Something I wrote with/for my friend. Was originally a songfic, but after certain people told me about the ban of songfics on FF, I edited it into a story. Seeing how it was originally a songfic, it would be good to possibly listen to Breaking The Habit by Linkin Park while reading this. It's not necessary, but it might be nice.
Warning: this story will be dark with mentions of past child abuse and suicide. If you are looking for a nice story I suggest you look somewhere else, If you're looking for an Angsty Tragedy, read on.
I don't own any characters. Marvel does.
Tony Stark practically ran into the kitchen area on one of the many floors of his tower. He had just finished designing the new model of the 'Stark Phone' for Pepper and was in desperate need of a coffee.
While he sat, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, he thought about the past few days. After the fight with Loki, Tony had offered the avengers a place in his tower if they ever needed it. Although most had refused, Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers, otherwise known as the Hulk and Captain America, had decided (after much hesitation) to stay.
The coffee maker dinged, indicating the coffee was ready.
As he poured himself a cup, a voice sounded from behind him.
"You really should get some sleep."
Oh joy. Tony thought sarcastically, It's grandpa Steve Rogers.
He turned to face the Captain with a smile on his face. "Hey Capsicle. Don't need sleep, I got coffee."
Tony raised the coffee in indication before taking a sip of it, frowning at the taste. Maybe he had not let it steep as long as he should have.
"You know, thats not really the best for your health." Steve said.
Tony shrugged. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone right now, especially not Steve. Don't get him wrong, Tony had nothing against the guy, but the way he always talked so highly about Howard...
"It's always worked for me. Anyway, I need to get back to the lab and work on my new suit. Nice talking with you." Tony said taking a step forward, intent on leaving the room.
"Tony." Steve said,grabbing his arm to stop him. "Do you think that you could, um, fill me in on some of the details I missed while I was in the ice sometime?"
Tony forced a smile on his face. Talking to Steve was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.
"Of course. But I really got to go work on my suit, it's important." Tony said, once again trying to exit the room.
Steve tightened his grip on Tony's arm and swallowed nervously, causing Tony raise an eyebrow.
"Yes?" he asked.
Steve cleared his throat before saying, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, Will you please tell me more about what Howard was like after I left?"
Tony stiffened in Steve's grip, the name of his father causing unwanted memories to flood through his mind. He needed to get out of the room. Fast.
"Maybe later." Tony said in a strained voice, "Right now I really gotta go work on my suit."
Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but instead nodded and let go of Tony's arm.
Tony almost sighed in relief as Steve let go of his arm, and quickly exited the kitchen and returned to his lab.
Tony leaned on his worktable, panting heavily. Memories of his father swam through his mind unbidden.
"JARVIS." Tony called out, his eyes clenched shut as he tried to block out the unpleasant memories.
"Yes sir?" the cool British voice sounded.
"Put the lab on lock-down. I don't want anybody coming in."
"But sir-" the AI protested.
Tony growled, he didn't have time for this. "JARVIS." he warned.
"Yes sir." JARVIS said with obvious displeasure.
Tony sighed and walked over to the worn out couch in the corner of the lab. He sat down and covered his face with his hands, this was not how he wanted his day to go. He always had trouble when the topic of Howard was brought up, but the time it was worse because it had to be Captain America that brought it up.
The truth about Tony's relationship with Howard was not very widely known. In fact, the only people alive who knew about it were the Tony and the few private doctors and nurses that were sworn to secrecy.
Everyone thought that the Starks were a normal rich family. They never even suspected the things that went on behind closed doors. The pain, the screams, the tears.
Truth was, after Captain America 'died', Howard Stark lost it. Steve Rogers was the perfect son that Howard had always wanted and Tony was what he got instead.
Truth was, Howard Stark spent the later part of his life drinking and searching for his perfect son.
Truth was, Howard was abusive and Maria Stark didn't even care.
(O~O)~(O~O)~(O~O)
It was common knowledge that Tony Stark liked to lock himself in his lab when he worked on a new project.
Everyone knew. Pepper knew. Bruce knew. Steve knew.
So that's why when Tony didn't come up for lunch later that day, nobody batted an eye.
"He said he was working on a new suit," Steve told them, "said it was important."
"Makes sense." Bruce said as he made himself a sandwich, "His old one got damaged in the battle."
Pepper nodded, but inside, something told her she should be worried about her boyfriend. She knew that he had been having trouble sleeping lately and had been rather jittery. She was afraid to leave him alone, but figured he would be fine.
He's just working on a new suit, she assured herself, there's absolutely nothing to worry about.
(O~O)~(O~O)~(O~O)
Tony stared at the wall of his lab, thinking about the avengers, how he wasn't supposed to be one.
'Iron man: yes.' Fury had said, 'Tony Stark: not recommended.'
Was he that unwanted?
He stood up and began pacing.
Why me? He thought, Why does the world have to screw me over time and time again?
His thoughts drifted to his time in Afghanistan. They had kidnapped him. Tortured him. They had preformed open heart surgery on him without anesthesia. Yinsen had tried to-
Tony's throat constricted at the thought of the doctor who he had shared a cave with. The one who had risked so much to save him and had died because of Tony's selfishness.
My fault. He thought to himself, All my fault.
He grabbed a wrench on one of the nearby worktables and angrily hurled it at the wall with a yell.
Waves of emotion crashed through him like a restless ocean during a storm, tearing his sanity to shreds.
He bit his lip and looked down at the floor, tears pooling in his eyes.
He desperately wished that there was something that he could do to stop his thoughts, someone to talk to. But there wasn't, because Tony had pushed them all away. He had fought with them and hurt them with his words until they eventually just left. He never really meant what he said, he never did.
He never meant to hurt them. He never meant to hurt anyone.
Tony caught his reflection on one of the shiny windows in his lab and glared at it hatefully.
Despicable. He thought.
He made weapons, it was what he did for a living, at least before Afghanistan. Afghanistan had showed him what he really did. How his weapons were used. How instead of helping, he was killing.
When he got back, he had immediately stopped making weapons. He wanted to start over and help the world instead of destroying it, but no matter what he did, he could never wash off the blood of the thousands of lives he had destroyed.
Never.
He glanced at the door of his lab. Nobody was there.
The fact that no-one had come to check on him yet, hurt him in a way that he couldn't quite understand. After all, it was him who was always telling them to leave him alone and let him finish his 'project'. He should be happy that they were finally doing what he asked.
He groaned and began pacing anxiously in his lab, he was loosing it and he knew it. He needed help, but he wasn't sure where to find it. He glanced over at the locked chest in the corner of the room and thought about what it held.
No. he told himself, I'm not that desperate.
He rested his hand on his chest, feeling the Ark Reactor beneath the fabric of his shirt.
Tony felt a bitter smile grow on his face. The Ark Reactor, one of Tony Stark's greatest and worst inventions. It kept him alive, but it also made him vulnerable. He thought about how easy it would be, to just take it out, let the shrapnel in his chest slowly dig its way through his body towards his heart...
That's what Obie had done. Howard's best friend, the father he never had. He had turned and had stabbed Tony in the back... literally.
The pain from the betrayal was still fresh. Cutting him just as deep as any physical wound.
He stared at the ceiling of his lab, wondering how much longer he could last.
Death had never been so appealing to Tony, and that was saying something considering how he spent the first half of his life in a suicidal depression that nobody could drag him out of.
I wonder if anybody would miss me. He thought absently.
Pepper might miss him, and Bruce too. But they would move on. Everyone would. And the world would be a better place without him anyway.
He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He knew what he had to do. He made his way over to the locked chest in the corner of the room and unlocked it. He grabbed onto the lid and slowly opened it, revealing the contents.
A single gun was sitting in the center. Its sleek handle glinted ominously, seeming to call out to him.
He tentatively reached out and grabbed the gun, handling it with deft fingers. He played with it a while, admiring the way his hand seemed to fit perfectly on the handle.
He clicked off the safety and took a deep breath, slowly raising the gun to his temple.
He rested his finger on the trigger and swallowed thickly.
"JARVIS?" he called, his voice thick with emotion.
"Yes sir?" the voice of his butler called, worry evident in his computerized voice.
"I'm sorry." He whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.
And with one final shaky breath he opened his eyes...
and pulled the trigger.
Told you it wasn't going to be happy. You can decide whether Tony dies or not. Maybe in your head, the Avengers found him before the bullet hit him, maybe they found him laying dead on the ground. Whatever you imagine is fine. My work here is done. Peace.