NOTE: this chapter packs an emotional punch, in my opinion. Tony's pretty messed up about the Snap, and so is Leigh. Also, my version of FRIDAY is probably a bit more familiar/has more personality, compared to the 'real' one, but IMO Tony tweaked her a bit.
Chapter Three
Tony doesn't push her, in the morning. He remains coolly neutral and respectful, but he does silently note that she's wearing a lot of layers. He catches a glimpse of the leggings (did she sleep in them? Did he make her afraid to change in her own damned tent?) under her favorite skirt. Over the white blouse is a sunny yellow cardigan that's knitted, possibly handmade.
They start to take down the tents and put everything away in silence, and it feels so condemning that Tony pulls out his phone, walks over to Leigh, and hands it to her with the music app up.
"Pick a playlist? I'm dying, here."
She levels her rich brown eyes at him for a few seconds, a tiny smile haunting her mouth, and then nods. He doesn't name his playlists anymore, thank God, but for the amount of scrolling she's doing, it's possible she might get down to the ones from back when he did. Finally, she picks something, taps it, and hands the phone back.
The screen is dark, but he can hear quiet music starting to build, so he gives her a bit of a suspicious look, cranks the volume, and sets the phone up before he resumes taking his tent down. Leigh had only scrolled up and down, then tapped, so he knows the song is in his library, but it takes a long time to build, and he doesn't recognize it.
Until he does, and his hands still. Nothing Else Matters, by Metallica.
He can't change it, because doing that would just betray how well the lyrics of the damned song fit. It's about trust, and opening up. Tony forces himself to keep going, doesn't turn around, doesn't acknowledge anything. Maybe Leigh liked the title, maybe she's not much for metal music and chose a ballad, there's a million explanations that don't have to have a deeper meaning.
Never opened myself this way / Life is ours, we live it our way. Eventually the song ends, the playlist shifts to a harder one, and after a while the site looks pretty much the way it had before, with flatter, trampled grass. Tony offers Leigh money for the supplies, and she reminds him via the tablet that she used the line of credit he'd extended to the company.
He makes a flippant comment about still emailing, and she nods without a smile, and he'll take it, but ouch. He hops into the pickup and pulls out his phone, pretending to look down at it as he looks at her reflection in his side mirror. She's covered her face with both hands, and when she drops them she's looking up at the sky, shaking her head. Tony starts the truck, and she moves out of the way, waving with a wan smile.
Tony thinks there's a 50% chance she'll offload the project, or at the very least, all communication. On the drive to the airport, he impulsively orders FRIDAY not to let him look up anything to do with Leigh Balci for a full two weeks, starting immediately. Only exceptions are for the project they're working on.
He regrets that the second he sets foot in the door at home, but FRIDAY is implacable.
At first he tries to banish all thoughts of her, because he doesn't want to push too hard when it comes to the emails. Ideally, she'll send the first one. So Tony doesn't let himself think about her.
That first night he dreams of honeybees. The house he's so excited to build is finished, and out in neat lines by the lake are five beehive boxes, just like he saw in a video once. Tony wears his Iron Man suit out to collect the honey, in this dream, and is swarmed. He goes back and tries wearing the regular suit, the kind that looks like something the bad medical people wore in the ET movie, and he's swarmed again.
Only when dream-Tony walks out wearing his regular clothes do the bees welcome him, their honeycombs bursting with rich, golden honey. When he wakes up it feels like he's had that dream every night for a week, even though it was the first time. He has the dream repeatedly over the next two weeks, and one of the times really sticks with him. In that one, he reaches out and grabs a gooey, warm handful of honey, right from the comb. The golden color spills over his fingers, down the back of his hand. When he wakes up, it's with the image of Leigh's hair in his hand, instead. Before he understands what he's doing, he brings that hand to his face and smells it. Tony's disappointed when it doesn't smell like a woman's shampoo.
He asks FRIDAY what the date is, and groans when there's still three days left of his Leigh embargo. The whole idea was a complete failure; in fact it may have even made him think about her more than if he'd gotten it out of his system right away. He's not used to waiting.
"FRIDAY, come on. This just made things wors-"
"Can't do it, Boss," his AI interrupts with her insolent deference. "Not sure why you chose a full two weeks."
"I thought, this is the earliest you can email her, so maybe keeping her out of your brain for that long will help. Spoilers: it did not. Not at all. This is doing a friend of mine a disservice, FRIDAY. This turned me into an obsessive."
"Oh, I think we both know that's not true."
Tony has one more thing to try. "It's my birthday tomorrow!"
"That sounds like a failure to plan ahead, Boss."
He didn't think it would work, but it had been worth the shot. He could recode FRIDAY, hell, he could drop by a fucking library, make a show of giving a donation, and search her up at one of the kiosks. But it's the principle of the thing, and so he'll wait, like he ought to.
"Okay, well, I'm off for three days, the embargo lifts in three, gimme a project I set aside. This is a good time to get lost in something."
He chooses the bunker protocol, an emergency safe room that will construct itself around him if he calls it. It's impractical and possibly dangerous, but it has the level of complication that he's looking for. The logistics that he has to sort through to make it even remotely possible are exactly the right kind of distracting.
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Tony had been hoping that fate would send him a message from Leigh on his birthday, but the whole day passes with nothing. Then, very late in the evening, he gets a notification.
TO: Mechanic270
FROM: FLBalci
SUBJECT: Next Steps
Greetings from your exhausted friend,
Sorry for the radio silence (as opposed to actual silence, recently!). I lost a colleague to a heart attack two days after I got back from West Virginia. Because we're about to start a new phase with your build, I set that aside and picked up for Frank as best I could. I wanted to at least get his client in to choose a new architect or advise on a new firm. It was rough.
I only just tonight finished transitioning him over to Branson, who is picking up the project personally. I don't know why, but it felt like I should let you know what's been going on before I pack up and head home. I'd like to extend a professional apology for not communicating about this sooner; it's the first time many of us have lost someone since, well. Since.
Frank and his wife lost their only daughter in the Snap. His wife isn't coping very well, and neither am I, which is selfish as fuck because we weren't even that close. I'm probably not going to hit send on this, but it's cathartic, so whatever.
When I was little, my parents were the 'kneel by the side of the bed and say your prayers' kind. I used to forget family members as I listed them to pray. I hated it. Is it bad that I feel guilty about that, now?
Stars, I know we all cope in our own ways, but how, how, Tony, do you cope? Or do you? I should turn off the computer and go home, I'm tired and sloppy and I bet you didn't know I swore at all, much less this much.
Because it's what we do, I'll answer that tough question, 'cause I don't want to imagine what sort of question you'd come up with in its stead. How do *I* cope, you ask?
Every month, I picked a family member and I took part in one of their favorite things. This month was the last one, so I'm finally done with all thirteen. If you know about me, you're probably making a face, right? 'But Leigh, all the news articles say you lost twelve relatives in the Snap!' It was thirteen, if you count my sister-in-law's unborn baby.
Lana was married to Kent, my parents' second son. Charlie, the oldest, he was married to Missy, and they wanted kids since forever. Married for ten years, no kids. So when Lana got pregnant, she only told Kent, me, and Mom, because they didn't want to hurt Missy if there was a loss, you know?
And there was. A loss, I mean. They were all lost. So last night, in honor of Lana and Kent's baby, after I got home from work I curled up in bed, nice and tight in the blankets, and I spoke out loud about every single wonderful memory I had of that baby's parents. Went through a whole box of kleenex and a voice box too, it feels like. I ache.
I used to think of what I would do if there was a way to reverse the Snap. I know you and your team tried to stop it with all your might, down to your very last atom. If I could help that baby come back, Tony, I think I'd do just about anything.
This is dumb, okay, but: if you ever find out a way, tell me. Let me help. I don't care if it's to sew up the holes in everyone's socks before they leave, I want to help. It's a dick move for me to even bring it up, but I cried about as much water as sits in your lake last night, and I'm dried up and sad about Frank, and Lana, and Kent, the baby, Missy, and Charlie, and everyone.
I'll only ever ask you this once, Tony, and then I'll never bring it up again, I swear to God.
Please tell me you punched that guy.
I just… I need to know.
All right, I'll delete this in the morning,
Leigh
Tony stares at the name at the end of her email, looks at the time, and realizes that she'd probably hit send by rote, by accident, when she was done typing it. Somewhere in D.C. right now, Leigh's probably got her hand over her mouth in shock, realizing what she just did. There is a tidal wave of emotion Tony's holding back. The thing is, he realizes he can help- but he has to do it right NOW.
TO: FLBalci
FROM: Mechanic270
SUBJECT: I did.
I punched him, Leigh. A whole lot.
And then he killed me, Tony doesn't type. He hits send, instead. Then, because it's no fun being a billionaire if you can't do impulsive things for your friends, he sends a taxi to Charriotte, the kind where the guy parks, knocks to tell you they're there, and holds the doors open for his passenger. He gets the message that it arrived, five minutes after he sent the order.
Leigh shouldn't have to drive home feeling like that. Or ride public transport.
There are stories all across the universe like hers.
"Happy Birthday, Tony," he says. He didn't get himself anything, but tonight, her email feels like it might be what he deserves.
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In the first week of June, Tony gets a call from Branson Harriot asking if he'd like to come to D.C. and formally fill out all of the paperwork to start the construction. He'll be finalizing certain parts of the house, with more specific internal stuff still to be determined. Harriot tells him that he gave Leigh the week off, and he knows it's unconventional, but, he says, 'knowing Leigh, she'll drop by anyway.'
Tony jumps at the chance. He offers to come the next day. He's coming off of a two day Leigh Balci marathon, having watched all footage of her that had been obtained by the news agencies who wrote about her as a human interest story. He's read hundreds of articles (it's really astonishing how many websites just crib off of each other!), watched family films, seen her riding a horse with her hair flowing out behind her, the whole nine yards.
He had known when he woke up the morning his embargo lifted that he was about to do something irrevocable. Tony's not stupid, he knows he has a crush, and fostering it has potential to make it grow into something else. But this feels wonderful, the kind of exhilarating that you can't replicate with adrenaline. She's not entirely indifferent to him, he's certain of that, but she's also no easy mark. For once, he's the pursuer, not the pursued.
Tony thinks about the dream where he woke up seeing his hand buried in Leigh's hair. He hopes that might someday be possible. There have been women in the past he's seen and wondered what a night with them would be like, but Pepper had grown on him so slowly before he couldn't do without her that this thing with Leigh is an entirely different beast. Tony wonders what a night with Leigh would be like, aches to find out, yes- but he's kind of curious about what a life with her might be like, too.
Now he doesn't know whether he's grateful (this is too new of a conclusion for him to be in any way prepared to see her in person) or disappointed (he just… really wants to see her) that she's off this week. He wears one of his nicest suits just in case.
Besides the prospect of seeing Leigh, though, Tony's excited about his house. So, after settling in at Charriotte, he gets engrossed in the details. It turns out that at this firm, the construction logistics wouldn't be handled by Leigh anyway, so he's not missing out like he initially thought. He chooses all of the most environmentally friendly options, even though going the other way might be a specific fuck you to Thanos. Tony draws the line at screwing up his own planet to spite a long-dead Titan.
He goes to a fancy restaurant with Branson Harriot that evening, and they have a great conversation about Stark Industries, Charriotte, and Branson's family. The other man never had kids, is unashamedly grateful for that now, because he's watched other people's relationships get torn apart by the Snap. Losing a spouse to that event is one thing, Branson says, but getting divorced because you can't take the grief of losing some of your kids? That's worse, he tells Tony. He's seen it happen. The country's divorce rate is only now starting to stabilize after a huge spike, and Harriot says he thinks it has nowhere to go but down, thanks to the 'soulmate thing.'
Tony's been stuck in these conversations before, knows the only way out is through, so he sits there and listens as Harriot tells him that he had never forgotten the first thing his wife said to him when they met. When the awful day was over and they'd both survived it, he'd found those words on his hand, written like an arrow straight across his palm. He shows Tony.
This guy? You have got to be kidding me!
Branson finds it deeply amusing that his response was chivalry. "'I beg your pardon, madame.' She never lived it down, and now it's written on her knee!" he says, wheezing.
Unfortunately, this is one of the most accepted subjects for small talk, nowadays. Tony is grateful for his eccentricities, which he can fall back on when asked about his own Words. Sometimes he claims he doesn't have any. One time, he told the absolute truth, and the stranger had laughed like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. What he doesn't say, what he knows he absolutely should not say, is that Thanos's supposed 'gift' is a panacea, a placebo, a fix it with no heft, a fake, a lie.
He's met Thanos. He's a murderer at a scale hitherto undreamt of, to quote a long-dead colleague. There's no mercy, there's no grace, there's just camouflaged cruelty. But no one wants to hear that at dinner.
"So, Tony, what are yours? Have you found her? Him?"
Tony likes Branson, so he spreads out his hands in the universal sign of 'what can you do?' and says, "Branson, I'm Tony Stark. What do you think my Words say?"
Branson chuckles. "That's a good question. I'm torn between sex kitten and frigid scorn, honestly."
"I mean, who isn't?" Tony laughs.
The subject changes, and Tony rests a hand in his lap as if he can block out the Soulmark's line of sight, under the table. Eventually, his hand relaxes, and he forgets why he'd put it there in the first place.
8888888888
The next day, he's at Charriotte only to wrap up. The paperwork is finished by 9 AM, and Tony goes to say goodbye to Branson at his office. He's just about to get up and leave when the door opens and he hears a woman's voice.
"Branson, honestly, you could have told me!"
Tony turns and it's Leigh. He'd never heard her voice before, but now that he has, he can't believe he didn't recognize it right away. It's warm, vibrant, and his strong positive reaction to it has to be showing on his face, because she literally jumps in surprise to see that it's him.
"Ah yes, I don't suppose I need to introduce you two," Branson says, getting up and walking around his desk. Tony goes to stand, but Leigh widens her eyes at him as Branson's back is turned, making a 'sit' gesture. Then, she pulls Branson over to the corner and starts speaking in a low whisper that he can't hear. Leigh's faced away from him, so he just looks at her, taking in the powder blue suit jacket and short, pleated chiffon skirt in the same color. It's right on the edge of professional office wear, and Tony thinks with a pang that she'd probably have to conform more if it hadn't been for the Snap.
Her hair, as always, is bound up in an 18th century masterpiece on her head, and Tony thinks he can see dragonfly pins embedded in it.
Tony wants to take her home and introduce her to Rhodey and say, triumphantly, See! I don't need a soulmate!
Instead, he sits and waits impatiently, counting dragonflies (three) until she and Branson walk back to his desk. Tony stands up, and when she turns around, he smiles as gently as possible at her. She looks apologetic, starts to walk past, then seems to realize she hadn't really acknowledged him except to order him to sit, earlier. Leigh reaches out, squeezes his arm, and walks out without having said a word.
"She took Frank's death a little hard, I think," Branson says. "So did you make a date for breaking ground?"
"Ironically, I think I need to talk to her about it," Tony says, turning back around to look behind him at the door Leigh left through.
Branson's smile is strained. "Well, maybe stick to email for a while yet. I think early July ought to be fine for us, schedule-wise. I can mention it to her, if you like?"
"Of course," Tony says, wondering what's going on. He remembers her email and wonders if she's lost for something to make her feel grounded, this month. Would it be too presumptuous of him, he wonders, if he suggested she do something Frank would have enjoyed? "It's been a pleasure," he says, reaching out to shake Harriot's hand.
"Likewise, Stark."
On his way out, Tony looks around, ostensibly searching for the bathroom. He walks past an unoccupied office with lace curtains and stops, bemused. Peeking in for just a second, he notes that there is a plant stand beside her desk with a spider plant dangling from it, and on the desk is a pot of violets. Her desk itself has one of those glass plates that lay across papers or calendars or whatnot, but of course, Leigh's is full of variously-sized white lace doilies and pressed flowers.
Tony wonders if anyone thinks of his workspace as that dedicated to a theme, and then thinks about what it's looked like over the years, and nods. Yes, yes they would.
8888888888
TO: FLBalci
FROM: Mechanic270
SUBJECT: That was weird, right?
Hey,
I'm thinking maybe I should have warned you that Branson called me to come down and do the site paperwork. Sorry.
Tony
TO: Mechanic270
FROM: FLBalci
SUBJECT: Re: That was weird, right?
Greetings from aforementioned tiny apartment,
Full disclosure: I was not prepared to see you that day in the office. I don't really have an explanation, except for the fact that I'd been pretty emotionally ripped up the week before, enough to take time off, and I'd poured my soul out entirely accidentally in that email. I had compartmentalized you into the 'emotional' column, I guess, and seeing you at work just threw me.
I'm sorry,
Leigh
He tells himself not to read anything into the fact that Leigh has put him into the 'not work' column, but it's a losing battle. Tony decides that his goal for groundbreaking day is that Leigh Balci is going to speak to him for the first time since he met her. It's an odd situation, an odd goal, all things considered, so he keeps it to himself. No need to jinx it.
8888888888
They set the date for the start of construction for Monday, July 1st. Because he's got some things he wants to leave at the site, Tony rents a van, loads it up, and drives down from NYC. It's a seven hour drive and the groundbreaking is at 8 AM, so he does the ridiculous and naps from 7 PM the night before until 11 PM and drives straight through. Tony doesn't want the rented van to be in the way, so he parks it off to the side, away from where all of the construction vehicles are staging.
He gets out, uses the portapotty with gratitude, and looks around for Leigh. It's an unseasonably chilly morning for July, 55 fahrenheit, and everywhere he looks are flannel shirts, like some kind of cliche. Everyone's wearing hard hats, and he snags one from a line of them near a table with blueprints held down by rocks. Tony wonders if Leigh's hard hat will have lace on it, or stenciled flowers. He wouldn't put it past her- she's dedicated to her aesthetic, and it really works.
Tony walks up to the guy wearing the different colored hard hat and they talk about the project for a while as others gather around them, some of them taking out their cell phones to snap pictures. He doesn't mind, he's used to it. The ceremony starts up, low-key but still exciting enough for him because of the project itself, and for a lot of the workers because he's still Iron Man. Tony's wearing the ARC reactor under his shirt, and he undoes enough buttons to show them its glow.
The foreman gets the whole thing in motion now that the ceremonial stuff is through, but he catches Tony's eye, letting him know he'd like to talk some more at some point. Tony nods, and starts back toward the van, so he can show the guy the supplies he's talking about, and figure out a good place to store them. He almost walks right over Leigh on the way, mostly because she's wearing oversized tan overalls, a jacket from the same material, and a long braid. He didn't recognize her in the hard hat and construction clothes.
"Hey, good to see you," Tony says, meaning it.
Leigh's brown eyes are large and startled, and then, for some reason, sad. She makes a frustrated face and just… scatters. It's not running away, but that might be semantics. Tony remembers his goal for today, and half wonders if she knows about it and is thwarting him. But no, she'd looked unhappy, and he's very confused.
Tony grits his teeth and heads to the van, setting things up the way he'd planned to, and then he grabs his own StarkPad and stylus, scribbling an angry-but-legible message to hold up.
Then, his jaw set in determination, Tony stands in Leigh's line of sight and holds his tablet with a flat hand on either side. It's obvious, and the message is clear. She's not going to be able to ignore him without the attention of the entire worksite.
I need to speak with you, Miss Balci. ASAP.
The man she's going over supplies with points over at Tony, and he can see her reading it. Leigh's eyes fly up to meet his, and she looks nervous. If it hadn't been for the fact that he's known her for nearly three months now and she hasn't spoken a word to him yet, he would take pity on her for that look alone. But not today. This strangeness stops now.
She shakes her head 'no,' and something inside Tony snaps. He starts toward her, setting the tablet down on the table.
"I need her," Tony says, reaching out and grabbing Leigh's wrist to drag her along behind him. He leads her toward the cluster of bushes where he saw her for the first time and past them; twenty feet, thirty feet. The point is to get them out of earshot of all of her subordinates so he can properly express his frustration without diminishing her authority.
When he stops walking, he turns around and sees that she's lost her hard hat somewhere. "I didn't drag you too fast, did I?" he asks, frowning.
Leigh shakes her head, rubbing at her wrist.
"All right. What is going on?" he barks, sucking in a deep breath and holding out a hand in a slight apology. She's a grown woman, he doesn't need to holler at her. "You recognize this is aberrant behavior, right? Not speaking to a client is one thing, but I'd like to think we're friends. So what is it?"
Her eyes are screwed shut, her hands held at chest level, palm out, fingers spread.
"Is it Iron Man? You swore an oath on the life of your family, or something?" he snaps. It's cruel, he's always had a vindictive temper.
Fire sparks in her eyes, and Leigh takes a huge breath, her mouth twisting in anger. She takes two steps so she's standing right in front of him, her hands in fists at her sides. "Maybe it was too much to expect that you could save the world, but you didn't stop there, no, you had to take away all my hopes and dreams too!"
Then, she turns on her heel and stalks away.