It's been a long time without updates out of sheer laziness and a hesitance to finish what has become my favourite story so far. Look out for more Avengers fictions from me in future but for now, thanks for being on the journey with Tony & I.

TONY

Tony's life has always come down to choices.

It started when he was very young. His father decided the tiny robot - nothing more than a 'dummy' - that aged 4 Tony made was of no worth; not when there was weapon blueprints he needed drawn up. (Genius.) So little Tony had to choose - appease his father. Or defy him and (hopefully) live with the consequences. He never did see that robot again. (Well, not until years later, when Tony was designing his workshop and needed robotic assistants. If it was a slightly bigger replica and had the same name, well…).

The next time Tony had a big choice was at 14. He was going off to college, the child protége of the famous Stark family; of course everyone wanted to know him. He felt content. He drank and was merry until he drank too much - and he learned he didn't have a choice in everything, not when he said no. So next time, every time, he was going to say yes. It ended up hurting less. Well, physically at least. (Playboy.)

Then of course, came Afghanistan. He became incredibly rich through all the wrong ways (Billionaire). So he made a choice to always do the right thing in future. And that one…that one hurt the most. Take now, for example.

It was a normal mission. Well, as normal as a giant explosive spitting three-headed snake tearing through Manhattan can be. Then it all went to shit. Again. Tony, usually the fastest and the one with the eyes everywhere was asked by Cap to rescue the civilians trapped in a building that was about to fall down. He was on is way there as fast as he could be, really he was, and then his sensors picked up an explosion by a school with potential casualties. Tony had seconds to decide and no time to communicate. He got those kids from the school away and safe. And he made it back to the building just in time. He saved 27 people. There were 29 inside. Because he couldn't be faster, better, just think a bit more, 2 people died on his watch. Tony always makes choices. He always chooses the wrong one.

So here he is, post-mission. He missed the debrief, of course. The others probably thought he was too impatient to sit through it but he can't sit in that room with these heroes, these people that do good, that he looks up to with everything he has, and try to justify the reason he lost 2 people. So he's sitting on a cliff outside of the city watching the sun go down over the ocean. It's peaceful. He can think here. Think about all the mistakes he makes. All those wrong fucking choices. Why can't he just be good? He's trying. It's just never enough.

"Sir…after the events of today, I don't believe you should be out alone currently and you already have several missed calls from all of your teammates who are quite-"

"JARVIS, I don't want to be interrupted by angry Avengers, but thanks."

"Actually Sir, if I may-"

"JARVIS."

His AI pauses and then quietly begins again. "It was not your fault, Sir. You were not to-"

"Mute."

He can't hear empty platitudes right now. Not when empty eyes of those bodies he had to pull from the rubble himself are haunting him. He doesn't even know their names. God, he's going to be sick. Tony just wants to understand. For all of his genius, he can't figure this thing out. He's got all the numbers, the algorithms, and yet, he doesn't know why or how he keeps fucking up. He needs to understand. All he knows is there's a common denominator to everyone's problems and it's him. It's so frustrating.

He takes off his helmet to get away from JARVIS's nonverbal but visual reminders that his responsibilities in the form of medical and avengers are waiting for him. And of course, the sunset looks 5 times better outside the helmet. The helmet's thrown to the side where he can't see it; so he doesn't have to stare into emotionless slits where eyes should be and wonder too closely if art imitates life or if it's the other way around. It's not helping. How can it? It's not the suit that's heartless. If anyone is a better representation of a man with an empty chest, it's him. He can't give love when he's loveless.

Tony grabs his hair in his hands and pulls. He'll get the answer; he has to. It hurts now, he's pulling so hard. Good. He doesn't stop pulling. He hasn't self harmed in a long time. Not since Rhodey grabbed him by the scruff and begged him to stop. He said it was out of worry, that "Please, Tony, you're scarin' me here. You're gonna kill yourself man, I can't lose you, ok? I won't." Can't have the company face a suicide scandal right? And without Tony, where was the military gonna get the best weaponry from? Rhodey's his best friend but he's not naive enough to believe that he's Rhodey's. He doesn't play well with others, right?

He's tired of trying to fight when all he wants to do is fly. And not with the suit either. How easy it would be to just step out of the suit fall from the cliff and fly for a little while. And then at the bottom…well, he's not going to heaven, anyway. He's standing on the precipice now; so very near. The electronic joints lock up; JARVIS holding him back again. He's not getting any further and he knows it. He wasn't going to anyway; that's the easy thing to do. Which is why he can't.

He's got issues, he knows it. Hell, they all know now. He zones out. He just needs an escape sometimes. He's looked it up; he knows he's fucked up in the head but at least now he has confirmation; that thousand yard fucking stare. More like a million yards. With a million more to go. It's a losing battle, he knows. Tony feels like the weight of the universe is on his shoulders, never mind the world. He's seen more of it than most, anyway. It's all so meaningless.

He isn't sure why he does this anyway. Thor can fly; he's wise and friendly. Natasha; she has more skill than he's ever seen. She's managed to turn her horrific childhood into something good. Why can't he? Bruce and Clint; they feel like outsiders, like they don't belong, and yet they fit so much better into this band of brothers than he could ever hope to. And Steve…Steve is the human embodiment of rightness and pureness. There's no jigsaw piece Tony fits into. He wants to stop. Everything. But he can't.

Sighing deeply, he stands up and grabs his helmet.

"How long this time, JARVIS?"

"…two hours, Sir. I was becoming close to initiating protocol BETA6 and contacting the Captain; he and the others have become quite frantic."

"Two hours, huh? New record. Go me. Patch him through. Can't get his stars and strips boxers in a twist."

"Of course."

While he waits for the call, he looks out over the ocean again. It's dark now, the sun merging with horizon at some point during his zone out. The water looks cold and unforgiving, and so so inviting. It's chaotic and it's stronger than him. Like everything else. One step, that's all. He could give in, he could-

"Tony?!"

-he could answer the phone.

"Here, Cap."

"Tony, thank god." In the background, he hears what he's potentially mishearing as relieved voices from his teammates shouting his name. "Are you alright? You left right after the mission, are you hurt? Do you need Bruce?"

"I'm fine. Sorry. About the mission, I mean."

"About the…? Oh, Tony…" Steve sounds so sad for him and now he's just plain confused.

"Look, just come home, huh? It's movie night and it's your turn to pick. We're all waiting for you, Shellhead."

"On my way."

Helmet back on and secured, he prepares to fly, but pauses.

"Shall we keep going, Sir?"

Tony knows he means with more than the preflight checks. He reacts. He breathes in the clear air. He laughs. He takes his pain and hides it once more. He wastes no more time. Because Tony's life comes down to choices.

"Yeah, Jarvis. I'll keep going."