Hello! So this is my very first story in the Avengers universe, hope you'll like it. A lovely one-shot about ansgty Tony, don't we love them all?

Oh and bear with me, English is not my first language.

Disclaimer: i don't own anything of course, wish I could though (wouldn't be against a lovely Tony Stark)...

The Man With The Broken Heart

Tony Stark was many things. Most people didn't know half of them.

The one that was obvious to them was that he was a genius. They could look at his inventions. He had built more things in his life and revolutionized the world of technology more than anyone else. The weapons he built were the best: deadlier, more accurate, faster and yet they were easier to use, often enough smaller than anyone else's. People would never forget them (They told me that if I'd presented you with an award, you'd be deeply honored). They were the things that most revolutionized the world according to them.

Tony thought they were wrong. To him, it was his other inventions that were the most important.

His intelly crops had eradicated famine and hunger and helped families and farmers stay in some kind of business – or get into it. His research in medicine – with the help of doctors specialized – had made almost all diseases disappear thanks to the cures and vaccines they had found for them – mostly for the diseases in Africa. Cancer was a thing of the past – except for brain tumors, those still resisted them. His complexes in Africa furnish energy to all of them – Africa wasn't as much behind as she used to be.

One of his best – one of his personal favorites – his clean and always available water. Thirst was something people stopped suffering from – except if they chose to be or don't have a choice (He had experienced it first hand). Cheap salt-turned-clean water. Cheap water completely clean after its passage through sewage. He knew it worked – he had drunk some. He was proud of that one… but no one realized he was the creator of that wonderful invention. In fact, most people assumed there never was a before and that it had always been this way.

He didn't blame them. He was happy knowing people had enough to eat and drink everywhere in the world if they could – he knew first hand that if you were in the desert you couldn't find water no matter how much you wanted to. He wasn't naïve enough to believe people could always afford it either – but if he could he would make sure they all could. Unfortunately, he couldn't.

The second thing everyone knew was the billionaire one. No need for him to detail it, it was clear for everyone. He had multiplied his fortune by fifty since he took over SI.

Then came the playboy thing. Truth was it technically stopped since Afghanistan – the only woman he had been with since then was Pepper, he didn't plan on having anyone else. But he was at one point – he figured it was the only way he could have some form of affection without getting attached. He knew very well he couldn't afford to let people get too close – he'd learned it at an early age (I'm sorry, little boy, I'm so sorry). So if he couldn't get involved in a relationship, he had no choice but to get unto multiple different meaningless flings (How did she take it? 'Like a champ). He could never be one hundred percent sure people genuinely wanted to know him or if they were after his money and name – why bother trying to know by getting attached and ending being hurt? It was easier that way (I'll be prepared to lose a few with you) even if he ended up with a reputation that made him hated by many people.

The next one made him snort most of the time.

Narcissist.

He always agreed with it cause, let's face it, it's easier people believe it to be true than having to explain the real, harsh reality, which is: he hates himself.

So much self-loathing was probably something that needed to be checked on. Shrinks would love to scrutinize him piece by piece – try to get to know how someone who supposedly had everything hated himself that much (A man who has everything… and nothing). He had the blood of hundreds of thousands of people on his hands – that was enough to make him want to hurl one of his repulsors beams at himself. He kept hurting people (Stick to the plan, Yinsen), only having regrets, never having what most people seek. He could pretend so much, but there was always a moment he couldn't escape from. Sleep. The nightmares plagued him every night, reminding him of what he'd done, who he really was (The only thing you really fight for is yourself) – a man with more blood on his hands than anyone else in the world (Welcome Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America), a man who hurt uncountable times the people close to him (Too many apologies to too many people), who couldn't do anything right.

"Worthless" – "Useless" - "You should have never been born."

And so he became someone the world could hate and if the world hated him, who was he not to follow? People hated an alcoholic narcissist manwhore bastard. And so Tony Stark was born. The worst was how easy it became to hate himself after that.

Not that he needed it.

No… What would the world think if they knew what he was underneath that persona? Just like somehow they don't know he is under Iron Man (Take the suit off, what are you?).

What would the world think if they knew the man they hated felt the same and went so far as to kill himself?

He always flirts with death – it was no secret. He drove too quickly to be safe, never slowing down. He often wondered how his liver could still be complete with the amount of alcohol he drank. And now with Iron Man? He was practically asking for it. He wondered if he should wave a flag: "Hello, here's a man who wants to die! Who will make his wish come true?" He could actually picture it.

His work itself was proof. No one could say he had an all-proof safety lab. He often got burned, zapped. He never worked with any protection – except the occasional mask. He had little self-preservation.

He supposed what made it all truer was his first real and only tentative. His scars had faded away long ago, but he found himself tracing invisible lines when his mind wondered too much, when he dwelled on the dark places of his mind.

He never meant for it to happen back then. He didn't register what he was doing, he'd cut himself with a blade he was using for his work. He kept the blade in his hand while going into his bathroom. Turned the faucet on. Glanced at his reflection. Saw the bruises on his face and arms. The blade slipped across his left wrist. He had looked down at it, not registering the blood slipping from the cut vein. It wasn't a clean cut, perfectly straight, he realized. It zigzagged and he found it wrong somehow. He had to make it right. And so he cut his right wrist in a perfect straight line.

Then he realized what he'd done. And the blade had fallen from his hands. The door had opened and Jarvis had come in.

The rest was a blur of pain, blood, screams and cries.

He was eleven.

His father had been drunker than usual and instead of yelling and shaking him a bit by his arms, he had pushed him against the wall and beat him before leaving him to his project – Howard Stark had discovered his son had stolen pieces of metal and wires from his lab. Tony had been relieved he didn't see his newly-made robot – almost finished – he affectionately called Dummy.

It had been a push too far.

The young child, barely happy, had realized just how much his father hated him (You worthless scum, you'll never be anything but a useless piece of shit! You hope you can be loved and make me proud? Ah! Never! No one can love a kid that won't do anything right! You should have never been born!). Each word had been worse than each blow.

But he never forgot those. The scars they left were still there for everyone to see where the physical ones had disappeared. He knew it was irrational. He knew each word wasn't true. He had proved to the world with his work and everything he's done to help people (I shouldn't be alive unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right). He guessed he could do things right – he was trying at least. And people… people could care. Pepper does – and Happy, Rhodey. The Avengers. Or so he hoped.

But love… he couldn't even love himself. He only sees flaws.

People were right. He was an arrogant ass he knew he was every bit his father with his words that stung and hurt more than what most people can do. He knows he has a way with words. He can insult people without really trying. Hell he could come up with every possible thing people could throw at him and have several answers ready to send back before they even knew what they were going to say.

Truthfully he did it so he couldn't get hurt. He pushed everyone away so they couldn't hurt him, betraying his trust, destroying the little self-esteem he had. They could hurt him so easily. It took ten words to hurt them, but only one to hurt him – metaphorically (You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you). But somehow some people managed to wring their way into his home, then his heart (I don't have anyone but you) – or the other way around.

Rhodey had been the first. He had been fourteen when he entered MIT. Immediately bullies – who were six to eight years older than him – had narrowed their victims down to one. Him. Why? He was much younger – couldn't defend himself – he was the son of Howard Stark, which to them meant he was there thanks to his name and his father's money (Look, who's here! It's Daddy dearest's boy Starky! Did you tell him about the big bad boys we are?). Rhodey – five years older, bulkier then had jumped to his help after two months of being pushed into walls, having his things thrown around, being mocked in class, in sport, and just being awfully alone. With Rhodey on his side all physical attacks had stopped. But the mockery had stayed until he shut them all up with You – his second robot, built for the Science run, and counting for half the semester's note.

Since then Rhodey had become his best friend, being there through his parents' death, the slow descent into hell that followed. He'd been there when Rhodey first lost one of his comrades, silent support at his apartment despite the fact that he wasn't all that great at comforting others. And now… they were still – somehow he didn't know how Rhodey could still stand him – best friends with highs and lows.

Then… Pepper.

She had worn her way to his heart. Completely and irrevocably. He was done for. He knew she was aware of it even if he didn't always show it. She had his heart and… She could break it and kill him as surely as taking his reactor out would. He loves her (Don't waste your life). And he knew for a fact that there would never be anyone else. If… something happened to her, he would lose it. The last year with her… had been the best of his life. He knew he wasn't easy to live with – hell to be with or around – but he was trying for her because she knew he wouldn't be able to live without her. He wouldn't be able to handle it if she left him. Even if he knew she loved him – she had insisted on telling him time after time to get it through his thick skull. But he still had a hard time believing it and was afraid of destroying everything they had together because he knew he could do it way too easily for his liking.

Then Happy managed to become his friend, always there, providing advice when he felt Tony needed it – which was often ever since he'd been with Pepper. Relationships-wise, anyone was better than Tony. And Happy definitively proved he was good at it countless times (It's Pepper. The only thing she will ever want from you is to know you're alive).

And finally came the Avengers.

Bruce had been the first and the easiest out of them all. He became his science bro, with a wicked dry sense of humor and a past similar to his, with lows as bad as his – the difference was he was more open about them than Tony was (The Other Guy spit it out). He was one of the nicest man he knew, always ready to help, always having a nice word for everyone. He hated his "other guy" who was his opposite in every way. But Tony didn't mind the Hulk. He trusted both of them. The Hulk had saved him and that was all that counted. And well Bruce was a very good lab partner (It's Candy land).

Clint – strangely enough – had been next. But it was mostly because once you got over the fact he was a SHIELD agent, he was a very nice guy. He had the same humor as he did, was fun to be around of. They often ended up pranking the others together – usually with Tony distracting and Clint up in the vents or hiding somewhere (his specialty).

Then went Thor. Even if the guy was the brother of an evil manipulative son of a bitch, and well was arrogant and quick to anger and offend – but, hey, couldn't blame the guy, he was a prince and a warrior after all – he was still a loyal, nice guy. Except when he broke something and he had to build/buy it again. Then he wasn't exactly happy with him (What did my TV do to you, again?).

Natasha… was a difficult one. He was still slightly peeved at her for deceiving him the way she did but… Pepper ended up trusting her and… well who was he to disagree? (Just forgive and forget, Tony. It's easier than staying pissed.) So he ended up getting closer to her. But he never fully trusted her. He can't. (I let you in and you literally ripped my heart out!) Even Clint and Thor he didn't really trust. He considered them friends, he trusted them in the middle of a fight, but on a day-to-day basis? He was wary of all three of them ("Don't worry, kiddo, we'll be fine" – "You promise me money for him.").

Four in fact.

There was Steve Rogers left.

Captain America (He was something – perfect. Something you'll never be.).

He just couldn't. Sure Captain America in a fight? He trusted – except when his plans were crap and he had better ones. Steve Rogers? No. The worst was that, no matter how much he couldn't stand the guy, he was way too much nice, likeable and… too much good not to end up liking him.

And he understood why his father had wanted to find him so badly (Howard, stop running after a ghost, your son's right here and he needs you.). But that didn't erase all his resentment and frustration and anger and… and just how much he had hated the man for making him fight against his ghost a hopeless battle for his father's love and pride. He resented Steve for winning his father's love and complete admiration in a few months when he couldn't get it in seventeen years (That's the guy my dad never shut up about?). He didn't care about his father's speech about how he was his "greatest creation" (He never told me he loved me, he never even told me he liked me). He didn't trust the guy's word – he was five then, hardly knew his father was so bent against him. Captain America was still his hero then. For two years, he would stay that way. Then he would reject him and stopped thinking about him (You lied Cap! You're not my hero!) until the news came out: Steve Rogers was found in the ice. Alive.

So maybe, Steve had managed to get to him in more ways than one (You'd better stop pretending to be a hero), maybe he became some kind of friend, maybe every time Rogers said how disappointed he was, Tony took it in stride – pretending to be unaffected. But really the look Rogers will give him every single fucking time was the same one his father used to give him all the time (Nothing but a disappointment). It was all too much.

So he pretends he's everything people think he is (Textbook narcissism – agreed).

He pretends to care only about himself (Pepper…).

He pretends to be a hero when Iron Man (And I know just where to put it), and a bastard when Tony Stark (The Merchant of Death? That's not bad).

He pretends to be self-absorbed and narcissist.

He pretends to be untouchable, to be able to shrug off everything (Oh, Yinsen…).

And he pretends so much to be someone he's not that sometimes he forgets who he really is.

There! Tell me what you think of it.

AngelShep