” Tony spat, aggravated. “I know. I
understand the logic. Genius, remember?” He stalked over to the porch and
slumped onto the stoop, his head down, the ax dangling from his hand.
“So why ain’t it percolatin’ into your heart?”
Nolan asked, sympathetic. Then Tony felt the bigger man take a place on the
steps by his side. “I think you’re still clingin’ to the notion ya coulda fixed
it if ya done X, Y, or Z. And maybe that’s actually true. But like I keep
tellin’ ya, hindsight’s a cruel bitch. Ya have to learn from the hit and then move
on.” Nolan took hold of the ax, and Tony relinquished it without a
fight. “And you have to stop expectin’ yourself to be perfect — cuz there ain’t
nobody who can meet that standard. ‘Cept God himself, perhaps — if He’s even up
there.”
They sat, a sudden chill wind swirling the leaf
litter around their feet. Tony breathed slowly, blinking, trying to get a hold
of himself — trying to shove his grief into a containment pod as if it were a
radioactive ember.
“Hey,” Nolan said. “It’s okay.”
Tony looked up, fixing his frustratingly watery
eyes on the rime of ice that sparkled on the crests of the Presidential Range.
“I know.” This was something they always came back to. But as much as he’d
opened himself up to the doc - as much as he’d let Nolan poke around in his
twisted, dysfunctional mentalscape - there were certain lines he still had
trouble crossing.
“Just try to be realistic about it all. That’s
all I’m sayin’. Cuz every parent I know has made a few blunders here and there
— and most o’ their kids turned out alright in the end. I’m sure it’ll work out
that way for your Morgan as well. Especially since ya keep rumination’ about
it. Never heard of a bad parent who spent all o’ his time before a birth
twistin’ himself in knots about his supposed lack of preparation for the job.”
Tony laughed wetly. “God, I’m such a fucking
mess.”
“Yep. But aren’t we all?”
--*--
Tony stepped back, hands on his hips, and ran
through a few mental calculations.
It was a beautiful fir. Unlike many of the
others he’d found on his hike through the surrounding woods, this one actually
looked like a proper Christmas tree — healthy, green, its abundant needles
filling out its shape. But he also knew exactly what Pepper would tell him if
he tried to bring the entire tree into the house: that it was much too big. So
as much as it pained him to admit it, he needed to cut the damn thing about ten
feet up.
Once enclosed in his armor, Tony kicked on his
boot jets and rose until he was hovering at the proper spot. Then, his
nanoparticles rearranging themselves into the desired shape, he dove
helmet-first into the tree and began to saw at its thick trunk. His air filters
open, he was soon surrounded by the redolent smell of pine sap.
About a half hour later, his prey acquired, Tony
came back to the cabin. Leaning the tree against the exterior wall, he stomped
up the steps, kicking the mud off his boots and unwinding his scarf. “Pep?” he
called out as soon as he opened the door. “Found one!” He yanked off his gloves
with his teeth and shrugged out of his jacket, dropping everything onto the
floor in his haste. (He’d pick those up later. Probably.) “Pep?”
Tony walked into the living room — and stopped
dead in his tracks. Pepper was huddled in front of the fire, her face hidden,
her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. His mind leaping to the worst possible
conclusion, Tony vaulted clumsily over the back of the couch to rush to
Pepper’s side. “Honey? What happened? Is the baby —?”
Pepper wiped at her eyes with her hand and
patted Tony’s knee. “No, Morgan’s fine. It’s not that.”
“Is this because I broke that plate this
morning? I swear I’ll be more —”
“Tony.”
Tony shut up.
“It was supposed to be Mrs. Arbogast’s sixtieth
birthday today,” Pepper said. “You remember her, right?”
“Did she work in accounting?”
“She was my receptionist, Tony.”
“Oh.”
“She was the sweetest lady. Had nine grandkids
who just adored her.”
“Did she —?” The tear that rolled down Pepper’s
cheek told Tony everything he needed to know. Swallowing around the lump in his
throat, he wrapped his arms around Pepper and hugged her to his chest. “I’m
sorry. I wish I could bring her back for you.”
Tony ran his hand through Pepper’s ginger hair,
wishing he could bring them all back somehow. Because no matter
how many times Doc told him not to dwell, he couldn’t shake the feeling that
his own happiness was built on a graveyard — that, once again, he was profiting
off of others’ pain.
Sighing, Tony squeezed Pepper once and kissed
her crown. “Want me to make dinner?” he asked. Fixing the world was beyond his
power right now, but maybe - just maybe - he could successfully cheer up his
wife.
Sure enough, Pepper giggled into his shirt.
“Hey, I’m not completely
hopeless.”
“Uh huh. That’s why I had to throw away one of my
pots last week.”
“Miss me with the mockery, okay? I actually did
know what to do. I just — got sidetracked.”
“Just try not to set the stove on fire this
time.”
“So no spinach. Got it.” Tony hated that crap
anyway. Clambering to his feet, he led Pepper to the couch, then moved the
ottoman over so she could elevate her slightly swollen ankles. “I promise” — he
fluffed a pillow and put it behind Pepper’s head — “you’ll be amazed by my
culinary talents.” He leaned over and muffled Pepper’s affectionate tittering
with a kiss. “Back in a bit.”
Tony was well aware of his own limitations, so
he stuck to something simple. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the meal a
production in other ways. Thus, after “a bit” had elapsed, he walked back into
the living room with one of his mother’s silver serving trays. “A puréed nut spread and grape
reduction on a brioche bun,” he announced, taking a knee.
Pepper removed the cover — and laughed. “I
suppose peanut butter and jelly is something you can handle.”
“Told you.”
When Tony finally sat down on the couch beside
her, Pepper reached over and fluffed his hair. “You do realize what this means,
right?”
“What?”
“When Madam Morgan goes to school, you’re
packing her lunches.”
Tony snuggled into Pepper’s side. “Yes, dear.”
Mission accomplished.
--*--
Even before the Halving, December had always
been a difficult month for Tony. Indeed, on one December 16th many, many years
ago - before Iron Man and the Avengers, when she’d only just been hired as
Tony’s personal assistant - Pepper found her new charge unconscious in his
lavish bathroom, lying face-down in a puddle of urine and vomit. And even
though Tony donned his sunglasses and shrugged the incident off as an
accidental overindulgence when he was discharged from the hospital the
following morning, Pepper was firmly convinced his near-death was not a
coincidence — a perception confirmed in the years that followed by the number
of times she had to drop what she was doing around that date to collect a
drunken Tony from a club or bail him out of jail.
So as December 16th approached once again,
Pepper’s vigilance automatically heightened. Because while Tony seemed
happy - absorbed as he was in decorating the Christmas tree, wrapping garlands
around the banisters, and hanging stockings on the mantle - his mood could -
and frequently did - change at a moment’s notice. And if that did
happen, Pepper wanted to be there to catch Tony when he fell.
After all, Tony was bending over backwards to
give Pepper everything she needed. As a matter of fact, at times,
his hovering was just a little suffocating. Fortunately, they’d negotiated a
safe word: “Red light, Tony.”
Tony’s hands froze inches from Pepper’s grocery
bag.
“It’s just a loaf of bread and a dozen eggs. I’m
pretty sure I can handle it on my own.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Tony scratched the back of his
neck, chagrined.
Pepper set down her burden and kissed Tony on
the cheek. “I do have one favor to ask, though. I couldn’t find bananas at the
organic market downtown. Can you —?”
“Bananas. Right.” In a flash, Tony was at the
door, hopping as he pulled on his boots.
Pepper smiled. Her husband really did want to be
useful.
Unfortunately, hours later, Tony came back empty
handed.
“I tried every grocery store and market in the
county,” he growled, angrily shucking his outerwear and tossing it into a
corner. “They were all cleaned out.”
“Okay. Calm down. I can make do without.”
Tony flopped onto the couch, folded his arms,
and closed his red-rimmed eyes.
“Tony.” Pepper sat down and touched Tony’s arm.
“Can you tell me what else happened? Because I know you’re not
this upset over some silly fruit.”
Tony took a breath through his nose and released
it slowly through his teeth. “I freaked out.”
“Oh, Tony.”
“Just before I came in. I don’t even know what
triggered it, but — I lost my damn mind in the car.” Tony leaned forward, his
head dropping into his hands. Pepper started rubbing his back.
“Dr. Nolan said that might still happen
sometimes, sweetheart. It doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.”
“I know,” Tony muttered in despair. “I just — I
just wanted to give you a normal Christmas without my bullshit. Just one
Christmas without you having to worry about me.”
Pepper had assumed Tony’s overprotectiveness was
the result of his continuing jitters over his impending fatherhood. Until now,
it hadn’t occurred to her that Tony would fear ruining Christmas as well.
Pepper pulled Tony up and tilted his head
against her shoulder. “Somehow, I doubt anyone’s having a ‘normal’ Christmas
right now,” she said, stroking the rim of Tony’s ear. “And besides, I didn’t
marry you because I was expecting ‘normal.’ You, Tony, are anything but
ordinary.”
Tony chuckled sadly.
“The important thing is, you’re being open with
me now. You’re not hiding in your garage building a dozen suits of armor or
sneaking off to drown your struggles in a bottle. That’s progress — and you
should be proud of it.”
They fell silent, watching the fire flicker and
pop.
Then: “I did pick a good tree.”
“Yes, you did. Even if you did forget to check
it for squirrels.”
God, that was some misadventure! It took an hour
of shouting and flipped over furniture before they successfully chased that
thing out of the house.
As brilliant as Tony was, he was capable of some
truly outstanding failures of common sense.
“Gee, thanks for that endorsement,” Tony
grumbled over Pepper’s laughter. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t ya?”
“It’s okay, Tony,” Pepper replied lightly, her
hand running down the curve of Tony’s neck. “It’s just one more funny story we
can tell our daughter later.”
What Tony mumbled next was unintelligible.
With tenderness, Pepper kissed the edge of
Tony’s hairline. So what if we don’t have a textbook Hallmark Christmas,
she thought. All ribbing aside, she loved her mixed-up doofus of a spouse —
surprise rodents and all.
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