He builds iron armours to protect his sanity.
She builds iron walls to protect her heart.
They both thought they were monsters,
and no one had really told them differently.
For him, the monster was his mind,
the continuous incessant sense of guilt that never stopped.
For her, the monster was inside, just under the skin,
barely controlled, always at risk of explosion.
But who said that monsters couldn't dance together?
Hi everyone! This is my first story, I hope you will like it. The events are about two months from Civil War and from here the story will carry on a different path. I am not English, so I apologize in advance for the errors.
PROLOGUE
"How much is there left in you
after you have lost everything
outside of yourself?"
- Orison Swett Marden
Tony Stark was, without a doubt, a walking coffee addict zombie. It had been already twenty-nine hours and twenty-seven minutes since the last sleep he had. If with sleep you mean barely two hours made of nightmares that wake you up screaming, crushing blankets that feels like snakes trying to suffocate you, and clothes drenched with sweat.
Tony Stark was now, without a doubt, feeling quite irritated. His mind was completely out of his control and was going in directions he certainly didn't want to go, taking his attention away from his last project, already difficult and taxing. The equations that had always been simple for him, now just seemed a mixture of words and numbers, completely impossible to understand with his tired eyes that unfocused every time he blinked.
Tony Stark didn't really want to meet people right now. He selfishly didn't want to see the disapproving gaze of Rhodes from his wheelchair, and he selfishly didn't want to feel the guilt that the friend would bring with him every time they would meet. But even if the soldier had tried to make Tony understand he didn't have to feel at fault, that the life of a military man was dangerous and it was just time before something like that would happen, he couldn't make magically disappear the face full of blame Tony would make every time he glanced at his legs.
Tony didn't want to see Happy. The man would sometimes come to see his friend to try to talk him out of his shell. He didn't want to see him because sometimes he could see his hand automatically snap for a second to his phone, almost as if to call Pepper, to tell her that the strong man they had always known was slowly crumbling down, wasting away in his blame trip. But then he would remember that the couple was on "pause" and hadn't really talked for some time.
And Pepper... God, he missed her. He missed her so much that even breathing was difficult, even swallowing was hard. He missed her perfume, he missed her talking and nagging him, he missed how she was what kept him steady, how her fingers could make him calm down with barely a touch on his head, how with her warm eyes she could just bring his mind back from whatever was troubling him.
Tony Stark didn't want to think of Pepper Pots because now it wasn't the arc reactor that hurt, it was his heart. His heart that every time he thought of her would skip a beat, his breath tightening. It hurt too much to remember the smiles she would give him, the gentle kisses, everything they were, everything they could have been.
It wasn't her fault if they had gone separate ways, only his. It wasn't her fault if he was a mess and so difficult to be with, if his nightmares were slowly taking over every piece of reason he had, if his rage of the injustice for what had happened would sometimes appear so huge that everything seemed to cover under a red fog. Not even Tony would stay with himself if he could.
He really missed New York. He missed the crazy life that it had, the noises, the smells, the crazy people, and he missed his tower.
Tony hated staying at the facility and regretted and hated the day he had decided to come. It was too big and too empty and it smelled like broken promises, bad choices and unsatisfied rage. He felt trapped there, and even if there was nothing physically holding him down, he could feel the chains in his bones. He just wanted everything to disappear. The pain, the memories, to go away just for a few minutes, just so he could breathe again without ache in his ribcage.
He certainly didn't want to see Nick Fury right now. He didn't want to see the eye patch and feel the childish need to take it off. He didn't want to see his long, always black, cape and his demanding hard gaze that had somehow always made him feel like he was being stared into the soul.
So Tony Stark had to blink multiple times at the figure in front of him, trying to decide if he was starting to hallucinate, or if the person in the laboratory in front of him was real.
Maybe he was going insane.
"Stark" greeted Nick Fury, looking at him with hands crossed behind back in a military stand and probably expecting some kind of hello from the other man.
The genius simply stared back. His gaze went down to the scotch, making the ice tinkle as he moved his hand a little, wondering if he had too much of it and immediately frowned. How many drinks did he have? He didn't remember.
"Stark" said with impatience the man again, making his gaze snap on him.
No, Tony decided, the man and his permanent scowl were unfortunately too real to be made by his imagination.
"What" he replied, voice harsh from the alcohol, and he cleared his throat.
"What" Tony said again when he saw the director eyebrows frown, feeling irritation building up. Normally, he would feel more careful around the man who could snap his neck without breaking a sweat, but he was tired and currently didn't want to see any face near his persona.
"You look like hell" replied the man, not raising the voice. He looked at the rumpled clothes, the bear in a severe need of shaving, too pale skin and the big purple circles under bloodshot eyes. Around him, tons and tons holograms and tablets. He didn't make more comments.
"Thanks" replied the man in sarcasm before taking another sip of his burning drink, ignoring the man and returning his vacant gaze to the table. What was he doing before he was interrupted? It just seemed a confusing mess of fluctuating images.
"We need to talk" said the man while coming silently in front of him. He snatched the tablet that was in front of him, earning an indignant shout. When he looked at it, he lifted an eyebrow. It was just a chaos of numbers, letters and symbols and even little stupid drawings that had no sense whatsoever.
"What do you want?" asked Tony in temper. The other man simply lowered the device and calmly looked at him.
"When was the last time you slept?" asked Fury with still the good eyebrow up.
"I don't know, what do you want?" said again Tony, snatching the tablet away from his hands and placing it again on the table, hitting a little harder than he probably should have.
"You need sleep" replied the man again, ignoring his question.
"I sleep just fine, thank you very much" replied the man, sipping again the alcohol "Why are you here Nick? Surely not a pleasure visit, your heart is too cold for that" continued Tony, voice full of sarcasm. The other man rolled his good eye, but didn't reply at the jab. Instead, he started to search in the pocket of his coat while he glared at the genius with the good eye, feeling a bit of satisfaction when Stark squirmed.
"You are not going to shoot me, right?" asked Tony, feeling a little uneasy under the hard stare "It was just a joke, you have a beautiful and kind heart" he added, moving slightly in agitation on the chair.
"Don't be an idiot" replied Fury, finally taking out the piece of paper he was searching and handling it to Stark. The man took it carefully from his hands, as if he expected an attack from it and then looked at the photo.
It was an enlarged photo ID of a young woman, probably in her early twenties, with black hair moving in gentle waves that stopped just above the shoulders and skin so pale that could compete with his. She had a round face with a heart-shaped mouth and golden eyes, completed by heavy bags under them. She would have been a beauty if not for the way she was looking at the camera, slightly ruining the image. She was staring at it coldly, no expression in her doll like face, almost if she wasn't feeling anything the moment it was taken. It was unnerving.
"Isn't she a little too young for you, director?" asked Tony as he returned his gaze on the other man.
"This is serious Stark" replied the man with a touch of annoyance. Tony simply rolled his eyes. Everything about the man was serious, there had never been a trace of joy or happiness in Nick Fury; he had a feeling that the day the man would smile, the world would end.
"Why are you showing me this photo?" asked Tony, rubbing his hand on his face, hoping the conversation wouldn't go the wrong way. He had a feeling that if he was here, with him in the laboratory and not doing the devil only knows what, the director was going to do or say something he truly didn't want to hear. Could the world continue to circle around without troubling him for a day or two or was it too much to ask?
"Her name is Eris Guerra" said Fury "She is going to stay here for a while with you" he added, tone unapologetic as he stared at his tired face.
"I'm sorry" hissed Stark as he felt his headache rise dangerously. He put heavily down the glass and made the scotch splat on the table dangerously close to the devices, but he ignored it, glaring angrily at the other man "But I think I heard you say that she is going to stay here"
"Exactly" simply replied the man, as if there was not a problem with it.
"No" immediately replied Tony, shaking his head. There was no way a stranger was coming here and disturb his alone time. He didn't want to babysit anyone and surely didn't have the patience for it. He wanted peace and silence and solitude. Hell could break loose and unicorns could fly before he would consent.
And now he needed more alcohol.
"I am not asking" said sternly the director "She is in need of a place to stay and I don't trust her with anyone else. I will be away for some time and I can't bring her with me"
"Yeah, still not happening" Tony said as he turned around and quickly rose to his feet. He wanted to go away from the imposing man and what he was asking and forget the entire conversation. He was tired, he was irritated and now he his head was pounding like crazy. He started to get away when the director talked again.
"I owe her" said Fury through his teeth, the mere thought of saying it paining him, and the other man turned his head so quickly that a snap could be heard. Tony looked at him with wide eye and mouth agape.
"You OWE her?" he asked in disbelief "My god, now I need to meet her" he said, glancing at the photo of the cold woman still in his hand and now, with curiosity poked, wondered how the hell did she managed that. No one that he knew had ever slightly managed to call a debt on the reincarnation of satan.
"Good, because she will be here tomorrow at 9 a.m." said the director with a tone that didn't admit discussions. Then he turned, heading with long strides to the door before Stark could even think of a reply, leaving him to blink at the sudden empty space.
"Wait, what? I said no!" immediately shouted Tony at his retreating back when finally the words registered in his mind "Damn Fury!" he yelled in anger, throwing his hands up as he felt all control slipping away as again, things were done without his knowledge or consent and again he was the one to have to feel the consequences. He hated losing control. He hated to be the only one that always had to fix everything.
"Go get some sleep Tony" said the director at the door, glancing one last time at him with some reprimand in his face "You look like shit and I don't want you to do something stupid tomorrow"
Then the man went out the laboratory, vanishing before Tony could even mutter another rejection, leaving him alone to steam off the anger.
He clutched his hands hard, feeling the nails dig into the flesh before he finally softened them, easing the angry breath.
After a few minutes of looking at the empty door he sat down heavily, making the chair crack loudly. He massaged his heavy eyes and temples, trying to easy the tension that never wanted to go away these days. There was really no point in being mad. He didn't even have the energies, or the will, to do so.
Feeling drained from the small conversation and the aggravating man, he simply returned with slow motions to the project, letting holograms and lights burn a little more his eyes, trying to come out with some idea. Everything remained unchanged for hours.
Maybe it was a good idea the girl was coming here in the end. There was an urgent need of distraction.
For now, he had scotch and coffee.