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 // ChapterTwo)
(All introductory notes, meanwhile, can be found
in Chapter One.)
--*--
Chapter Three
“You’re leaving.”
“Aakriti’s a friend,” Bruce said. “And it’s a
chance to do some good.”
Tony nodded. Bruce had mentioned his plans to
return to Kolkata a few days before, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him in the
common room with a duffle slung over his shoulder. Still, the part of Tony that
was selfish and clingy wanted to ask - to beg - his friend to stay.
Tony knocked back a shot, his mouth twisting as
the alcohol burned down his throat.
Apparently reading Tony’s thoughts, Bruce sat
down beside him, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his Starkphone.
“Physically, you’re improving, Tony. I promise. If you stick to the diet and
your medications, you will recover your strength. But if you need
anything at all, you can call me. Don’t try to push through things alone.”
Tony chuckled sadly. “You know me so well.”
“Yeah, I do. And hey.” Bruce wrapped his hands
around Tony’s and wrested the shot glass out of Tony’s grip. “Do me a favor and
go easy on this stuff, okay? It’s not healthy.”
“No worries, big guy,” Tony replied, flashing
what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just having a little nightcap before
bed.” Or two. Or three. Just enough to slow things down — to quiet the thoughts
that whirled inside his head.
Bruce watched Tony for a long moment with a
thoughtful frown. Then, patting Tony’s shoulder once, he departed.
--*--
“Maybe we should leave too,” Pepper suggested
later that night, stroking Tony’s upper arm as they spooned. “There’s nothing
you can do here that you can’t do anywhere else, right? You can always bring
your workshop with you.” Tony pressed his face into his pillow, saying nothing
as Pepper continued. “I know this place is your baby, honey. But you need time
to really heal. And I think — I think maybe there are too many ghosts for you
here. Too many reminders of what you’ve lost.”
The suggestion hurt, but Tony had to admit
Pepper was right. He’d often caught himself pausing in the hall outside the
room he’d set aside for Peter, his heart skipping beats in his chest. Perhaps
lingering at the compound was intensifying his recent depression.
And as it turned out, Tony knew exactly where he
and Pepper could go. After Ultron, he’d secretly bought a cabin on a lake about
eighty miles to the northeast — a cozy, secluded little place that, with a few
upgrades, would make a perfect home. He’d hoped to surprise Pepper with it
after their wedding — had hoped to take a page from Birdie’s book and build his
own farm away from the press and the world’s prying eyes. Surely there was no
reason why he couldn’t move there now.
So Tony started to make the arrangements.
Between the renovation plans for the cabin and
the drones he was designing for a contract SI had recently signed with UPS to
deal with the shipping company’s labor shortfall, Tony stayed busy — and
distracted. He was still drinking every night in an attempt to beat back the
lurking demons, but for once, he felt like he was in control and moving forward
—
— up until, that is, his shitty immune system
decided to throw him a curve.
It was a simple summer cold at first. The
congestion and the mild fever were annoying and uncomfortable, but Tony muddled
through by chugging Dayquil at regular intervals and shoving tissues up his
sleeves. In reality, he probably should’ve stayed in bed until the damned thing
had run its course. But he was pursuing an inspiration with that UPS project,
and - as was his habit - he’d found it difficult to stop.
Or, at the very least, that’s what he kept
telling himself.
Then the infection settled into his chest,
developing into a wracking cough that tugged at the metal and wires holding his
sternum together and left him almost moaning in pain. Even more concerning, his
fingers started going numb, which made it increasingly difficult to type or use
his tools with any precision.
And as his fumbling mistakes increased, so too
did his agitation.
The day Tony lost his temper and threw his
limited edition Iron Man coffee mug across the lab was the day Pepper forced
him to call a doctor. And that’s how the true - and alarming - source of his
difficulties was finally discovered.
“Mr. Stark,” Dr. Bahadouri asked after the
initial examination, his expression troubled, “have you noticed any shortness
of breath lately? Any trouble breathing at all?”
Tony reflected. “No. Just — just the cough.” At
which point he started hacking again — a deep, croupy cough that rattled
ominously in his lungs. After the fit passed, he sucked in an anxious gulp of
air and pressed his palm against his aching chest.
“Well, based on your vitals, you appear to be in
acute respiratory failure.”
“What?”
A short time later, Tony was confined to the med
bay again - this time on full oxygen - with a diagnosis of viral pneumonia.
RSV, to be precise — because apparently, the fates had decided he hadn’t quite
suffered enough and knocked him down with a kiddie cough.
Fuck my life.
Forced into idleness under Dr. Bahadouri’s
watchful eyes, Tony could no longer dodge the nightmares that haunted the edges
of his consciousness. And that — was dangerous.
With no problem to confront besides his own
internal recriminations, Tony found himself spiraling once again.
--*--
Pepper was worried.
Mind you, she wasn’t naive enough to believe
that a week of semi-good days meant Tony was out of the woods. No: Tony’s
emotional balance had always turned on a wheel. Some days, he was at the top —
productive, calm, and reasonably happy. And on other days, he was at the
bottom — struggling in the mud and mire.
But seeing Tony huddled in the hospital bed -
his eyes nearly black with fatigue, his hair greasy, his face unshaven beneath
his nasal cannula - once again filled her with the vague sense of foreboding
that had been her near constant companion since the world as she’d known it had
ended.
Sighing, she squeezed into the bed beside Tony,
pressing herself against his back and wrapping her arm around his waist. She
knew Tony probably needed the contact — but she needed it too. She needed just
one more reminder that Tony was still here — just one more reminder of her good
fortune.
“Did you have breakfast this morning?” she
asked.
“No.”
“Tony, you have to eat.”
“Not hungry.”
Then Tony started coughing, his frame convulsing
in Pepper’s embrace. Pepper helped him sit upright so he could spit into a
kidney basin, then started rubbing circles on his back. Responding readily to
her touch, Tony tilted and bumped against her breast, his hair brushing the
underside of her chin.
“What about a sponge bath?” Pepper then
ventured.
Tony’s response was noncommittal. “Maybe.”
That right there revealed a great deal. If this
weren’t a bottom day, Tony surely would’ve cracked a randy joke. That he didn’t
seize the opportunity to flirt was, to Pepper, a bright signal flare.
“The doctor says you’re almost ready to step
down to room air.”
“Mm.”
“That means we can get out of here soon.”
“Mm.”
“Can you talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong?”
Tony rolled over onto his side. “‘M fine. Just
tired. Didn’t really sleep.”
Pepper had hoped the good news about his
progress would help bring Tony out of his funk. Now, she was officially at a
loss. “Tony — do you still want to get married?”
At that, Tony straightened, his eyes bright.
“Yes,” he said with passionate sincerity. He fisted Pepper’s shirt. “I love
you. I can’t — I can’t live without you. When I thought — when I didn’t know —”
Pepper put her finger on Tony’s lips to stop the
nervous flow of words, then caressed his face, running her thumb along his
cheek. “Then you have to be honest with me, okay? I want to give you time, but
if you keep hiding — that’s not fair to me — or to you.”
Tony swallowed — looked down. “I’m sorry, Pep. I
know you deserve more from me.”
In the slump of Tony’s shoulders, Pepper could
see Steve, Obie, and countless unknown others — years of people betraying
Tony’s trust. And at once, she understood — because even she had left once when
things got bad.
With another sigh, Pepper pulled Tony
close.
I’m here for the long haul this time, she thought. I just hope you realize that soon — before things
get out of control.
--*--
Tony sat on a bench near the main entrance, his
eyes safely concealed by his favorite pair of aviator glasses, and watched as a
moving van was loaded with the contents of his lab. He might’ve taken a more
active part in the proceedings, but the Fourth of July had dawned hot and
bright, and Pepper - convinced Tony still needed to take it easy - had
commanded him to stay put.
It was just as well; even at rest, Tony was
sweating through his t-shirt. In his hands, meanwhile, he held a glass of
whiskey he’d been nursing for the past hour — a toast, he mused gloomily,
to a new era.
Would the Avengers survive in his absence? Tony
thought so. He wasn’t that much of an egomaniac, thank you very
much. Indeed, he’d always known that one day, he’d be too old to don the Iron
Man armor. That’s why the training programs outlined in the Accords meant so
damned much to him. Eventually, somebody younger would have to take his mantle.
It was the right thing to do, Tony knew — to retreat,
at least for a time. For the sake of his company, his partner, and himself, he
needed to be the man behind the curtain.
Plus, it wasn’t as if he would never see any of
these people again. In fact, he’d offered new standing invitations to Nebula and
Carol to come visit him whenever they wished — because Tony figured they’d
earned a place at his table. Saving Tony Stark’s life made you family. Period.
End of discussion.
But that didn’t make the last few days of
sort-of-goodbyes any less difficult. Because as logical as his reasons for
leaving were, Tony just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing the team
in some fundamental way.
And ain’t that bizarre plot twist? Years ago, he’d told Nick to buzz off — to miss him with the
whole Avengers concept. Yet he’d sunk more than his money and engineering
know-how into this ridiculous boy band. In the end, he’d sunk his heart and
soul into it as well.
The roar of an approaching motorcycle suddenly
caught Tony’s attention. Instantly recognizing its rider, he finished the rest
of his drink and rose, squaring his shoulders and shoving his one free hand
into his pocket.
Fuck. I’m not prepared for this today.
As Tony debated whether to remain in place or
beat feet to just about anywhere else, Rogers pulled up to the curb, cut his
engine, and dismounted.
Looks like Captain Perfect even with his
helmet hair. Damn it.
“Hey, Tony.”
“Cap.”
“You’re leaving?”
Tony’s muscles were nearly-snapped guitar
strings. “Got some research and development to do. You know, since the whole
universe went to shit.”
Not giving up, mon capitan. Don’t even think
it.
(But aren’t you though? Isn’t this a kind of running
away? Aren’t you adding one more disappointment to a whole string of
disappointments and mistakes? Aren’t you just proving, once again, that you
only fight for yourself?)
Shut up, asshole.
“Happy ninety-fifth, by the way.” Tony cocked a
defensive grin. “Gotta say, you don’t look a day over twenty.”
A ghost of a smile played across the other man’s
lips. “You’re welcome to come to dinner — if you’re not in a hurry.”
The longing that washed over Tony in that moment
temporarily struck him dumb.
Yep. Definitely not prepared.
Tony wanted to believe they could go back to the
way things were. Back when they were cleaning up Hydra’s messes and the team
was whole. Back before that bug crawled into Tony’s ear and refused to leave
him alone. Back before that impenetrable curtain dropped between him and the
others and he suddenly couldn’t share his thoughts - what he saw, what he knew
for certain was coming - without sounding clinically insane. Back before he
tried to do the right thing anyway and somehow made the situation just that
much worse. But what was done was done.
“Sorry, Cap. Pep and I already have plans.”
Tony turned on his heel, but Rogers’ voice
stopped him before he could escape. “Tony — are you okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah, well.” Tony kept his face averted. “Just
got released from medical confinement a few days ago. It happens.” As if to
accentuate the point, his throat tickled, and he coughed into his elbow.
Rogers touched Tony’s back, and Tony jumped, a
livewire. “I wish you’d stay,” Rogers said. “We’ve never really had a chance to
talk — to clear the air.”
Tony wanted to accept the invitation — or
clock Rogers right in his chiseled jaw. What could he possibly say that
wouldn’t sound ridiculous and needy and completely unworthy?
I was lost without you, Cap. Is that what you
want to hear? I hate your fucking guts for lying to me, but I hate you even
more for leaving me alone. In the most important
battle of his life, Tony had only one person who really knew him in his corner
— and he was a sixteen-year-old kid who shouldn’t have come in the first place.
Or how ‘bout this: All I’ve ever wanted was your
respect. Shit, I grew up with your poster over my bed and your name emblazoned
on my training pants. But I was never good enough, was I? No matter what I did,
I could never live up to your impossible standards.
Jesus, if he actually admitted any of that out
loud, it would be a complete disaster.
Tony closed his eyes. “No,” he managed, his
voice strangled by the barely controlled mixture of sadness and fury that
boiled in the pit of his stomach.
“Tony —”
“We’re not doing this.” Tony pulled away roughly
and headed for the park. “We’re done. See me retreating like a God-damned adult
instead of starting a fistfight? Be happy. Celebrate the growth.”
Tony continued his quick, temper-fueled strides
until he made it to the tree line, then chanced a look back. Rogers hadn’t
followed. For reasons he didn’t dare identify, that only made Tony angrier.
Puffing from the exertion, he pitched his now-empty glass into the spoiled
forest and sat down hard, his face falling into his hands.
--*--
Later that night, Tony sat wide awake in his
bed, still exercised by the encounter with Rogers — and disturbed, curiously,
by the unbearable loudness of the lakeside quiet.
“Tony,” Pepper murmured at his side, “do you
need a Unisom?”
“No. ‘S too late. Have an early morning
conference call with Rick tomorrow about my carbon reclamator idea.” If they
could get that off the ground, maybe the loss of half the world’s vegetation
wouldn’t completely fuck the climate.
“Then come here,” Pepper said, inviting Tony
into her arms.
For a long while, they lay face to face, their
legs entwined, as Pepper gently massaged the junction between Tony’s shoulder
and his neck. Tony relaxed into the touch, humming a bit when the knot there
finally released. “Love you,” he breathed.
“Love you too.”
“Have I said that enough?” Tony asked, alert
once again. “I feel like I haven’t.” He knew he sounded like a cheesy, lovesick
puppy, but damn it: he didn’t care.
“Tony —”
“I’m sorry. I’ll say it at least once every day
—”
“Stop worrying and kiss me already.”
The kiss was long, deep, and increasingly
passionate as Tony felt his own body respond to a long-neglected need. By the
time their lips finally parted, he was gasping — and noticeably aroused. “Is it
—? Can we —?”
“Yes,” Pepper replied, her face flushed. And
then she was on top of him.
When Tony next knew full consciousness, he was
lying flat on his back, shaking and drenched with sweat.
He’d missed that. He’d missed feeling anything
other than sorrow.
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