Tony didn't go up to meet Duo when he got back with Wilson. He didn't go up for dinner, didn't go to meet his son's friend—he wasn't really sure he wanted to meet Chang Wufei face-to-face anyway, given how their last conversation had gone—didn't want to talk to him. Not right now. Not until he understood how he felt about… everything.
In a rare show of compassion, Cap hadn't nagged or gone all righteous Paragon of Good Behavior on him about Duo being a Gundam pilot. He was pretty sure part of it was the fact that he did seem to be trying to be better recently—not that Tony knew what to do with a Cap who wasn't looking to make everything Tony said an argument anymore—but he seemed almost as at a loss for how to process Tony's son, the Gundam pilot as Tony was.
Deep diving into everything he could about the pilots, especially everything he could about Duo specifically, had been at turns horrifying and sickening. Sometimes because of the things attributed to the Gundam, and thus, to Duo. Sometimes because of the things he found.
There were still hate groups out there, still OZ and White Fang and Alliance who utterly despised the pilots. They shared stories in forums about them, shared fantasies of the kinds of things they'd like to do to them, and they hated 01 and 02 most of all. Not surprising given that of the one hundred thousand or so military deaths attributed to the pilots, two-thirds of them were attributed to those Gundams. Nearly a full third were attributed to 02 directly.
Tony may have given all of them a whole bunch of malware and viruses, because the things these angry veterans talked about? They made him physically ill. Which meant that Duo hadn't been kidding when he said that people still wanted to kill him for who he was. Which meant that he'd had good reasons not to just tell Tony that he was a Gundam pilot.
It didn't make it hurt less that Duo didn't trust him—which was so unutterably stupid, Tony would never, ever speak it aloud to anyone—but… even when he didn't like Howard, he liked to think he would have trusted him…
…Or maybe that was wishful thinking and rose-colored memories of a life he never led. He loved his parents both, but he honestly doesn't know if he really trusted his father to be anything but invested in himself first and foremost. Tony was always a distant, disappointing second in Howard Stark's world.
Given that history, he shouldn't expect Duo to trust him, to share with him. He didn't have to be a mind reader or particularly good with people to see that Duo didn't trust easily. He had, from what little Tony knew about his past, more than ample reason to be wary. It still hurt.
Tony picked at it—because that was what he was and what he did and asking him not to poke at something was an effort in futility—wondering what he would have done if he knew sooner. Would it have changed anything? Would he have welcomed Duo so readily if he had known before he met Duo? He wanted to believe it wouldn't have changed anything; he honestly doesn't know if he was lying to himself when he thought so.
Deep down, though, it felt personal. It wasn't that Duo just didn't trust and saw no special reason to trust Tony—no, of course nothing that simple. He didn't trust Tony, not because he was paranoid, but because Tony was such a colossal fuckup. His history of being one of the world's greatest fuckups was well-documented and attested to. Tony was the Merchant of Death—who in their right mind would want to trust someone who had been so naïve? So obtuse?
Hell, the Gundams themselves had saved his ass in Sokovia. He didn't know if he wanted to be able to ask Duo about that.
Duo was a hero. There weren't a lot of critical, thoughtful, and not grossly biased sources about the Eve Wars yet—it was simply still too close, too fresh—but the few he could find that weren't obviously butt-sore losers, were very clear that the Gundams, regardless of their terrorist beginnings, were heroes.
From dealer of death to international hero, equally loved and despised. Like father, like son. Tony wished he could laugh at it. He thought if he started, he might not stop screaming.
Duo was a hero, but to the people who hated him, he was still a villain. Tony wanted to just toss them all in the sour grapes basket, but given the terror the Gundams had inflicted on their enemies, it was hard not to be a little sympathetic. Mixed in with stomach-churning fantasies of how they wanted to punish the pilots, were testimonials, personal accounts. Tony desperately wanted to just ignore those accounts, those testimonies, but they sounded so much like Yinsen…
It wasn't the same. Tony knew that the Gundams didn't target random, innocent people. They weren't trying to suppress or control or terrorize the people at large, just the military establishments. Official tallies only attributed some fifteen thousand civilian deaths to Gundam-related incidents, and that was including the Colony 06E destruction, which accounted for over a quarter of the total civilian death count.
He wished it made him feel better that he was absolutely sure that Duo hadn't been piloting the 01 suit when it fired on a colony. It didn't, not really. Because it was a Gundam pilot in that suit, and Duo knew who it was and was still, almost certainly, friends with them. Would defend them.
Trying to compare it to the Ultron mess didn't help. The damage scales weren't comparable, and neither were the death totals. Besides, Tony had done everything in his power to make up for that particular fuckup. He had taken responsibility for his actions and their fallout. Since the pilots weren't publicly known, they couldn't make public apologies. They couldn't try to explain. They couldn't really make amends.
Tony leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling as if he could see through the floors up to the main living space, where Duo probably was still playing nice with everyone. When a knock came at the glass wall, he startled so badly he almost landed on his ass. Natasha stood there, watching with that perfect poker face of hers.
"Let her in, FRI," Tony said, coughing to clear his throat.
The door opened without FRIDAY even acknowledging the command, which was unusual and probably a sign of how smart she was getting—but never as smart as JARVIS—and how obviously out of sorts Tony was.
Natasha came in, glancing around, taking in the Gundam battles still up on screens.
Tony made a sweeping gesture to clear them all, "What's up, buttercup?" he asked, forcing levity into his voice.
Giving him a glare that told Tony she didn't appreciate his attempt to hide from her, Natasha said, "Duo and Sam are back."
"I know," he said. Which was stupid. She knew he knew. No one came or went from the Tower—at least their floors—that Tony didn't know about. She was stating the obvious to give him plausible deniability as to why he hadn't gone upstairs to see his son, and he had kicked that gift horse straight in its fucking mouth.
"Are you going to stop hiding down here and come see him or should I give him your regrets?" she asked in a tone remarkably similar to the one she'd used when she was pretending to be his assistant, Natalie. He was pretty certain that wasn't an accident.
Going on the offensive, Tony asked, "Why do you want me to go see him?" He was curious. He didn't think Natasha actually liked Duo.
"Do you want to tell me why you've been down here watching Gundam footage for four days now?" she asked in return.
"Ah ah," Tony said, pointing at her. "I asked first."
She sighed but said, "Because for over a year you were utterly obsessed with finding your son. Now you have him, and he's here, and you don't even want to see him. You're burying yourself in a Gundam obsession again. If I didn't know better, I'd say you thought Duo was a Gundam pilot."
Tony has no idea what's on his face, but whatever it is, Natasha can read it because she says something in Russian that he doesn't catch, and then adds, "Really?"
"Cap didn't tell you?" he asked.
"No," she said, obviously irritated. "Neither did Vision." She took one visibly deep breath, then her features smoothed out and all of her agitation vanished. It was a neat trick. Tony should really ask her how she did that some time. "Okay, so Duo was a Gundam pilot," she said the words as if ticking off known risks before a mission. "What does that mean to you?"
That was the question, wasn't it? What did it mean to Tony?
"I don't know," he admitted in a soft voice that barely carried across the room. "I don't know what it means."
"I didn't ask you what it means, I asked you what it means to you," she said, staring hard at him. She wasn't going to let him flinch, wasn't going to let him hide from this. He wasn't sure if he hated her or loved her for it. Maybe neither. Maybe he just trusted her for it.
"It means that we're both horrible killers," Tony said, running a hand over his face.
"You're not," Natasha said. Tony snorted. "You're not a killer, Tony," she repeated, the tiniest bit of softness making it into her voice. "You have killed, yes, but you're not a killer. Not like me. Not like Clint."
"And not like Duo?" he asked, throwing it at her like it was a challenge.
She shrugged. "I knew Duo was a killer," she said.
"Of course you did," Tony says, sighing. "Any particular reason you didn't let me in on that?"
She gave him a flat look.
He opened his mouth to protest that he would have listened, but stopped and thought about it for a nanosecond before trying to fit his foot down his throat instead of merely in his mouth. "Yeah, okay," he conceded. "Stupid question." He wouldn't have accepted any such warning from Natasha, no matter how sure she'd been. He wouldn't have been able to listen to her disparage Duo.
"You gave me and Clint chances here," she pointed out rather than rubbing Tony's concession in his face.
"Yeah, but you two have changed," he said, crossing his arms, dearly wishing he had something at hand to fidget with.
"Who's to say Duo hasn't?"
Tony closed his eyes, remembering the fight in China, matching it with all of the fights he'd seen in historical footage. "He hasn't," he said after a long moment.
"I think you give us more credit for changing than we maybe deserve," Natasha said. He must really look miserable because her voice is downright gentle, nearly apologetic. She walked over to him, leaning against the table next to him, not touching but just being there with him. "Why is he different?" she asked.
"You didn't see him in China," Tony said. "I just… I don't think that's new. He just… he didn't care about trying to save anyone."
"It was Hydra, right?" Natasha asked.
"Yeah," Tony said, "But I don't think he cared that it was Hydra. It was just… I don't think it would have mattered who it was. Yes, Hydra are trash and they're all horrible excuses for human beings or completely brainwashed by propaganda, but… it just seemed…" He sighed, trying to explain it.
"It seemed like business as usual?" Natasha asked.
He wasn't sure it was exactly right, but it was close enough. "Yeah," he said. "And… I don't know what to do with that. How do I talk to him about it? Do I confront him about it? Do I say, 'hey, these are people too, even if they're shitty people. You shouldn't treat them like they're… nothing'?"
"Do we?" she asked, not challenging as much as curious. A question to make him think. Maybe a question to make herself think.
"Do we what?" Tony asked, wanting to be sure before he started chasing that mental bunny down its hole.
"Do we treat Hydra like they're people? Or maybe I should ask if you do. I don't. I limit casualties as much as I can since we're supposed to be the good guys now, but I don't treat them as people. They're just… obstacles."
It was a good way to describe it. "That's how Duo treated them."
Natasha was silent for a moment before asking, "Why is it worse for him to do it than me?"
Why? He knew the answer, and he wasn't proud of it. "Because I wanted my son to be better than that," he said.
"You mean you want him to be better than us," she corrected, still more gentle than he deserved, especially since he just gave her such a backhanded insult.
"Yeah," he said, the words settling in his chest and feeling right. "Yeah, I wanted him to be better."
Pushing off of the table, Natasha chuffs. "Only you would think your son needs to be 'better' than the Avengers. Are you really expecting him to be as morally upstanding as Steve?"
"No!" was Tony's instant response. "No… definitely not, but… I just…"
"You wanted him to be pure. You wanted better for him, for him not to have this kind of life, to make these kinds of decisions, to be familiar and comfortable with the weight of taking a life," she filled in.
"Yes," he said, feeling defeated.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting better for your kid," she told him, still far kinder than the discussion warranted. "But he didn't have better, and he isn't better. So… what are you going to do about it?"
"I guess I just need to talk to him," Tony said, pushing away from the table himself.
"Well, he should still be upstairs waiting, if that's what you want to do," she said, leading the way to the elevator.
"Did I say one word about want? No. I do not want to do it. But I think I need to."
She gave him a reassuring smile, or well, he was sure it was meant to be reassuring, but comfort was not a strength of Natasha's, and it made Tony squirm.
"At least you'll finally get to meet Chang?" she offered, trying to offer a balm.
"Yeah, because that's all this whole thing needed, for me to control my urge to punch the little asshole in the face for keeping what he knew about Duo from me," Tony snarked, feeling a little less untethered with a plan in place. He leaned against the wall as the elevator rode up to the appropriate floor.
One way or another, he had questions that needed answers.