This is another one-shot, one that's been stewing for a long, long time. This was my very first actual Avengers fanfiction, inspired by Shinedown's song "What a Shame." The lyrics are included, and I most definitely do not own them or claim any rights or privileges on them.
WARNING! This story features character death as the main focus. If you hate reading about people who died, don't read or tell me so. Just click out and quietly leave. Thank you.
I would suggest listening to the song while you read, but you don't have to.
A Shame
Funerals weren't ever happy places, Steve Rogers mused. But they seemed even worse when the person in the box was never supposed to be there – when the victim had never really needed to die.
He felt more responsible than most, he supposed. After all, hadn't it been him who had issued the challenge so long ago? (Had it only been two days?) Hadn't he been the only one to see the steel in the other man's (hero's) eyes, the firm resilience in his stance? Why, he asked himself, had he ever assumed anything about the man standing in front of him? Why had he judged him before learning anything about his past?
They all had their demons, some more than others. Natasha had her past, her ledger. Clint had his past, so similar to Natasha's yet so different, and now he had another layer of red, so much fresher and brighter. Bruce had red, too, but his was not entirely his fault – the beast within him had given him no choice. Thor…he didn't know much of the god's past, but he'd heard of an event in New Mexico that had killed innocent people – to him, that was bad enough. As for he himself, Steve Rogers, he'd killed so many in war – so many misguided young men – that, even though it was "in service of his country," he still woke screaming from nightmares with their accusing faces behind his eyelids.
Stark, well, Stark had been a weapons manufacturer and many had been killed because someone was dealing under the table (Steve got up to date on world news, and SHEILD had helped out with some of the more…classified stuff); somewhere Steve had heard mention of Afghanistan, too, and he didn't know how that tied in, but he could swear that he'd heard the genius wake screaming from nightmares nightly in the helicarrier.
He'd never tried to delve deeper into anyone's pasts, never tried to help anyone with their demons – he'd had his own to deal with and while he was a leader, and leaders were supposed to help their soldiers, none of them were soldiers. Especially not the one before him, enclosed in a box of dark oak.
Even as he stood there, people went up to give speeches on the dead man's life. Steve jolted as alcohol was mentioned, and the man's father – he'd known him, he couldn't be that bad – who apparently had changed, and women, and so many other issues that he'd never known had been that bad. Sure, he'd heard of them (the news buzzed with his name), but somehow the reports seemed lacking when compared to first-hand accounts. When his heroics were mentioned, so brief in comparison with his mistakes, Steve heard Pepper break into sobs behind him.
A song came on over the speakers. Judging from what Steve had gleaned from the preacher's words before (had Stark even wanted a preacher?), this was a song that Pepper had specifically selected for Stark's funeral. Steve found it a little morbid, that she'd thought this through this far.
Two packs of cigarettes a day
The strongest whiskey
Kentucky can make
Steve had to snort at the opening lines. It sounded like Stark, all right. Booze had never been far from his reach for the short time that he'd known the man. ("No drink? You sure? I'm having one.")
That's a recipe to put a vagabond
On his hands and knees
I watched it all up close,
I knew him more than most
I saw a side of him he never showed
He thought those lines through. Pepper had chosen this song, right? Obviously, she had something to say about him, something that no one had ever really tried to find out. Steve snorted again. Anything was possible, he supposed, but this man before him ("genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist") couldn't have been that complex. Sure, he made the sacrifice play, but that just meant that he'd wanted to protect his tower or something. His type were always after three things: booze, girls, and more money.
Full of sympathy for a world that
Wouldn't let him be
Sympathy for the world? What sympathy? He'd never seen Stark once seem at all sympathetic for anyone but…well, Bruce, maybe. ("Finally, someone who speaks English.") And maybe Pepper, but he'd never met her until now.
That's the man he was,
Have you heard enough?
Steve still held fast to his guns; Tony Stark was not a man that he'd ever want under his command. He was too cocky, too unpredictable, too self-absorbed. He'd never actually seemed sorry for anything that had happened, not even during their big argument on the helicarrier. ("Threatening! I feel threatened!")
What a shame, what a shame,
To judge a life that you can't change
The choir sings, the church bells ring
So, won't you give this man his wings?
What a shame to have to beg you to
See we're not all the same
What a shame
The chorus started, and Steve jumped. He'd never heard this much guitar in his life! All he could hers was scattered words, his ears trying and failing to hear the lyrics over the guitar line. But he did catch the overall drift. What did they mean, give a man his "wings?" Did they mean let him rest in peace, clear his name? From what he'd heard, Stark's name was well and truly dirtied.
There's a hard life for every silver spoon
There's a touch of grey for every shade of blue
That's the way that I see life
If there was nothing wrong,
Then there'd be nothing right
Was Pepper trying to say that the genius had a reason to be…the way he was? Did Howard really change that much? The man he'd known was centered around his work, of course, but he'd been a good man. ("Me, I concentrate on work.") How could he have become cold enough to mistreat his son? He'd heard the eulogies – people telling of Howard's apathy toward Stark, of the boy's struggles to make his father proud. But…
And for this working man they say could barely stand
There's gotta be a better place to land
Some kind of remedy for a world that
Wouldn't let him be
Sure, Steve had heard of all of Stark's projects-to-come – Bruce and the genius had been discussing them once as he walked by the lab in the helicarrier. Something about better body armor and a more powerful "Widow's Bite," whatever that was. And he thought he had heard something about stronger punching bags, but he'd shrugged that off. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe Stark actually wanted to help them, to do the only thing he could – make them better equipment, more advanced weapons and…other things.
That's the man he was,
Have you heard enough?
What a shame, what a shame,
To judge a life that you can't change
The choir sings, the church bells ring
So, won't you give this man his wings?
What a shame to have to beg you to
See we're not all the same
What a shame
Steve shook his head. Nothing made sense anymore. Pepper obviously had a reason to play this song with these lyrics at Stark's funeral. As a solo started, it gave Steve time to think, time to wonder about just how well he knew the man in the iron suit, with the glowing heart. He'd never really talked with him except to argue. In fact, the only real conversation he'd ever had with him was an argument, and a fierce one at that. Insults had been hurled from both sides. ("Everything special about you came out of a bottle!")
God forgive the hands that laid you down
They never knew how
Much a broken heart can break the sound
And change the season
Now the leaves are falling faster,
Happily ever after
You gave me hope through your endeavors
And now you will live forever
Stark would live forever, Steve supposed, both as Tony Stark and as Iron Man. No one would dare to forget so easily the man who saved the entire island of Manhattan, New York, and maybe even the world. He had already seen the memorials all over the city, and a huge citizen-created monument in front of Stark Tower. Everyone was putting aside their memories of Tony Stark's wrongs ("In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret SHEILD has tried to hide"), and remembering the man (hero) who, honestly, saved the world.
What a shame, what a shame,
To judge a life that you can't change
The choir sings, the church bells ring
So, won't you give this man his wings?
What a shame to have to beg you to
See we're not all the same
What a shame, what a shame
'Cause we're not all the same
What a shame, what a shame
'Cause we're not all the same
By the time the song finished, Steve's thoughts were all muddled into one big mess, yet one thing was still crystal-clear. He'd been wrong all along – Pepper and her song had shown him that, if not in a roundabout manner. St – Tony wasn't a selfish prick – at least not when it counted. He had his demons, and they changed him and affected his attitude, but didn't they all have their own problems? S – Tony had done what no one thought he would do – until he did it: he made the sacrifice play, right when it counted. And he'd died for it.
He'd never even tried to get to know the man, and even now, with him dead, he uncovered more layers to him than he'd ever known existed. He never tried to befriend the stoic, sardonic man who pushed all of his buttons and drove everyone to anger, just with his words. He'd never tried to make it right between them, to mend the rift that had to have existed between them after their argument in the helicarrier.
Now, it was too late. Tony Stark lay in a dark oak-wood box, the light from his arc reactor – and his eyes – finally extinguished.
What a shame.
So, reviews are marvelous.
I must thank my wonderful beta, RemyMckwakker, for looking this over multiple times while it went through revisions. Hopefully you like how it turned out, Remy! :)
