One more month exactly people! Thank you to those you reviewed/favorited/followed. Your support is much appreciated!

And now let's see what Tony was up to...

-Cat

Warning: There is a mention of suicide in this chapter. No intent, but just so you are aware.

Part II

"Friday, tell Rhodey I need a ride. Let him know I have a car, he can fly to my coordinates."

Stop for breath. He counted up to ten. Inhale. Then he counted back down to one. Exhale.

"Colonel Rhodes is on his way," sounded Friday's voice from the speakers.

He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. "Thanks, Fry." God, he was tired. So tired he could barely think straight. So tired that he knew he couldn't drive any further. His body was… not as functional as it once was. Broken. And he was still an hour away from the Compound.

The car interior smelled of leather and faint cigar smoke. It was chilly outside, but he turned off the engine, allowing the cold to creep in. He was parked on the cracked pavement of a gas station somewhere north of the city. It seemed abandoned, even though the lights still flickered with harsh, artificial brightness. Plastic yellow bags covered the pumps. Trying to stop himself from passing out, he numbly counted the dirty cars that passed on the street.

He must have drifted though, because the whine of repulsors and the thud of iron on pavement jolted him awake. Relief flooded into his limbs. What did he do to deserve Rhodey? He opened the door but remained in the driver's seat. Rhodes retracted his suit and hurried around to him.

"Hey, Tones," he said, scanning Tony with a practiced eye. He paused momentarily on the bruise that was starting to form on his left cheek.

"Hey Jim," Tony replied with a sleep-sloppy grin. Really, he had done a superb job on Rhodey's legs.

"You drunk?"

"No," Tony murmured honestly. "Just… too tired to make it home."

"Okay," said Rhodey. And just like that he believed him. Tony was grateful that he didn't have to insist or explain. Instead, Rhodey hauled him up bodily, then slung one of his arms over his shoulders (Was it that obvious that the wound was bothering him?). He helped Tony around the car to the passenger side. Tony slumped down into the seat and fumbled with the buckle. Rhodey left him to it, instructing his suit to return to the compound. Then, he slid easily into the driver's side.

Wordlessly, Rhodey handed him two pills and a bottled water. Tony accepted them with a grunt, swallowing them almost desperately as they pulled out of the desolate gas station.

They sped through the night in silence, the throbbing in his side subsiding to a numb ache aided by the painkillers. The ride passed in a nightmareish, technicolor pulse of waking and being trapped in half-dreams. Tony drifted, then lurched back to the world, over and over. Once he heard Rhodes speaking softly with someone on the phone. "He's fine, just completely exhausted. No, I don't know where he was, I wanted to let him sleep. Yep, he's all yours when we get back." That was ominous. "I'll tell the others to back off until he's gotten some rest."

"Pepper?" Tony asked when he hung up.

"Pepper," confirmed Rhodey. Tony relaxed. He had not really thought about the repercussions of him disappearing suddenly that day. Nor had he really cared at the time. But he should have told Pepper and Rhodey. He decided to voice this aloud, to which Rhodey replied, "Yeah maybe. You got everyone's heart rates up today, that's for sure. Honestly though, I think Pepper and I are hardened by experience. You scared Rogers more than either of us."

"Did I?" Tony murmured.

"Hard to believe, but I guess he forgot some of your quirks in the last two years."

"Quirks."

Rhodey gave him an exasperated look in the dark. "Yeah. Quirks." He didn't elaborate further, but Rhodey was not one to waste words if he didn't need to. Tony could read his irritation and worry in his tone. Rhodey cared. That reminder felt nice. But Steve…

"So Rogers was worried then?" Tony asked with a smirk.

"I'm sure he'll tell you all about it," Rhodey predicted wryly.

The smirk slipped from Tony's face. "Great," he muttered. Last thing he needed was a lecture from Captain Righteous himself. After the day he'd had…

Rhodey glanced at him again, his wrinkled brow visible in the headlights of an oncoming car. "I know you two talked a little. Do you forgive him?"

That was a loaded question that Tony was too exhausted to unpack. "I don't know," he settled on, staring out windshield. Steve was… a whole different kind of problem. Tony would like to pretend their issues didn't exist (they had much bigger problems to deal with), but there was something… inescapable about Steve. He was just so solidly there. Even when he tried to pass unnoticed, he took up space. Steve was a universal constant. Steve was fundamental. Despite his taste for excess and luxury, Tony liked fundamentals. Any engineer worth his salt did. They were reliable things, the purest forms of science.

Tony just didn't know if he liked Steve.

("He's my friend." "So was I.")

Rhodey had fallen silent, and Tony didn't break it. Instead, he concentrated on not feeling so much. He kept his eyes closed against the darkness until they reached the compound, lit up with floodlights.

Pepper was waiting in the garage, immaculate in her t-shirt and pajama pants. But as Tony got out of the car he noticed the redness of her eyes. He quirked a half-smile and murmured, "A few tears for your long-lost fiance?"

She rolled her eyes and helped him gently from the car. "No tears," she said quietly. Her fingers delicately brushed his bruised cheek. "I knew whatever you were doing had to be important. Let's go to bed. Thanks, Jim."

"No problem. You good Tones?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm good."

Tony let her lead him through the compound to their private quarters (they didn't run into anyone, thank God). He kept his gaze fixed on the mesmerizing shimmer of her sleek ponytail until they were safely in their bedroom. She sat him down on the mattress, then got in on her side and leaned against the headboard. She knew that he would be reluctant to sleep. So he prepared for the inevitable question. The one thing he did not want to think about above all else, including Rogers.

"Where were you today, Tony?"

"Where. Were. You?"

The question stole the air straight out of Tony's lungs. Where was he? He was back on that god-damned ship, sucking on a void, oxygen wilting away from his blood. But he had to answer. He slammed back to earth.

"I'm sorry," he said. He hated the excuse as soon as it left his mouth. "I came here as soon as I could."

"It's been months."

"I know."

"No you don't," hissed the beautiful, distraught woman before him. "You can't even imagine-" But she choked, covered her mouth with a trembling hand, eyes wet behind large glasses.

"May-"

He did not see the blow coming, but he wasn't surprised by the stinging in his cheek. Stars bloomed in his vision and he blinked hard against them. She had a good swing. He shifted his jaw. "I deserved that."

Then May was suddenly sobbing in his arms in the dirty hallway. Uncertain, he clumsily guided her back inside and shut the door. It was dark. Electricity was spotty in certain parts of the city. Not enough personnel to man the power plants or maintain the grid. He pushed a pile of half-folded laundry off the couch and lowered her onto it. Then he set down his two bottles and went into the kitchen. The dishes were partially clean too, some neatly stacked in the drying rack, some still in the sink. He chose two glasses and returned to the living room. She was still inconsolable, so he looked around awkwardly, wishing he could be anywhere else, wishing he did not have to be here. If only, if only…

He found a box of Kleenex and placed it in front of her and waited. He'd had plenty of practice, waiting. He spent almost two months in space waiting for rescue. What were a few more minutes? Finally she began to calm down. The waves of sobs softened into hiccups. She dried her face, smearing her make-up. Strands of brown hair were coming loose from her braid and Tony marveled that she had the strength to do her hair and make-up at all. The strength to maintain normalcy in the face of loss. But then, Pepper had done the same thing. While Tony felt like he was falling apart. He took a seat beside May. She stared at him with wide, red eyes.

"You aren't going to hit me again, are you?"

"No," she said hoarsely.

"Drink?"

"Please," she gasped.

He poured her a glass of his finest whiskey. Then poured himself a glass of his finest apple juice. Together they downed them, and he poured another shot. And a third.

"It… it wasn't fair. To hit you."

"Oh it definitely was," Tony mumbled, running his tongue around his mouth, wishing the sickly sweetness of apple juice was burning his insides to nothing instead. But he'd promised Pepper. Not now, while he was on a cocktail of pain medication and antibiotics and gods knew what else.

"I know the reports. You returned to earth two weeks ago," she accused, weakly angry once more. "Why didn't you come then?"

"I was indisposed," Tony answered immediately. It was rehearsed, unfeeling.

She was quiet, gulping down another shot like it was oxygen. Her gaze travelled over him again. Could she tell? Did she know that he was too damaged, perhaps, to fight anymore? Then, in a small, shaky voice she said, "I thought he might be with you."

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered again, stunned. He hadn't even considered… but of course she would think that. Hope was a bastard.

"I thought he would come here, after I heard the news. I waited… I… I tried to call. Lines were down. I-I kept his room ready…" She waved a hand in the direction of his room. Tony resisted the urge to look. Then he was caught by her stare again, heavy with grief and blame. "Tell me."

"May, I-"

"Tell me," she ordered steadily.

His mouth opened and closed. Anything he'd prepared evaporated. He swallowed hard. He wanted to lie, but his quick-silver tongue was like lead.

"Was it just like everyone else?" she demanded desperately.

"He knew." It slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he spare her this? But it was like he was crumbling under its gravity. He hadn't even been able to tell Pepper. "It was his-his spider-thing. He felt it coming."

"Was he scared?" whispered May to her glass of whiskey.

Tony nodded shortly.

"Was it fast?"

"I was with him," he said instead, trying to walk back the harshness of the truth. "He wasn't alone."

Her eyes squeezed shut. "He shouldn't have been there."

"No," Tony agreed softly. "He shouldn't have."

By her solid silence, he knew she would blame him for a long time. They said nothing more, drinking whiskey and apple juice until May's eyes started to droop. Tony waited until she was snoring on the couch, then covered her with the throw that was draped over the back. He washed the two glasses and dried them. Peter's room was just visible through the cracked door, but he stayed away, not needing a reminder of just how innocent the blood on his hands was. He lost himself in the act of doing the rest of the dishes, a chore he'd rarely needed to perform in his life. One May had been doing daily, a routine to block out her loss. Or in the hope that Peter would come back. He wondered if she would continue doing the dishes now.

He wondered if one day she might find comfort in the knowledge that Peter wasn't alone. He never would. He could still feel Peter dissolving like sand in his fingers.

He could feel it even now. Pepper was silent beside him in the king-sized bed, absorbing his quick bursts of explanation.

"I offered for her to come stay at the compound. That neighborhood isn't as safe as it used to be. She said no."

"You can't control what other people choose, Tony," said Pepper gently.

"I know, I just-I just want to do something to fix all of this crap!" He did not notice that his volume was increasing. "I knew this was coming Pep! I. Knew. And I couldn't stop… I couldn't stop it from happening, I couldn't stop Peter-It's my fault." The word was sharp enough to crack marble. He swallowed. His throat hurt. He clenched his jaw tighter and blinked hard.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"Yes," Tony replied. It wouldn't matter, since he wouldn't believe her. Pepper knew this just as well as he did, but her eyes still said it all. It's not your fault, Tony. Please stop blaming yourself.

"Did telling May about Peter help?" she asked out loud.

"It was the only thing I could do," he rasped. It had not helped him, but maybe… maybe it would help May. She could grieve now. And even, eventually, move on. Tony would not. He knew he wouldn't from the moment he left Peter's ashes on Titan.

He needed to figure out how to deal with that, and soon. He couldn't keep drifting through the compound like a ghost. He was supposed to be made of iron, right?

"Thanos is still out there," said Tony.

"He is."

"I couldn't stop it," Tony whispered. I couldn't save him.

"No one could," Pepper said. Then she asked what no one else had dared since he woke. "Are you going to go after him?"

He couldn't answer. Her hands, paradoxically tender and strong, went to his tense shoulders and she pulled him back so that his head was resting on her abdomen. Her fingers carded through his hair and he felt her lips warm against the top of his head. Tony lay still, feeling her heartbeat and imagining that he could detect the tiny flutter of the second.

No one knew but the two of them and Rhodes. But she was beginning to show. Tony was paralyzed between elated and devastated. Just when he thought he had nothing more to lose, he had everything to lose. How could he leave? But how could he stay? Thanos knew him. And if there was a chance that he could save what he failed to protect in the first place…

"I love you, Tony Stark," Pepper murmured into his scalp with warm breath. The words melted into his skull and over his sputtering brain like cool water. "And I know that you will figure out what you are supposed to do."

When Tony jerked awake, it was still night. It was years of practice that kept him from gasping out loud. His jaw was clenched so hard, he felt around with his tongue to check if any molars had cracked. Breathing deeply through his nose, he took stock of reality. Pepper was a warm body beside him, buried deep under the comforter. His fingers brushed the silk of her night-dress (instead of soft ashes on orange stone), then he slid from the bed with practiced ease despite the stiffness in his torso. He couldn't stay in bed. But instead of leading him to his workshop, his feet went up, up flights of stairs until he was on the roof.

Space expanded above his head into infinity. Or at least he knew this objectively. A stratus of gray particles obscured everything.

("Saw them all dead, Nick. The whole world too.")

Sometimes he still felt the bitter adrenaline in his mouth, the nuclear missile slipping from his grasp. Still watched as its inertia carried it onward into the mothership of the Chitauri.

("Watched my friends die. You'd think that'd be as bad as it gets, right? Nope. That wasn't the worst part."

"The worst part, is that you didn't.")

His worst fear had come true. ("Mr. Stark. I don't feel-") Despite everything he'd done, every desperate attempt ended in failure. Ultron. The Accords. ("The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not."). Ironic. The Futurist who couldn't seem to escape his past.

Who cared if he was right?

He had failed again. A fatal error.

He didn't feel vindicated. He felt empty.

Strange should have let him die. And now half the universe had paid the price. He wove around the AC units and pipes to the edge of the roof and settled there, against the cold metal railing. Tony tilted his head back and pretended he could see the stars. He'd hated them for so long, and now he'd give anything to see beyond the dust.

("Don't waste your life.")

That was how Natasha found him, still leaning on the rail and looking up at the smothered stars. In the distance, the sky was just starting to lighten.

"Steve's not okay," she said as a greeting.

"You came all the way up here at the ass-crack of dawn to tell me that?" She looked at him, stone-faced. God, he wished she would leave. He was too fragile and she was harder after Thanos. But she remained, a raw, shadowy figure on the roof. "I know," Tony said finally. "Everyone in this goddamn compound is not okay, including you. Why should he be an exception? And how did you even know I was here?"

"I followed you."

"You decided to spy on me instead of sleep?"

"We take shifts."

"Haha," Tony deadpanned.

"Keep pulling stunts like you did yesterday and we will."

She moved closer and Tony watched her out of the corner of his eye. The sky was a strange, middling gray behind her. A slight breeze picked up the ends of her hair as she leaned on the metal rails at the roof's edge. He observed without trying to look like he was staring. She'd dyed it again, red that tapered into blond like a flame. When had she done that? Had it been like that when she was lurking in the shadows of his hospital room? Or watching from afar while he limped between his and Pepper's bedroom and his workshop?

To be honest, he had not been paying attention.

"I came up here at the ass-crack of dawn because you aren't okay either," she said eventually.

Tony snorted, even though it wasn't funny. "I did not survive insane titans, alien planets, and the fucking end of the world as we know it just to hurl myself off the roof."

"Still, I had to check."

Considering his numb attitude of the past week, Tony could not blame her for checking. Hell, he hadn't even noticed she'd dyed her hair. But old defense mechanisms made him bite out, "According to you I'm incapable of letting go of my ego and somehow I doubt jumping fits into-"

"I shouldn't have said that. You weren't just thinking of yourself and I should have known. I'm sorry."

Her apology just made him feel a little more empty. Apologizing was all anyone seemed to do these days. "It's fine," he muttered. "Bygones and all that. It was years ago anyway."

"We shouldn't have let it go that long."

"That's on all of us," Tony stated, unsure where this conversation was going. "I never called."

"And neither did we," Natasha stated bluntly.

"Right."

"We left you to deal with the fall-out alone. We watched you shoulder it all, then pull together the scraps. Vision and Rhodes." Tony thought of all the rooms that had been scraped empty by their 'civil war.' The silence was often too painful to remain in the compound long. Why was she dragging all of this up now? Didn't she understand he was barely coping with their current situation? Then, without warning, she added, "And the kid. Spiderman."

"He wasn't an Avenger then," Tony corrected. His voice came out steady, even though he'd flinched when she mentioned him.

("Kid, you're an Avenger now.")

"No. But he was someone, wasn't he?" she asked, more gentle than he'd ever heard her.

It was the last thing he wanted. The great Tony Stark, undone by a question. But he was already spent by his drive to Queens, his conversation with May, the bone-wrenching grief he'd been ignoring for days, the uncertainty of what to do next. He was grateful that Natasha stayed where she was when he sucked in a breath and screwed his eyes tight. He was leaning heavily on the rail now, and his hands were clenched and shaking in his hair. I'm sorry, he'd said. Peter had said, I'm sorry.

Somehow, he ended up sitting on the gravelly surface of the roof. His back was leaning against something hard and his hand was over his mouth. He knew he was crying. He could feel the cold wetness on his cheeks and the pain in his throat had reached a crescendo.

It took a long time to pull himself back together. When he finally did, Natasha was still there, only now she was seated next to him, staring straight ahead.

"He died in my arms," he told her, roughly. She surprised him by taking his hand tightly, unblinking. Maybe it was the unexpected contact, or that his defenses were already destroyed. Or maybe it was just that she had not left him alone up here. So he whispered, "Pepper's pregnant."

She squeezed his hand even tighter.

That's when Tony realized. "You knew."

"I suspected," she replied. "She was sick a lot and it wasn't just exhaustion or grief."

"Thank you," Tony said softly. When Natasha shot him a confused glance, he added, "For being with her. While I was gone. She told me… she told me it wasn't easy."

Natasha sighed heavily. "No. No it wasn't." She didn't mention the riots, the hunger, the climate changes, the stock market crash, the catastrophic effects on governments around the globe. Tony already knew this, had hypothesized it in the dying spaceship, crunching numbers and figures to keep his mind from spiraling. Not the best coping mechanism, but it kept him sane. And when he'd returned, he found that Pepper had taken care of it, sending aid all over the world, attending emergency committee meetings at the U.N. and the Capitol. She told him she was pregnant the day he woke from the fever.

He discovered that it was possible to rejoice and have a panic attack at the same time. That heartbreak could occupy the same space as joy and terror.

His kid disintegrated in his arms.

His kid was alive, hidden and growing.

Hope wasn't really something he'd cultivated in the past. Tony Stark was a resilient, stubborn pain-in-the-ass who was terrified of the future and desperate to stop it. He'd relied on Fear over Hope. Then he'd had his lesson in Despair on a faraway planet.

But something was stirring stronger now, deep in Tony's chest, and for once, it was not Fear. "Thanos is going to wish he'd killed me."

"He's going to wish he'd killed us," said Natasha. Us. Tony thought of Bruce, who'd single-handedly brought him back to the land of the living. Thor, off-planet somewhere, rallying his people, but with a promise to return. Clint, who hadn't left the practice rooms in days, burying his sword into dummies with eyes hard as flint.

Steve.

"We aren't leaving this time, Tony."

He could feel Natasha's pulse under his fingers.

"Well then…" he murmured. "It's time to get to work."

A/N: Reviews are welcome! (Read: Feed me!). The final installment of Atlas will be coming soon... (Tony and Steve will actually talk)