Disclaimer: I own nothing in the MCU or anything drawn from the comics. Unfortunately. Lol. All characters belong to the amazing people over at Marvel! I'm just playing with them for a little bit. I also don't own the lines used from Captain America: Civil War.
Summary: Homecoming AU. "I swear..." he gasped out between his sobs. "I... I didn't kill Mr. Stark." When the argument after the ferry incident goes horribly awry, Tony is missing and presumed dead, and Spider-Man is suspect number one. Peter believes his mentor is still alive out there, but he'll need help to find and save Tony from who truly wants him dead in time.
Author's Note: Hey, guys! As always, thanks for your reviews, favorites, and follows! Much appreciated, they keep me going! :-) I don't have too much to say this time around following that, er... rather evil ending (other than expect anything as we continue here). So, we'll just continue on, shall we?
Chapter 16– Iron Requiem
"We start the top of the hour with breaking news out of Manhattan. The search for Tony Stark has reached its tragic conclusion.
"As we've been reporting on for the past few days, Stark was last seen at the New York Harbor near the Staten Island ferry port after having rescued passengers aboard a sinking Staten Island Ferry, speaking with the masked vigilante known as Spider-Man. Eyewitnesses claim the two were involved in some sort of heated argument before Spider-Man fled the scene shortly before an explosion ripped the building they were standing on apart. There have been a range of reports on the cause of this incident, from a gas leak to an attack by Spider-Man as the cause for the blaze. The cause is still unknown, though eyewitnesses believe that Spider-Man is to blame.
"The blaze is more controlled now than earlier in the week, leading New York's finest to start clean-up efforts around the harbor. Volunteer efforts, led by Avengers Colonel James Rhodes and Vision, began this evening. It was these efforts that led to the discovery of Stark.
"Hundreds of protesters and supporters have been keeping vigil at the site, hopeful for Stark's safe return. However, tonight, Stark's body was uncovered in the rubble, and hopes that he had somehow escaped from the explosion have turned to mourning. Cause of death is yet to be determined.
"Memorial service and funeral dates will be announced as plans are made.
"Both Rhodes and Vision have declined our request for comment.
"Due to eyewitness reports, a warrant will be released for Spider-Man's arrest in connection with Stark's death. Investigators want him brought in for questioning as soon as possible. If anyone knows anything about his whereabouts or anything that could lead to his arrest to get him off the streets, we ask you to contact local police.
"Stark, known for being one of the world's most eccentric billionaires, is perhaps best known for donning the Iron Man suit to help keep New York, and the world, safe as part of the Avengers Initiative. Though he is also well-known for his generous contributions to charities across the planet, his groundbreaking work and investment in the newest technological advances through his company known as Stark Industries, and for starting his own aid and relief fund for war-torn and impoverished nations, as well as areas hit by disasters. Tonight, our hearts go out to all of his friends, loved ones, and those whose lives he's impacted in the wake of this tragedy.
"He will be sorely missed.
"Rest in peace, Iron Man. Thank you for all you have done to protect us and to make this world a better, safer place for everyone."
Clint perched on the edge of the landing pad at the top of the Tower, his sharp gaze sweeping over the bright lights of the still bustling city far beneath him. The gentle night breeze brushed against his cheek as he raised his eyes to rest on the harbor, where black smoke still billowed toward the dark sky. Sirens echoed faintly in his ears.
The past couple hours... ever since Stark had been discovered in the rubble... had been surreal. Almost dream-like, a nightmare, since it just didn't feel real. How could it be when one of their own wasn't coming back?
The archer's hand curled into a fist. Stark was someone he didn't necessarily get along with or see eye to eye with all of the time. Probably most of the time, if he were being honest with himself. Hell, the other man's ego had been more than aggravating on a good day, but he'd gotten better, more mellowed out, over the years, he had to admit that. He had even started to become someone he considered to be a good friend.
Though no matter what, Stark was one of their own...
Yes, they were on different sides when it came to the bullshit surrounding the Sokovia Accords. Sure, he agreed with the premise of needing some sort of check on them from time to time. They'd caused a lot of destruction over the years... innocent lives had unfortunately gotten caught in the crossfire... as they'd tried to save the world. He had a family; he understood the need and want to keep as many people out of harm's way as possible.
But he also knew the unfortunate reality was that they couldn't save everyone. There would always be destruction. There would always, regrettably, be lives lost that shouldn't be. And maybe he was jaded at the system due to his less than ideal upbringing when said system that was supposed to protect him and his older brother failed them, and due to his time being groomed and trained by a bunch of criminals, but he didn't trust Secretary of State Ross or what the government decided what constituted as a threat big enough for them to intervene in and decide when they could act. He'd had a hard enough time trusting S.H.I.E.L.D. when Nick Fury had first made him the offer to join. He knew well how easy it was for an organization of any kind acting in what it felt was the best interest for the common good to be corrupted, and the matter of the Accords could be no different. Plus, if some calamity happened and all of their hands were tied when they were needed the most, the destruction and innocent lives lost that followed would be on them.
No matter what, no matter which way he looked at it, he agreed with Steve. The safest hands were still their own. It's why he'd set aside his retirement he'd hoped for the last time... to help the Captain when he'd called on him.
Though Stark was stubborn... almost too stubborn for his own good sometimes. Even though he understood the billionaire's position, he just wished that everyone involved in the dispute could have worked out this issue like the adults they were. It would have saved them a lot of headache. He never should have retired, no matter how much he felt it was the right choice at the time after the birth of his third child. And after that speedy, sarcastic kid had died to save his life in Sokovia...
Clint took a deep breath and set his jaw, trying to push those thoughts aside. He couldn't let himself go back there, not at the moment. He couldn't allow the thoughts that it should have been him instead, that the kid shouldn't have given his own life in his place, that the kid should be enjoying the hopefully many years he would have had before him with his sister. The archer knew he'd lived his life, he'd accomplished things he never thought he would have, though those things were everything he'd ever wanted. The kid should have had that chance to live his life. He himself had found redemption after the criminal lifestyle he used to lead, the kid should have had the same opportunity to turn his life around and find his own way after all that Hydra had put him through.
He'd never stopped believing that the Quinjet bullets had shot down the wrong person in Sokovia that day. And he never would.
But Stark...
He was one of their own, too. One of the good ones. One who'd also had the opportunity to turn his life around and had done so successfully. And no matter what, no matter how often the billionaire had gotten under his skin or had gotten on his very last nerve, he hadn't deserved this. There was more to be done with his life, more contributions to be made, more love and happiness to be found. He knew Stark wouldn't have given up without a fight, he'd had too much to live for. Though even the great Tony Stark never could have survived that explosion, not without a suit at the very least.
Though he also had to admit that Stark had been... different ever since the matter of the Accords had ripped the Avengers apart. But who was he kidding? The cracks, the divisions, between them all had always been there; hidden, because on the surface, they were an effective and efficient team when the world needed them to be. But they weren't a team. Not yet. They hadn't figured that part out yet, not totally. All they'd needed was the right push to break them apart. And Ross had dropped that right into their laps with the Accords.
Stark and Steve had always had their issues seeing eye to eye and being on the same page, that much had been clear from the beginning. He really wasn't surprised that they'd stood on opposite sides when it came to the Accords. There was a time, the archer remembered, where he and the rest of the Avengers had wondered if they'd ever be able to coexist on the same team. But they had. They'd come to trust each other. Until that had been shattered in Siberia...
Clint shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure how Stark and Steve would've made it back from that. He only knew that they should have had a chance to try. The billionaire's death would weigh on the Captain's conscience for the rest of his life now. Just like Pietro's would on his.
If only that difficult situation involving the truth about what had happened to Stark's parents had been handled differently... maybe they wouldn't be mourning the loss of one of their own now.
But at the same time, Steve was here. Steve had been trying to find their missing teammate, despite all that had happened between them. That alone gave him hope that maybe, just maybe they all could, as a unit, come back together. To learn, together, how to be a true team– stronger and better than they were before all this Accords bullshit happened.
It just shouldn't have taken something as disastrous as Stark's death to do it.
At this thought, Clint's brow furrowed. How had he read the situation so wrong down by the harbor? Why would someone go through so much trouble just to kill the billionaire? It didn't make any sense to him. Whoever was behind the ambush must have wanted something... He just didn't know what yet.
And the more he thought about it, the more something just didn't seem... right about all of this. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
Clint felt more than heard or saw her sit on the ledge next to him. He wasn't surprised that she'd found him. She always did, no matter what.
"You know... I don't really know if the blonde suits you," he muttered, glancing over at her with the ghost of a smirk. "Red's a better color on you."
Natasha looked back at him, the same expression tugging at the corner of her lips. "I could say the same about the ridiculous mohawk," she countered lightly. But then, the look waned. "How are you holding up out here?"
Clint let out a long breath as he looked back out at the city far below. "Just wondering if things would have gone differently if we'd gotten here sooner."
"Don't do that to yourself, Barton, I swear," Natasha scolded, leaning a little closer to him. "You know as well as I do that it probably wouldn't have made any difference. If he wasn't able to escape that explosion, then we were all too late. Don't put that on yourself. We all knew this was always a possibility when we all agreed to be a part of this team. It was a risk we were all willing to take."
When the archer didn't say anything for a long moment, the assassin sighed as she looked out over the city herself. Though the bright lights didn't hold their usual charm that night. In fact, the bustling place seemed just a little bit darker than usual.
To her, death was a different sort of animal than it was to most people. It didn't scare her, despite how she couldn't say for sure if anything came after or not. Death was normal, just a part of life. It was inevitable; it didn't discriminate. But being raised around death, brought up around death, trained to be a ruthless bringer of death... she was used to it. It was something that had been so entangled with her life that it was something that didn't faze her anymore. Her own mortality was something she rarely gave a thought to, if ever.
She'd taken many lives without blinking, just like she'd been instructed to. She'd lost just as many who were on her side, both out of the Red Room and in S.H.I.E.L.D. Again, she hadn't blinked as those lights flickered and faded.
For most of her life, death was something that she'd been desensitized to since it was so normal.
Though after joining S.H.I.E.L.D., she'd made the realization that it was simply because she hadn't formed any attachments to any of those lives around her. Empathy had been something fundamental that had been taken from her once she completed the graduation ceremony from the Red Room. Seeing those around her as human– seeing herself as human– simply wasn't efficient for a mission.
Natasha shot a quick glance at the man beside her. When Clint had spared her life– an act of mercy she'd never granted to anyone before that moment– and brought her in to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of taking her out like he'd been instructed to do, she hadn't understood his decision. She hadn't known what he'd seen in her that was worth saving, that was worth giving another chance to. She'd stuck close to him, though. She'd owed him a debt, after all.
Though as time had gone on, she realized that perhaps all her humanity hadn't been stripped from her after all. She'd bonded with the archer, she'd enjoyed his company. She'd been afraid to admit it at first, but for the first time in a long time, she'd felt that she'd actually made a friend– the second time she'd really ever done so. She'd had someone she could put the cold, unfeeling assassin away around. She'd found someone that she could trust with herself. When she'd met his family, she'd felt like she was finally able to have something she knew she never could. She cared about those children and the woman who was his other half and made him happy. His happiness made her happy.
Nick Fury had become someone she felt the same way about. At first, Natasha had viewed him the same way as she had her superiors and teachers in the Red Room. The director had simply been the one she reported to for a mission, and she'd made sure to complete them to the best of her ability since that's what he'd expected out of her, and she'd had to impress him so that he wouldn't regret his decision to keep her around. So that she could stay.
But much like Clint, Fury had given her a second chance. He'd cared about her, making sure that she'd had everything she'd needed and wanted, making sure she was tended to if she'd been injured in a mission. No one had ever done those things– checking on her well-being– for her before, not without some sort of motive or expecting something in return. And much like she had with Clint, she'd begun to care about Fury, too. She'd gotten attached, something that she'd always believed to be dangerous, something she'd never felt like she could afford to do. Any attachments she'd made in the Red Room– which had only been one– had been taken away from her because it was a distraction from their missions. It wasn't efficient. She hadn't been able to hang on to it. She wasn't sure if he even remembered all of what they'd had when they'd managed to get away with it for that much too short time; the Red Room had almost made her forget it, after all.
Though with Clint and Fury as a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., things had been different. It was almost as though her heart had finally started beating again. While disconcerting, and frankly terrifying, at first, it was what she needed. It had given her a purpose. It made her feel human.
It was also when Natasha had started to be afraid of death for the second time. Not her own, that still didn't concern her. But Clint... Fury... The times that the archer had been grievously injured during missions, when he'd been under Loki's mind control... She'd been terrified to lose him, to lose one of the only people who'd given her life any sort of meaning. It had been the same with the director, having actually mourned for him when she'd believed his light had flickered and faded. After she'd believed the Winter Soldier had killed him...
The assassin's gaze faltered. Yes, Clint knew her better than anyone. He knew her fears, her hopes, all the sins she'd ever committed, the redemptions she'd had. Everything. Fury was a confidant, someone she could trust anything with. Someone who didn't look at her like the monster she'd been molded into.
But there was someone else, before either of them... one who knew her more intimately than anyone. One she'd shared dreams of escaping from the Red Room with. One, though simply starting as a distraction, she thought she could've said she loved if they'd been allowed to remain together, before that emotion had once again been taken from her since it wasn't efficient. One who'd helped to shape her into the killing machine she was. One who'd first given her the fear of death when he'd return from a mission with some sort of injury before she was once again programmed not to give it a second thought. One she'd believed, until recently, had forgotten all about her and what they'd once had together.
Natasha let out a quiet breath. Yes, death was still normal. Just a part of life. But death was also something she now dreaded, even feared. Still not for her own mortality. But for the man beside her. For Nick Fury. For the first person she thought she'd ever loved. For Steve Rogers. For Bruce Banner. For Sam Wilson. For Thor. For Wanda Maximoff. Even for Tony Stark.
At first, the assassin had hated the connections she'd formed with the people she was a part of the same team with. The Avengers... Fury's brainchild. Bonds like that made a person weak. There was no way to be truly efficient in a mission if one was concerned for the lives of those around them.
But as she'd learned, it was those same connections that had made her stronger. They made her better. They made her human. And she rather liked the feeling as she'd allowed the bonds to strengthen, the friendships to grow. She had to admit that it had torn her apart to see all these people she now considered friends fight with each other, ripping what they had apart at the seams. It felt strange to be so spread out.
And Tony...
Oh, how she'd despised the man when she'd first met him, having to deal with all of his flirtatious advances. Natasha allowed a slight smile as she remembered how the billionaire had used to be when she'd posed as his new assistant– egotistical, self-centered, selfish, didn't work well with others. Nothing at all what Nick Fury had been looking for when he'd been putting his Avengers Initiative together. Frankly, Tony had failed miserably in qualifying.
But they'd given him a chance because they'd had to. The earth had been in danger. They'd needed him. And she had been the first to admit that he'd completely proved her wrong when he'd taken the rogue nuclear missile and brought it through the wormhole with no regard for his own life.
Ever since, Tony had been the cornerstone of the team they'd been attempting to be. He'd provided them with tech, with weapons, with suit upgrades. But he'd also been someone they'd been able to look to for support, for guidance. He'd been a solid foundation. He'd surprised her even further when he began to mentor the young Peter Parker. Sure, there were times where the billionaire still couldn't let go of that ego he tended to hide any vulnerabilities behind, which would often get under her skin and put her on edge.
But still. Tony was Tony. One had to accept the whole package when it came to him, even the annoying pieces. But she couldn't deny that he had been a good man. Knowing that he was gone was something that was hard to wrap her mind around. And while she found she couldn't shed a tear for him since they hadn't reached that point, there was an emptiness in her chest at the realization that she wouldn't see him again.
Tony Stark wasn't coming back.
"There's going to be a lot to take care of," Natasha finally said, attempting to distract herself from the conflicting emotions raging beneath the surface. Words filled the void left behind. "Probably some paperwork somewhere... arrangements made..."
"Nat?"
The assassin paused in her musings at the quiet sound of her name, and she looked over to see that her companion was silently watching her. "Yeah?"
Clint gave her a sad, knowing smile. "Turn that brain of yours off for one damned minute and take a second for yourself to grieve," he told her in just above a whisper.
Of course he knew... He always knew.
Natasha continued to meet his gaze for another moment before she sighed with a brief nod of defeat. She scooted a little closer to him before resting her head on his shoulder, briefly closing her eyes when she felt his head press lightly against hers.
The two sat just like that, each lost in their own thoughts, silently watching as the bright lights of the city continued to thrive with life far beneath them.
Sam stared up at the high ceiling above him from where he was stretched out on the couch in the penthouse, his eyes absently tracing shapes in the shadows as he listened to the news report covering the events down at the harbor. That was already memorializing Tony Stark's life. Though the words he was hardly paying attention to almost didn't seem real, almost like they were talking about a different Tony Stark.
It had been a couple hours since the billionaire's body had been discovered in the rubble of the ruined building. The news was nearly impossible to escape from. Not that he was surprised. Tony Stark was a household name. Loved– or hated– by many.
Personally, he really hadn't known the man too well, at least not well enough to be as affected by news of his death as others in the Tower. The times he'd been around the billionaire, he found him to be a nice enough guy. Maybe a bit too full of himself at times, but overall, he'd stood by and fought for what he'd believed in. And that, at least, made him respect him. Tony had genuinely cared about those around him, that he could see, even if he hadn't shown it in a typical way.
But then the Accords happened, and they'd found themselves on opposing sides. Though, Sam remembered, when Tony had sought him out at the Raft prison, wanting to go after Steve and Bucky to help them with the threat they'd believed they'd face in Siberia, he'd seen the genuine apology about targeting Barnes, the regret about causing himself and the Captain to be at odds, and the desire to aid them and to make things right in his hazel eyes. It took a big man to do that, to admit he was wrong. It was why he'd told him where they were going, so he could join them there. As a friend.
If he'd known what would happen in that Siberian wasteland instead... he never would have given the billionaire their location. Maybe then, he and Steve wouldn't have turned against each other.
Maybe then, Tony would still be alive.
Sam raised his head curiously when he heard slow, hesitant footsteps, seeing Scott had found a spot to sit on the arm of one of the other nearby couches, his gaze resting on the television as he watched the news broadcast intently.
"Hey, Tic Tac."
Startled, Scott turned to look at him before cracking half as mile. "Oh, uh, hey, man," he replied a little nervously. "I didn't, like... wake you up or something, did I?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah, man," he assured him. He then sat up, turning to look at the television himself. "I was just, uh... thinking about some things."
The ex-con followed his gaze, wringing his hands together. "Yeah... hard to believe he's dead. The man seemed invincible, you know?"
Despite himself, Sam chuckled. "No one's invincible," he muttered. From his years in the Air Force, from the personal loss he'd suffered, it was something he knew all too well.
Scott seemed to realize they were broaching a difficult subject, so he turned his focus back to the television. He watched footage of Tony doing some sort of presentation for a few minutes in silence before he turned back to the other man. "You know what Hank Pym told me? To never trust a Stark," he said. "He had some issues with Tony's dad, Howard, or something, I think... But even though I didn't know the guy, and he was against us in Germany, Tony didn't seem all that bad, you know? Sure, he could be a jerk. But the guy was doing what he thought was right. Can't begrudge him that. That's all any of us can do..."
"You got that right." Sam gazed at Tony's smiling face on the screen for a moment longer before he glanced over his shoulder at the bar behind him. "Want a drink, Tic Tac?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
Both men wandered over to the bar, where Sam immediately pulled out two glasses and filled them with ice. He opened the mini fridge to peruse their options. "Fully stocked," he announced. "What sounds good?"
"Uh, not something overly heavy... Hard lemonade?" Scott suggested.
Sam nodded, pulling out two bottles and starting to pour them into the glasses.
The ex-con watched him for a moment before leaning on the counter between them. "So, uh... tell me a little more about Tony," he said. "Did he have a family or anything? Kids?"
"No," Sam replied as he topped off the glasses. "He was in a long-time relationship with his CEO, but they were taking a break, last I heard... Though personally, I think they were working things out. No children, though he was mentoring that Spider-Man kid."
Scott arched an eyebrow. "The one they put a warrant out for?" he asked.
"One and the same," Sam answered. "But don't believe the nonsense. It's all noise. He's a good kid. He was willing to do whatever he could to find Tony..."
The two men were silent for a long moment, neither knowing what to say, so Sam returned to the fridge for a couple of lemon slices to go along with their drinks. Scott drummed his fingers on the counter.
"Is this the first time you guys have lost someone?" the latter wondered. "I mean, you know..."
Sam straightened up and met his gaze. He sighed quietly, slipping the lemon slices on the rims of the glasses. "We've all lost someone we love, I'm sure. But as for losing a member of the team... since I've officially been a part of it, yeah. This is the first time we've lost one of our own. But there was another before that. Wanda's brother. Her twin."
Scott's gaze faltered as his brow furrowed. "Oh, man... I had no idea..."
"She doesn't like to talk about it." Sam then held out one of the glasses to the other man.
The ex-con took it, but before he brought it to his lips, he raised the glass in the air between them. "To Tony Stark. May he rest easy."
Sam raised his as well. "And to finding the son of a bitch who really did this. May we hunt him or her down before kicking their ass. May we avenge Tony Stark."
"Amen." Scott smirked, Sam mirroring the look as they clinked their glasses together and knocked back their drinks.
The kindest thing Tony Stark had ever done for her was give her an acoustic guitar.
Wanda sat in a chair at one of the outside tables at an all-night diner about a block away from the Tower, simply watching people bustling around her– even at the late hour– from under the brim of a baseball cap that Steve had let her borrow. She knew it probably wasn't the best idea to be away from the relative safety of the Tower and the other Avengers when she was wanted by the law, but with how heavy the air was inside their hideout, she found it was nearly impossible to stay. It was thick with grief, with rage, with regret, with guilt. It was suffocating for her. She'd needed some air to clear her mind.
It reminded her way too much of the inside of her own head after what had happened in Sokovia...
She took a sharp intake of breath when she noticed the tendrils of scarlet energy trailing along her fingers, and she quickly forced them back down before anyone could notice. She couldn't think about him, about what had happened, even though he haunted her every step.
His loss had broken her; she was missing a crucial part of herself in his absence.
But Tony Stark? That was a little different... a little more complicated.
Wanda sighed. It wasn't that she didn't feel the impact of his death. It wasn't that she didn't regret his loss. She'd seen too many losses of human life, too many instances of suffering, in her almost nineteen years of life; she knew that each one was important and should be cherished. Her own soul had been severed in half due to loss. She understood the impact of grief all too well.
But it was no real secret that she and Tony had never really... been on the same page, had never really seen eye to eye. They'd just never really learned how to get along with each other. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he still hated her. Or rather, had still hated her.
And she couldn't deny that she'd spent quite a bit of her life hating him, blaming him for what had happened to her home, to her family, to Sokovia.
Though Wanda knew she couldn't blame Tony for hating her in turn. After all, it was her power that had given him the vision of the Earth destroyed and all of his friends dead. Her power that had caused him to create Ultron, which had in turn taken the most important person in her life away from her. Her power that had killed all those innocents... those children... in Lagos, which had led to the drafting of the Accords, which had caused the team to fracture...
Which had led to his death.
Wanda took a deep breath. Yes, she'd spent most of her life hating Tony Stark for wrongs she'd believed he'd committed. For sins she'd been made to believe he'd committed. She hadn't known better, she'd been told who to blame. The people of Sokovia had been given an enemy, which was what they'd needed at the time.
Though Tony, she had to admit, wasn't nearly as bad as she'd been told. She could see that, and she knew her brother had seen that before it had been too late, too. He'd been egotistical and stubborn, sure, but not the heartless killer they'd been made to believe he was.
After Pietro's death and the destruction in Sokovia, the billionaire had been the one to offer her a place to live in the Avengers compound when she'd had no home and no family. Despite all she had done. He'd offered awkward apologies for everything that had happened in Sokovia, for the loss of her brother. While Steve and Natasha had been her trainers, Tony had made sure she had everything she needed and wanted to furnish her own space in the compound– a decent-sized flat-screen television, a computer, a shelf full of books, a full-colored globe. All things that she'd never really had growing up because her family couldn't afford such luxuries.
And an acoustic guitar.
If Tony had found it strange that that was the only item that she'd personally requested when he'd asked if there was anything he could get for her to make her feel at home when she'd first moved into the compound, he hadn't said so. She couldn't play the instrument, after all, but she'd been learning since she'd been given it. It was the thing she missed the most since she'd been on the run.
It gave her a piece of her brother.
One of her favorite memories growing up with Pietro was how he'd been able to play the guitar with so much heart. When they'd been children, he'd always been so interested and enthralled by the street musicians who would often play their instruments in the main city squares in Sokovia. So much so that one of the older women had let him try out her old but beautiful acoustic guitar whenever they'd passed her by.
A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of Wanda's lips as she absently twirled one of the silver rings around her index finger. Even at a young age, before his abilities had been brought out by Strucker's enhancement experiments, he'd been able to pick things up and learn them quickly. His brain had always just seemed to work at a quicker pace, a higher frequency, than most. So, of course, it hadn't taken him too long to learn how to play the guitar. He'd loved it so much that their parents had saved up to buy one– a gift she'd contributed toward with her allowance money– for his birthday a couple years before the bombings.
Though after the bombs fell, after their parents died, things had changed. The guitar had survived the disaster, but Pietro had never touched it again. Between the rebellion he'd led and eventually Strucker's experiments, he'd just seemed to lose all interest in the instrument. It'd sat forgotten in the ruins of their apartment as they'd fought alongside the Avengers to try to save their home, never to be seen again as she'd left what remained of that home behind.
Wanda quickly looked up when a styrofoam cup was set on the table in front of her, and she attempted a smile as the android sat in the chair across the table from her. She hadn't realized that a couple tears were trailing down her cheeks until she saw his light eyes falter.
"I apologize, there was a bit of a wait," Vision said gently. "Are you all right?"
Wrapping her hands around the hot cup to warm the chill in her fingers, Wanda nodded as she took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," she replied, her voice cracking slightly as she blinked any remaining tears away. "How are you coping? With the loss, I mean?"
Vision hesitated as he looked down at his own folded hands. "I am not certain I am experiencing the grief of Mr. Stark's passing in the same way as the others," he admitted. "Although I am unaccustomed to understanding any sort of emotion."
Wanda took a sip of the coffee the android had bought for her before quickly wiping at the dampness on her cheeks. "Do you feel anything?" she asked quietly. Grief, mourning, sorrow... they were damaging emotions. But they were part of the human experience. They were healing during a difficult process such as the loss of a loved one. While she'd spent many long hours trapped in her own head being swallowed up by those very emotions after Pietro's death, and while she sometimes found herself back in that place, she couldn't imagine having been able to move on, stronger, had she not experienced them.
"Yes." The android raised his gaze to hers. "Though it is not the same... pleasant spark as I feel when I am with you. Rather it... it is almost as though there is something missing. That there is an empty space where something once was."
"That's what grief is, Vis," Wanda murmured, thinking about the void that would never be filled in her own soul.
"Perhaps, but it is more complicated than that," Vision told her. He absently reached out, brushing one of his fingers lightly against the back of her hand. "There is a part of me... JARVIS, it is called... that, for a program, was very attached and very loyal to Mr. Stark. In its own way, it cared for and loved him as family. That is the part of me that is feeling this emptiness. That is experiencing this pain..."
Wanda's face crumpled as she lowered her gaze to the cup between her hands. She didn't know what she could say.
"I wish to understand more of what I am experiencing. So I may mourn along with the rest." Vision leaned forward on the table, closing the distance between them a bit. "Wanda?"
Knowing what he wanted her to do, Wanda quickly looked back up at him. "Oh, Vis... You don't want to feel what I am right now," she told him. Not her complicated feelings about the man he wished to grieve for and what it meant now that he was gone. Not her despair about being severed from Pietro...
To her surprise, a slight smile turned up the corner of Vision's lips. "I understand," he said. "I understand that you and Mr. Stark were never close. Though, in his way, he was doing what he believed to be best when it came to protecting you from those who wished to bring you harm."
Wanda chuckled before she took another sip of the coffee. You locked me in my room. What a childish comment she'd made during the fight at the airport in Germany. It had only been her frustration at the entire situation she'd found herself in, but still. "I know, Vis, I really do..."
"Though there is something else I wish to tell you."
The tone of her companion's voice caused her to pause and look at him curiously. "What's that?" she asked.
Vision took a deep breath. "Mr. Stark was aware that we were meeting in secret," he answered quietly.
Wanda's stomach dropped as she tightened her hold on the cup. Ever since she'd escaped from the Raft prison due to help from Steve, and since she'd been on the run with Clint and Scott, she and Vision had taken any chance they could to see each other in what they deemed to be safe locations, just to see if something between them could work. Though they also knew that if they were ever seen together, they would both be in jeopardy. Even though the android had signed the Accords, being seen with an escaped criminal who hadn't would be devastating. Clint was the only one on her side who knew where she was going when she'd leave them for a little while since he wouldn't let her out of his sight if he didn't know where she was sneaking off to, always giving her the same advice to be careful. She'd believed no one on Vision's side had been aware of their meetings.
"He what?" Panic caused her heart to race, and she had to focus to keep her powers repressed as energy threatened to crackle around her fingers. "Vis, we weren't supposed to tell anyone. What did he...?"
But her questions slowly trailed off when Vision slowly shook his head, that small smile lingering on his face. "Have you ever wondered why Mr. Stark hadn't been on the hunt for any of you?" he pressed.
Wanda's breath caught in her chest. Of course. If Tony had wanted to hunt any of them down for the crimes the government decreed they were committing, he'd have had no trouble finding them with the countless resources he had. Which meant that he hadn't been looking for them. He hadn't been helping Secretary Ross. But why...?
"I had to tell him where I was going when he caught me continually leaving," Vision continued lightly. "But he never pursued it. He knew I was seeing you. And he allowed us to meet, to see each other. I believe it was his way of attempting to keep us all connected."
Despite herself, a thin line of tears formed in Wanda's eyes as she looked back at him, entwining her fingers with his. She wasn't sure if she would have believed Tony of all people would have been all right with her and Vision's secret meetings if she couldn't see the truth of it in his gaze. While surprised, she was grateful that he had. Maybe he hadn't hated her as much as she'd thought, after all...
The android's smile faltered. "Please?" he pressed.
Wanda considered what he was asking her to do for a moment longer before she nodded in agreement. "All right." She couldn't deny him any further. Not after learning what Tony had been doing for them.
She focused on all of her conflicting emotions fighting to gain prominence, trying to create some sort of order out of the chaos. Tony's death... Pietro's death... the sorrow, the rage, the guilt... She had to get it all under control.
Scarlet energy formed at her fingertips, filled with all of this turmoil. Her eyes rested on the yellow stone in the middle of the android's forehead– that mysterious force that neither of them truly understood other than knowing it somehow linked the two of them together. With a quick glance to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, she sent the light directly into the gem so that he could feel these emotions, too. So that he could feel her.
Wanda watched silently as each stage of grief seemed to pass through Vision's light eyes as he registered them. His gaze faltered as that despair... the same despair she'd seen from him shortly after Tony had been found... appeared in his face again as his fingers tightened around hers.
"So this is loss..."
Nodding as a couple more tears leaked from her eyes, Wanda tightened her hold on his hand in return. She closed the rest of the distance separating them, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his. She listened to his rapid breathing, felt as it slowed to match hers. At least he wasn't alone in processing his grief.
At least they could come to terms with the billionaire's death together.
And, she realized as she stroked his hand lightly with her thumb, the true kindest thing that Tony Stark had given her wasn't that guitar. It was stolen moments like this with Vision.
Pain.
That was the only thought on Rhodey's mind as he stared out the window of his room that he'd used whenever he'd crash for a night or two at the Tower, hardly registering the bright lights beneath him or the black smoke still billowing out over the harbor. Though while his leg was still throbbing with agony after that ambush, it wasn't his own that he couldn't stop thinking about.
Pain... Tony had died in pain...
He'd stared at his best friend's broken body for a full few minutes after the billionaire had been found among the rubble before Vision had made the call to get him out of the area as reporters and cameras had hounded them. He hadn't even had the strength to resist. As much as he'd wanted to finish pulling the man he'd called his best friend since their MIT days– which felt like a completely different lifetime– out of that debris himself, to hold him close, to protect him even then... he couldn't. He hadn't been able to do even that.
Though every detail, every horrifying detail, of the injuries that had marred Tony's face, his arms, stood out in his mind's eye. The severe burns alone would have been excruciating. The smoke inhalation, the suffocation, would also have brought more agony with it as the heat invaded his lungs. The best the colonel knew he could hope for was that Tony had either passed out due to that smoke, or his neck had been broken relatively quickly to ease the suffering.
But those few minutes before either of those things may have happened...
Rhodey's breath hitched with a quiet sob, his hands trembling as he didn't bother to stop the tears from forming and trailing down his cheeks. He'd never imagined that he'd have to hope for small mercies such as that for the man who had been closer to him than his family had ever been. He'd never imagined he'd discover his best friend dead in such a terrible way. He'd never imagined he'd have to mourn the death of the man he'd always believed would outlive him.
Even back during their MIT days, the colonel had been Tony's protector. The brilliant but brash heir to the Stark Industries fortune had entered the esteemed university at the age of fifteen, which had made him a prime target of those jealous of him. Rhodey chuckled quietly through the tears as he remembered the countless times he'd have to step in and intervene before something got ugly because Tony had rubbed the wrong person the wrong way. Or, he also remembered, how the young Stark's habitual party lifestyle had gotten him into many situations that he often needed some assistance from him to get out of.
And then, years later, that fateful trip to Afghanistan that had changed their lives forever...
Another sob shook Rhodey's lithe frame, and he clutched the windowsill tightly. He'd been one of the few not to have given up on Tony during those three hellish months he'd spent in captivity. He'd risked his own livelihood, his own career, in the military to return to Afghanistan to search for him, even though he'd been given a direct order not to. He'd refused to leave him behind if there had been even the slightest chance that he was alive.
He'd never been more relieved to find the younger man stumbling around the unforgiving desert, looking like hell but miraculously breathing...
Why couldn't he have ensured the same outcome this time...?
He'd always protected Tony. Back at MIT... he'd brought him home from Afghanistan... he'd berated him for not letting him know he was dying because the very same Arc reactor that was supposed to keep him alive had been poisoning him... He'd been there through all of it. As Tony had been there for him when he'd needed him most.
Why couldn't he have protected him now?
A strangled sob escaped from the colonel as he staggered back a couple steps, allowing his legs to give out from under him. But a strong, sturdy pair of arms caught him before he could hit the floor, and he quickly looked up to see that Happy was gazing back down at him with concern, but also understanding, in his red, tear-stained face. Rhodey met his gaze for only a moment before allowing the tears to overtake him.
The head of security didn't say a word as the other man broke down, simply allowing him to get everything out as he supported him. Not only did he know his friend would appreciate it, but he didn't know if there was anything he could say to alleviate the pain that was eating away at both of them. At least it was something they could endure together since it was a burden they shared.
It didn't take long for the sobs to quiet and the tears to slow. Rhodey took a deep, shuddering breath as he willed himself to regain his composure, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "How... how's everyone else doing...?" he asked thickly. "Pepper? The kid?"
Happy's gaze faltered. "Pepper's locked herself in their old room," he answered quietly, helping the other man to regain his footing. "Peter... I was with him for a little while after he, Natasha, and Sam returned from the school. Talked to him a bit. He seemed... well, he seemed shellshocked, for lack of a better word. He then asked to have a few minutes alone."
Rhodey arched an eyebrow. "And you let him go off by himself now of all times?"
"Kid could kick my ass or break me in half in a heartbeat if he tried," Happy grumbled. "But he didn't go far, he's just holed himself up in a guest room. I've got F.R.I.D.A.Y. keeping an eye on him. She'll alert me if he needs something. Same with Peps. I'll be checking back up on them soon." He sighed. "I just wanted to check in on you first."
"Yeah, well... thanks. I'll be fine." Rhodey took a deep breath, unable to meet the other man's eyes as he instead cast his gaze back to the window. Though neither mentioned what had just happened. It wasn't needed.
They were both silent for neither one knew how long before Rhodey spoke up again, quietly and almost to himself more than his companion.
"I was supposed to protect him... I failed."
Happy let out a heavy sigh. "We both failed him," he corrected.
Rhodey glanced back over at him, and the head of security shrugged. "I know I was hired and paid to watch over Tony and protect him since not only did a lot of people wanna bring him harm, but you know as well as I do that he got himself into a lot of those situations himself." He paused with a chuckle as the other man smiled knowingly. "But it was what I wanted to do. I loved that man. Hell, he... and you and Pepper... are the only family I have. Other than my mom, but she's not all that supportive... Hell, what am I saying? You get it."
The colonel nodded. "Yeah, Hap, I get it," he muttered. "You guys are my only family, too. Which is what makes this so damned difficult. We couldn't do what we were supposed to do. Tony... he's gone, man..."
Happy felt a thin line of tears returning, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He couldn't do that to either of them at the moment. To hear the other man say the painful reality he knew they'd both been trying not to give voice to out loud was something he wasn't entirely prepared for. "Yeah. He is," he agreed quietly, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "And we can't change that. We can't... we can't take back that neither one of us could save him, could keep him safe like we were supposed to do. But... but there is something we can do."
Rhodey met his gaze again. "And what's that?" he wondered.
The head of security smiled slightly, furiously blinking away his tears. "We can protect the people he loved," he told him. "The people that he'd protected without a second thought. The people he'd want us to protect now that he can't. Pepper... and Peter. We may have failed Tony, but we don't have to fail them."
A moment passed before the colonel smiled. "Yeah," he murmured. "I like the sound of that." He saw Happy return the look before he turned back to the window, his gaze landing on the billowing black smoke that continued to swallow up the stars. The same smoke that had consumed the life of one they had both cherished.
But Happy was right, he knew. After all the years of making sure they didn't, they'd failed Tony. He had slipped away from them, no doubt protecting the teenager who was closer to his heart than he'd ever admitted when he was alive. The least they could do was protect those the billionaire had loved in his stead.
And Rhodey knew that he would give anything to make sure they were safe. Because he loved Pepper, too, and Peter had certainly grown on him in the short time they'd been working together.
Yes, he would do everything in his power to make sure those his best friend had loved most were safe in his memory. Even if it meant giving his last breath to do it. As he knew Happy would.
It was the least they could do for Tony now.
"That shield doesn't belong to you..."
The large weight room echoed with the sound of fist connecting solidly with punching bag as Steve stood alone in the corner, his eyes narrowed and his breathing ragged as he pounded all of his rage, his grief, his guilt into the machine. The emotions that fueled him had nowhere else to go as they threatened to either devour him from the inside or tear their way out of him, and while all he could think of was burying his fists into the body of whoever had claimed the life of one of their own, this would have to do while he didn't have a face to go by.
"You don't deserve it..."
Steve grit his teeth as his next hit landed with even more force. The punching bag flailed dangerously.
He'd been without that shield for quite some time since he'd been on the run. And deep down, he couldn't help but feel that he may be better off without it. There was a part of him that agreed with the familiar voice that echoed loudly in his ears over the rapid pulse of each strike that landed.
He didn't deserve that shield and what it stood for. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost that as the world around him jaded him.
"My father made that shield!"
Howard Stark. While with his flaws, he'd deserved the shield he'd created more than he did.
As had his son.
Steve cried out as he hit the machine with all the strength he had. The punching bag flew off the chain and connected with the wall across from him, bursting open on impact. Sand spilled all over the floor, joining the piles already there from previous bags.
The Super Soldier stood still for a long moment, surveying the damage, as he took deep, rapid breaths. Other than that, there were no other sounds in the room. For the first time since he'd been there, Tony's last words to him weren't playing on a loop in his mind. Taunting him. Haunting him.
He dropped to a crouch, closing his eyes as he brushed some of his hanging, sweat-drenched hair out of his face. His muscles ached, but he didn't pay them any mind. It was a small price to pay.
But no amount of pain would erase the image of Tony's face– filled with fear and betrayal– the last time he had seen him, nor his bruised, bloodied, and burned features he'd glimpsed on the news report from his mind. Because that was his fault.
He had done that.
Steve slowly opened his eyes, his chest continuing to heave as he gazed blankly at the room around him. It wasn't the first time he'd lost soldiers in battle, and as long as the world kept fighting itself, he felt that it wouldn't be the last. He'd regrettably lost many under his command back during the War. He'd lost a member of the team– a misguided kid who'd been trying to turn his life around like his sister had– when he'd been called to lead the Avengers.
But even with his leadership, he'd never questioned that Tony had been the heartbeat of the team, the soul and essence of what they'd stood for and kept them going. Once that had dimmed– by his hand– they had all drifted apart.
And now that the pulse had stopped, that the light had faded, he didn't know what would become of them now. How could he lead a team whose foundation had crumbled and had left them with no heart? What were they without their strongest pillar, without their very spirit?
How could he continue when he knew it was all because of him?
The Super Soldier chuckled quietly under his breath, knowing that working with Tony hadn't always been simple. In fact, he wasn't even sure if it ever had been. They were much too different, there was hardly a time where they weren't clashing with each other. At the beginning when they'd worked to stop Loki from invading New York, he couldn't even stand the billionaire. He'd been egotistical, full of himself, childish. While Howard had been the same way at times, he'd also had integrity. He had been a good man. He'd searched for even a fraction of that in his son and hadn't been able to see it. Not at first.
Though at the same time, they were very much the same. They were both too stubborn for their own good most of the time. To his surprise, Tony had laid down on the wire instead of finding a way to cut it, he'd made the sacrifice play, when he'd brought a nuclear bomb through the alien wormhole to keep it from striking Manhattan. It was the last thing he'd expected from him. But in that moment, he'd seen that he had truly been Howard's son.
Steve slowly rose to his feet and turned to face the full-length mirror that covered one wall. For a moment, Tony looked back at him. He looked healthy, vibrant, and happy with his unmarred face full of laughter.
In many ways, the other man was his mirror image, a reflection of certain parts of himself that he felt as though he'd lost or kept hidden. Though in others, Tony had been his foil, his opposite. He was the Jekyll to his Hyde, and in that way, they'd completed the other. They were the strength in the other's weaknesses. If they'd been given more time to get past all that had divided them, to learn how to get along better...
If only what had happened in Siberia, and all that had led up to it, had gone differently...
The Super Soldier's hand curled into a fist when he saw the Tony looking back at him from the mirror now appeared different. His smile had vanished, his eyes were troubled, his brow was furrowed in a frown, and his features were pale. That laughter was gone. And in its place was fear... betrayal.
If there was a way to turn back the hands of time, to be able to handle the events surrounding the death of the billionaire's parents differently, he would have given up anything to do it in a heartbeat. The weight of the decision of how to tell Tony that yes, Bucky had been the one responsible but had been brainwashed by Hydra, and that yes, he'd known about it, had been a heavy burden to carry. And it had been one that he'd shouldered alone. His priority had always been to protect Bucky, the one person, the brother, he'd always had when he'd had no one since the time of the War.
But Tony had deserved to know the truth about what had happened the night his parents had died. And he should have heard it from him. Zemo never should have had the opportunity to exploit it and use it to tear them all apart. If only he'd just bitten the bullet and done it himself when he'd had the chance... none of this may have happened. He'd just been too afraid, too selfish, to lose Tony that he hadn't been able to.
And after all of that, he'd lost him, anyway. He'd betrayed him and tossed aside that friendship. And now, it was for good.
"He's my friend, Tony."
"So was I."
Steve sighed heavily, the battle that had resulted between them replaying clearly in his mind. Every strike, every move... He remembered how he'd trapped the billionaire, using his shield to crush the Iron Man helmet, revealing his bruised and bloodied face. He remembered the flicker of fear in his hazel eyes as he'd raised his shield yet again, and how his own heart had faltered before he'd brought it down into the Arc reactor in his suit. Had he truly believed that he would kill him?
And... hadn't he after all?
Because of him, Earth had lost her best defender.
The Super Soldier looked up at the mirror once again to see the Tony there was looking back at him with a blank expression, void of all emotion. His face was covered in cuts, bruises, burns. His hair was singed, his shirt torn. His neck was bruised and twisted at a bit of an unnatural angle. There was no life left in his usually bright eyes. It was like he was staring right through him, into his very soul.
He'd left his shield behind, knowing that the billionaire had been right in saying that he hadn't deserved it. He'd left Tony behind in that frozen wasteland. And neither one of them had been the same.
His own bearded reflection gazed back at him now. Silent. Judging. Guilty.
A terrible, anguished scream broke through Steve's lips as he reared back before his fist connected with the mirror's surface, shattering that part of the glass. Tiny pieces littered the floor and dug into his hand, and he watched, unfazed, as crimson rivulets trailed down his fingers. But it wasn't his blood he saw stinging and staining his skin.
It was Tony's.
Someone else may have carried out the billionaire's murder, and he was as determined to find the ones responsible as the rest of what lingered of the team.
But he knew in his heart that he had been the one who had killed Tony Stark.
It had been the best day of his young life.
Knowing how much he loved and looked up to Tony Stark, his Uncle Ben had brought him to the Stark Expo, the first one the billionaire had held after revealing that he was indeed the masked hero known as Iron Man. He'd even brought a toy mask to bring with him that he'd bought with his own allowance money, hoping that the man he idolized would notice him. He'd gotten his wish, however briefly, as Tony's bodyguard– Happy, he remembered with slight amusement– allowed him to come backstage for a moment, where Tony had quickly signed the mask as he hurried past him. Looking back at it, the fact that the man hadn't stopped really hadn't bothered him, though now that he thought about it, something really must have been wrong at the time since he hadn't been looking too good, and yet he still had taken the time to sign his toy. He had just been so overcome with emotion that he'd interacted with his hero at all.
And some time later, when his Uncle Ben had brought him to the Hammer Expo to see what new technology would be presented there, he'd worn his Iron Man mask since he'd hardly been able to part with it. He couldn't deny that he'd found it rather exciting when the robots meant to be made for the military had instead turned and started going after Iron Man, and when one of the bots had wandered close to him, he'd happily raised his hand in the same manner as Tony did when firing a repulsor blast to show that he could be just like the superhero. The robot had aimed one of its own blasts at him, mistaking him for the real Iron Man, and he'd had the greatest thrill of his life when the billionaire had rushed in and saved him, destroying the bot before it could cause any damage.
He'd told the story for years to follow.
That signed mask was still in his room somewhere, he hadn't been able to part with it.
And when Tony Stark himself had appeared in the living room of his small apartment when he'd returned from school not too long before under the guise of him being chosen for some sort of internship through Stark Industries that he hadn't even applied for, he'd felt as though he'd wandered into some sort of dream come true. The man he looked up to, the man he still considered a hero, knew all about him, knew what sort of powers he had, was impressed by him. He'd wanted his help on a mission. He'd given him an upgraded suit. He'd wanted him to fight at his side. It still seemed surreal.
But then, he'd messed up everything, seemingly beyond repair. If it hadn't been for his stupidity in dealing with Toomes and the arms dealers, Tony wouldn't have had to come clean up his mess at the ferry. Tony wouldn't have had to feel like he'd have to lecture him. Neither of them would have been in a position to be ambushed.
Tony wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself for him. Tony wouldn't be dead.
And he wouldn't be wanted for his murder.
Peter sniffed as he stared down at his hands, ignoring the tears that were steadily rolling down his cheeks. The last few hours had felt as though he were in a haze, where nothing had seemed possible. How could it be possible that the billionaire was... gone? He'd been alive somewhere out there, he was so certain he'd felt it. None of this made any sense... How could Tony be dead? It wasn't right, he knew it wasn't... It just couldn't be...
It's not that he wasn't used to death. As he'd talked about in his session with Fennhoff, his parents had been killed in a plane crash when he'd been too young to even really remember them. And then almost nine months before, his uncle had been murdered trying to stop a thief, and he'd watched, unable to do anything, as his life had slipped away.
But Tony... no, he was alive. He had to be. This didn't feel right...
He couldn't lose him, too... not like Ben...
A broken sob escaped from him as his body trembled. He closed his eyes tightly as his tears refused to stop. His heart pounded behind his ribs while he couldn't catch his breath. Unable to hold himself up anymore, he curled up on the bed in the first guest room he'd found, wrapping his arms tightly around himself in effort to anchor himself against the anxiety settling in.
Maybe Fennhoff had been right... Without fully realizing it, Peter understood that he'd been attaching himself to Tony since he, unknowingly, had started looking to him to fill a gap left behind in his life by both his own father and Ben. It was a role he'd needed, and the billionaire had been there. To lose that again...
... Oh, God... not again... please not again...
Mr. Stark, please come back... don't leave me, please... please come back... don't go... I'm sorry... please... Mr. Stark, don't go... please...
The gunshot echoed around him...
Tony stepped in front of him, crying out in pain before collapsing to the rooftop, his hands pressed firmly over his abdomen to try to stop the bleeding...
Tony pushed him away from him anxiously when he tried to check on him...
"No, kid... Leave... get out of here... now..."
Tony gave him a small smile, a spot of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth as he coughed a little...
"I'll join you as soon as I can, Underoos... I'll be... right behind you..."
Despite everything he had done... despite how he had messed up everything... despite how angry he'd made him... Tony had put himself in harm's way, possibly died, to protect him. It was an act of mercy he hadn't deserved. It should have been him, not the older man, in that position... the billionaire had done nothing wrong...
Why hadn't he done more?
Peter swore under his breath as his body continued to shake. Why couldn't he remember more of what had happened up on that building...? There was something tucked away in some back corner of his mind, he just knew it. Something crucial that they were missing. Something that could lead to the billionaire's whereabouts.
He couldn't be dead... he just couldn't be... He felt it...
He just had to remember...
The teen wasn't sure how much time had passed until his body finally stopped trembling and his breathing eased as his tears stopped and his heart rate slowed. He didn't move for a long moment before he slowly, cautiously sat up and wiped away the moisture on his cheeks with his t-shirt. Think, Peter, think... He had to stay calm to be able to figure all this out. Freaking out and having a panic attack wouldn't help anyone.
Other than the news that was reporting Tony's death, the other piece of this situation that was making this difficult was Spider-Man now had an arrest warrant on him for the billionaire's murder. Which was completely ridiculous, but still, it's how it was.
But that meant he couldn't be Spider-Man. The costume was too recognizable. And while he could probably handle any police officers who tried to apprehend him, that would make him look even more guilty, and... Oh, God, I'm thinking like a criminal...
So that was out of the question. In the continued search for answers for who had ambushed him and Tony after what happened on that ferry, he'd have to leave Spider-Man, the honorary Avenger, behind him. He'd have to move forward as Peter Parker, the anxiety-prone high school sophomore.
But would that be good enough...?
Peter sighed heavily. He wasn't sure if he could answer that question. He'd come to rely so much on that suit, on Karen, to help him. It made him who he was when he was supposed to be the hero. What would he do without it? Yes, he still had his powers, but...
He'd been unable to use them to save his Uncle Ben. He'd been unable to use them to save Tony Stark...
What good were they when he couldn't save the people he was supposed to?
Oh, God, what am I going to do...?
"If you're nothing without the suit, then you shouldn't have it."
The billionaire's words echoed in his mind again, and the web-slinger set his jaw. Tony had been trying to teach him something, of that he was sure. That... the suit didn't make him a hero? Something like that? He knew he'd have to show not only his mentor but himself that those words were true. That he could do it. Because now he had no other choice.
He'd have to move forward without the suit. He'd have to find answers without Spider-Man. He'd have to keep going as just Peter.
And that would be enough. It just had to be. Because if Tony really was dead, then he would find who was responsible. He had to. For Mr. Stark. He would have done the same for him...
Peter took a deep breath. He would find the people behind this, to get revenge on who had done this to Tony. He would make sure of it.
Mr. Stark's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.
She laughed, the sound light, as Tony did the same across the table from her. His smile had eased the worried creases in his face as it touched his eyes, causing them to brighten. That special, genuine smile he seemed to reserve just for her.
"Do you remember?" he asked, still chuckling.
She shook her head slightly, taking a sip of her orange juice. "How could I forget?" she wondered instead. "Happy was so mad that we'd disappeared for so long. I seriously thought for a moment that he was going to call Rhodey on us."
Tony beamed. "Seriously, I think that's the longest that man's ever lectured you," he muttered with another chuckle. "Not me, but you certainly."
Her own smile returning, she cast her gaze around at the restaurant they'd used to frequent a lot when they'd been together, glad that the two of them had been given the booth in the back corner– just as they always had– so they had a little more privacy to talk and reconnect. Her heart felt light. This breakfast out was exactly the break from all that packing they'd needed, and she was thrilled that the meal and the conversation was just as effortless as it used to be.
It gave her hope for them yet. Maybe, just maybe...
She then reached for another napkin from where the stack sat between them, pausing when her fingers brushed against the billionaire's hand. She quickly glanced up, seeing that he was looking back at her curiously. She knew this would be easy enough to pass off as an accident, a simple brush of hands, before taking the napkin and not giving it another thought.
But she didn't.
Instead, she kept her hand there, allowing the touch to linger.
Tony glanced down at where their hands were still barely touching, the contact feather light. A moment passed before he reached out, hesitantly, before intertwining a couple fingers with hers.
She couldn't help but smile.
Everything about the room was familiar from its off-white walls, striped rug, lava lamp, and the dark blue bed sheets. Even the framed picture of the two of them– a candid from a press event they'd been at where they'd been laughing together at some private joke– still sat on the nightstand.
It was all exactly as she remembered. Tony hadn't changed a thing, even though he wasn't staying in that room as often as he'd used to. It was still their space.
Pepper took a few steps further into the room that she'd shared with him whenever they'd stayed at the Tower for any reason. There were a lot of good memories she had from spending time there– late night talks about anything and everything, listening to his newest ideas when his brain refused to shut off, a quiet place of refuge when the rest of the world got too loud.
But there were also the nights filled with nightmares. With bickering. With silence. Though aside from troubling dreams, those were few and far between. Overall, this had been a comfort space, a place that was theirs, a place they could call their home away from home.
Oh, how she wished that's still how it could be. While it was still that same space since nothing was out of place or different, there was still something crucial that was missing. The most important thing that made this space theirs was gone.
And wouldn't be coming back.
Tony.
Tony was gone...
Why had she ever left?
If she hadn't...
Pepper took a deep breath as her chest tightened, a thin line of tears forming in her eyes. If she hadn't left... would he still be here now? If she'd stayed instead of walking away when he'd needed her, if she'd stayed to work through their conflicts... if she'd helped him deal with the stress of the Accords, if she'd been there to help him through finding out the truth of what had happened to his parents... could things have turned out differently? Tony had said that he'd never blamed her for walking away since he knew the impossible situation he put her in a lot of the time. And the constant worry about him every time he'd put on the suit had caused such a strain that she'd just had to step away. To breathe.
Though deep down, she'd known she'd go back. She hadn't planned to stay away too long. She knew she loved him because she always had, ever since she'd worked as his assistant. Because despite how he'd been with women at the time, and the reputation he'd had, he'd never been that way with her. Other than the occasional joke or harmless flirtatious remark, that is. But he'd always respected her, treated her as an equal, valued the work she did, trusted her. She'd realized what she felt for him after she'd heard what had happened to him in Afghanistan, her fear that'd lasted the entire three months he'd been in captivity, the immense relief she'd felt when she'd heard he was coming home...
But it had always been there. It had still been there when she'd walked away. And it was still there now.
She'd stayed away too long. She'd come back too late. She couldn't save him.
Pepper slowly sank down on the bed, her legs shaking too much to support her. She hadn't watched the breaking news report covering the discovery of Tony's body– she'd nearly collapsed in the penthouse when Steve came to inform her and Happy, and she would have if the Super Soldier hadn't been right there to catch her. She couldn't bring herself to see the images from down at the harbor, couldn't bring herself to see him. Burned, bruised... broken. That wasn't the way she wanted to think of him, to remember him.
Instead, the CEO reached out and picked up the framed photo on the nightstand to get a better look at it. At first, she'd been irritated at Happy for sneaking this picture, but then she'd realized how special it was and decided to have it framed. She lightly traced her fingertips over the glass. Tony looked so carefree, his smile broad without the weight of the world burdening him down. And she was lingering close to him, laughing effortlessly. She couldn't remember exactly what joke it'd been, but she certainly remembered how they'd felt together here.
Effortless. Easy. Happy. Just as it had been again– for the first time in a long time– for them the morning he'd asked her to join him for breakfast before he'd disappeared. It had felt just like she saw them in this picture. She thought about how they'd held hands, how at times their faces had been so close that they easily could have closed that lingering gap if they'd wanted to. How she had wanted to, but felt it hadn't quite been the right time. There'd been something he'd wanted to tell her, she'd been able to tell, though she hadn't pushed him on it. She'd figured he'd tell her when he was ready.
But now, he wouldn't get the chance. They'd been so close to starting to work their way back to where they'd once been, she'd felt it.
But now...
Pepper clumsily set the photograph aside, unable to see it through the tears falling steadily from her eyes. Her body shook with sobs, and she laid back against the pillows before wrapping her arms protectively around herself and bringing her knees close to her.
Tony was dead.
The words were still foreign to her, her brain couldn't process them. She'd always known this was a possibility, ever since he'd donned the Iron Man suit and joined the Avengers Initiative. Ever since he'd brought a nuclear missile through a wormhole. There had been some close calls and false alarms over the years, but this time... this time was different.
There was a quiet whisper in her heart, a feeling of hope that the billionaire was still alive out there somewhere. She'd know if he was dead, she was sure of it. But it was crushed by the grief of reality.
The man she loved was dead.
Pepper grabbed one of the pillows, hugging it to her chest as her body trembled, and buried her face in the soft material in effort to stifle her sobs. Instantly, she was hit by the nearly overwhelming essence of Tony. The pillow smelled like him, consuming her senses. His shampoo, the minty aftershave he used... the familiar scents she'd come to associate with him. While she had been using a guest room at the Tower, he had stayed here...
It was comforting, in a way. Almost like he was still with her.
But at the same time...
She tightened her hold on the pillow, desperately clutching any lingering trace of him close to her since she wasn't willing to let him go, as a loud, pained wail escaped from her.
When Peter wandered into the penthouse, he saw he wasn't alone.
Sam, Scott, Natasha, and Clint were standing at one of the bars, each with a drink in their hand as they talked in quiet tones. Wanda was stretched out on one of the couches, appearing to be deep in thought, while Vision sat next to her, staring blankly into space. Steve sat on the arm of another couch, focused on wrapping some bandages around his right hand. Rhodey stood at the large windows, staring out at where the thick, dark smoke was still billowing into the night sky. Pepper and Happy were nowhere to be seen.
Sorrow... anger... guilt... regret... It was all so palpable that the air was thick with emotion. The teen found it hard to breathe.
Why was everyone feeling so guilty? Why wasn't there more blame? At him?
"I... I'm sorry, everyone," he mumbled, his voice cracking as more tears rose to his eyes and threatened to fall. "I... I should have done more... to save him..."
The room went silent as everyone turned to look at him. Sam and Scott exchanged sympathetic glances. Clint sighed heavily while Natasha's face seemed to soften ever so slightly. Wanda slowly sat up while Vision's gaze saddened. Steve paused and looked up from what he was doing while Rhodey shook his head.
The Captain stood while the colonel took a couple steps away from the windows. They paused, gazing at each other intently for a moment before Rhodey continued walking toward the web-slinger. Peter noticed that the leg braces seemed to be giving him a bit of a hard time, but then he looked up into the man's face as he stopped in front of him. He saw his stern expression soften.
"It's not your fault, kid," Rhodey assured him quietly. "Tony would have done anything he could to make sure you were safe."
The words didn't do much to absolve his guilt, and the teen hated when a few of his tears fell as his shoulders began to shake. He wanted the Avengers to take him seriously, like someone who could help them avenge Tony. He didn't want them to see him like this, like he was weak...
Without a word, the Colonel reached out and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close as Peter finally gave in and clung to him tightly.
With a sigh, Steve slowly made his way over to them. Rhodey met his gaze, and he was surprised to see gratitude there. He set a comforting hand on Peter's shaking back, not too surprised when the web-slinger reached out with one hand and tightly grasped his arm.
Before the Captain could offer any words of comfort, the elevator dinged.
They all turned toward the source of the sound, the glowing numbers above the doors starting to rise as the elevator made its way up. Someone else was in the Tower.
"Anyone else you know planning on joining us, Rhodey?" Clint asked as he set his drink down.
"No," the Colonel answered stiffly. "No one else has a key, and this place is locked up tight."
"Well, they got in somehow," Steve muttered. He left Rhodey and Peter and crossed the room, making sure he was standing between the occupants of the penthouse and the elevator. Clint joined him while Sam and Natasha stood on the Captain's other side.
"We doing this fight here and now?" Scott wondered as he and Wanda took their places behind them, Vision hovering close to the latter.
"Be ready," Natasha told him evenly.
From where they still stood closer to the windows, Rhodey tightened his hold around Peter's shoulders. The teen tensed, watching as the numbers continued to rise before stopping at the floor of the penthouse.
The elevator dinged again. Everyone tensed, prepared.
A moment later, the doors slid open. Two people stepped out. Everyone stared in disbelief.
The bald man who'd stepped into the penthouse first wore a black leather jacket, his hands tucked in the pockets as he surveyed the group with one piercing eye. The second was covered by a black eye patch. A slender woman with her black hair tied back in a ponytail wearing a brown bomber jacket stood a step behind him.
Nick Fury shook his head slightly as he looked at all the shocked faces staring back at him.
"Well, well, well. Now y'all are assembled."
Author's Note: That ending section was originally going to start the next chapter, but I decided that Nick Fury's entrance demanded the ending of this one, lol. Muchas gracias to CoffeeRanger for some ideas with the Pepper section! And thank you all for reading! Your reviews are much appreciated. And as we keep going, expect anything. Until next time!