Wow... Can't believe I've finished a third chapter in one day. Guess I really love writing this story... Damn... This chapter is really, really freaking depressing. Get out your tissue boxes! Even though this chapter is so depressing and sad, I'm actually very proud of it. I think i wrote this very well, correct me if I'm wrong. By the end of this chapter you will know exactly why this story has it's name, it will all make sense. I hope you enjoy this chapter, no matter how depressed it may make you, and hope you review to tell me how you think I did. And of course tell me how your crying or how sad and depressed you feel, trust me, I feel you.

Tony sat numbly in the kitchen of Stark tower, staring at the floor as tears streamed down his cheeks. It had been confirmed, they found Pepper's mangled body under the rubble. Pepper was dead. She was gone. He would never see her face again. He had been taken to the hospital and given some meds for the shock, but they did nothing. He had been released to go home, and Clint had persisted at trying to get Tony to spend the night and his place, but Tony refused. Blake lay, sound asleep on Tony's bed, having the crib been destroyed in the attack. Tony couldn't stop thinking that it was his fault, that he sent her in there to her death. He put his face in his hands and started to sob silently. After sitting there, trembling and shaking for a few minutes, he got up, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face in knowledge that they would be replaced by fresh ones. He grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the cupboard and a small glass. He sat back down at the counter and poured some in the glass, drinking it quickly as more tears fell, then having another, then another. He couldn't do it. He kept drinking until he couldn't see, think, or walk straight. He dropped the glass after having far to many and groaned as it shattered on the ground. He stumbled over to the couch and fell back on it with another groan, putting a hand to his already aching head. He looked threw blurry vision at the lights, they hurt his head too. Tony got up off the couch, swaying on his feet, and walked into the bathroom. He lifted the lid and unzipped his pants, but missed completely, then stumbled back to the couch. He tripped on the coffee table leg and fell, thankfully on the couch. He groaned once more, and passed out into darkness.

'"TONY!" He heard her scream. He saw himself standing there in the house with her. He felt fear pumping through his veins, but he couldn't move. He couldn't save her. He watched as she died and screamed her name at the top of his lungs.'

Then he woke. He wasn't sure if he had really screamed in his sleep or if it was just the dream, but the baby was crying. His head was pounding and aching, and the light tripled the pain. He stood up and tried to fight off the dizziness in his head and walk properly, but it was no use. He walked into his room and nearly tripped on the edge of the bed but caught himself. "B-Blake... Shh... It's o-ok..." He mumbled as he picked the baby up and rocked him the best he could. Soon Blake fell back asleep and Tony put him back down on the bed then squinted at the clock. It was five something in the morning. He groaned as a wave of nausea hit him and stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom. The toilet lid was still up and he fell to his knees by it, vomiting up the contents of his stomach. He had to puke three times before it was all out of his intoxicated system. He coughed and wiped his mouth, then washed it out at the sink as well as running a warm, wet cloth over his mouth and hands. 'This is my fault... I... I sent her to her death... I killed her...' His own voice rang out in his head and more tears spilled down his cheeks. He walked back into his room and looked at Blake, seeing her face in his. He shook his head violently and closed his eyes, then looked at him again and realized exactly what he was looking at. He was looking at a motherless child, that had a father with serious issues. He was looking at a baby boy, that he had taken the mother from. Maybe not directly, but it was still his fault. He fell to his knees in a fit of sobs again, then wiped his eyes and forced himself to his feet. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face seeing Blake every day and seeing Pepper. Couldn't face having to tell Blake why he didn't have a mother when he got older. Couldn't face what he had done. Tony picked up the baby in his arms as another tear fell and stared at him for a minute, making his decision. He couldn't do it. He held Blake tightly as he stumbled to the elevator and pressed the bottom floor. He exited the elevator and got to his suit in the lower garage. Tony put Blake down and stepped in, then picked Blake back up. "J-Jarvis... Autopilot to Barton's place." He choked out. It was a good thing they were close and he had autopilot on the suit. His last remaining suit, 'Mark 42'.

"Yes, sir." Jarvis said and the suit took off.

Soon enough, it was six am and Tony was standing at the Barton family's door with Blake in his arms and his suit behind him. He knocked twice and after a few minutes Clint, in his boxers, opened the door. "What the he-Tony?" He said as his vision cleared. He had just woken up. He looked Tony over, taking in every detail he could. Tony was wearing the same dirty clothes as yesterday, with some vomit stained on his shirt. He pants were sagging down and his zipper was still unzipped, which Clint quickly averted his eyes away from. Tony had bags and lines under his eyes and tears streaking down his face, as well as Blake in his arms. "C-Come in..." Clint said worriedly, Tony stumbled in and Clint shut the door behind him. "What happened to you?" He asked in a concerned tone.

"What's going on?" Natasha asked as she walked out of their room in her nightgown. Before Natasha could fully look Tony over like Clint did, Barton stepped forward in front of Tony to take the baby, and before he did quickly, and awkwardly zipped up Tony's pants for him. He walked over to Natasha, baby in hand, and handed him over to her. She looked at Clint in question.

"I don't know..." He whispered and walked back over to Tony, helping him sit and the table, then getting him some water to help sober him. Once he had a few glasses he started to speak softly. Pain and sadness, grief and despair, were all obvious in his voice as well as his eyes.

"I... I couldn't take it last night... I..." He shook his head as more tears fell. "I got drunk... Badly... When I woke up..." He paused and bit his lip for a moment. "I-I realized... I can't do it. I can't see Blake everyday and see her... I can't see him everyday and know it's my fault he doesn't have a mother... I... I-I c-can't..." He said in a shaky voice and nearly started sobbing again.

"Hey... Hey it's gonna be ok, just keep going." Clint murmured in a soft tone, masking the sadness in his voice although it was there, in his eyes.

"I can't... I can't do it... I can't face whats happened, I can't do that to him... or myself... I-I'm going to ask you a huge favor..." He said and Clint nodded for him to go on. "Raise him... Raise Blake for me... As your own. Raise him as Blake Barton. Let him believe you are his true parents by blood, let him believe Rosie is his sister by blood. Let him believe he isn't related to me. I-I can't put this on him... I can't take it... I'm a mess... I won't be able to raise him properly..." He started to cry again. "B-But I can't have him know... C-Can't have him share this pain... Or be disappointed... I... I can't..." He choked out and put his face in his hands again. Clint looked over Natasha, watching tears fall down her cheeks as she cradled Blake close to her. Clint looked back to Tony. He had to do this for him... There was no other way, even if it didn't seem right.

"O-Ok... I'll do this for you." He said as he felt a tear fall down his own cheek. This baby was now his to take care of. He was now Blake Barton. The life this baby was going to have before this tragedy was gone, and was now to be replaced by, A Life of Lies.