Resigned to Fate, Fading Away
Two months after what the world called the Decimation, Tony had made a break for it after Pepper dropped a major bomb on his head. He found himself outside of an abandoned apartment in Queens. He pulled out his spare key and crashed through the Parker's old apartment. It was time he cleared it out anyway. Happy said he’d do it but Tony wanted too. He felt it was the least he could do. He owed it to them. To do it himself. He knew Happy cared for the kid and his aunt too. And that he wanted to do this for him too. Tony would let him help eventually. But it may be selfish of him and probably not a healthy coping mechanism but he needed something to remind him the kid was real. At some point. That he wasn’t just the dust and the ash he saw every time he closed his eyes. He needed to do it by himself first without someone watching his heart break a thousand times over again.
He stepped into the kid’s room and his breath caught. It was covered in dust, the very thing he hated. And it looked much like the boy’s room in the compound (that had been left untouched as well). Only it was a much smaller version. He propped a box open and started carefully putting things into it. He couldn’t rush this. These were Peter’s things and Tony would keep them safe for him. He pulled a box off of the top bunk of the bed. Peter used it for storage, Tony remembered, or as space for his friend, Ned, to sleep over. (He tried not to think about the fact that his friend was gone too.)
A familiar event name scrawled across the top of the box in a child’s handwriting with red and gold sharpie caught his eye.
STARK EXPO 2010
The kid had been there? Of all places. Had they met back then? Did the kid get hurt? Why hadn’t the kid ever said anything to him about it? He slowly opened it, afraid of what he would find.
The first thing he saw was the trademark red and gold child-sized Ironman helmet. He choked. The kid couldn’t have been that kid. But if he was, Tony knew he shouldn’t be that surprised. But the kid just couldn’t be that same kid. Lots of kids had this helmet. He tried to convince himself. They had sold it after all. He looked through the rest of the contents of the box. His stomach dropped. Little red repulsor gloves. And a terrifyingly recognizable outfit, small blue jacket with a white expo t-shirt.
He was flying scanning the area for those cursed Hammer drones when his eye caught sight of a tiny kid, Ironman helmet on his head. A Hammer suit with its target locked on the kid. The kid didn’t run and inwardly Tony begged him to while he pushed his own suit to go faster. But instead of running the kid held up his hand that bore a fake repulsor glove the way Tony himself did when he was aiming. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he watched this kid despite the fact that what he saw scared the shit out of him. He landed just next to the kid and copied his stance, arm raised and sent out a blast effectively destroying the rogue suit. The kid jumped back in shock while Tony took off.
“Nice work, Kid.”
Tony sank to the floor by The kid’s, the Expo Kid’s, bunk bed and leaned against the bottom bunk and hugged the little toy helmet to his chest.
The kid, his kid, Peter, was that kid. The kid from the worst expo in existence that haunted Tony’s dreams. The one that he would occasionally see in his sleep getting blasted by a hacked suit because he hadn’t been fast enough.
He knew he shouldn’t be as surprised as he was. Because of course, his kid would be that kid. It made sense. No one else would face danger head on as if daring it to try him.
No one else was that stubborn, that brave, that reckless.
Tony couldn’t help but laugh to himself. It was no wonder that kid had grown up to become Spider-Man. He looked up at the ceiling and whispered.
“Nice work, kid.”
After who knows how long, he fished out his phone.
Clint got a phone call while he was in New York City, black hood hanging behind his neck as he stepped into the abandoned hotel he had taken refuge in for the time being. Tony Stark flashed on the screen as the caller ID. Clint wasn’t sure why he still had his phone; it's not like he really used it any more. Most of the time he ignored everyone’s calls and texts, including Natasha’s. Maybe he just didn’t want to get rid of the old messages from kids and Laura.
He didn’t know what made him do it but he answered the call.
“Pep told me she’s pregnant,” Tony Stark choked out in greeting. “Has been this whole time. She just told me.”
“I-that’s- wow- I,” Clint started out after a beat of silence.
“I can’t be a father,” Tony said. “A real one. Not now, Not after—“
He cut himself off and Clint still didn’t know what to say.
“You’ll do fine,” Clint said finally. That’s what he was supposed to say, right? He really was happy for his old friend. But it felt empty when he said it. “Congratulations.”
“This isn’t something to be happy about,” Tony snapped through the phone. “The world is a dumpster, literally. I can’t have a kid now. I already ruined it for the last one and he wasn’t even mine.”
“You didn’t,” Clint insisted. “That was beyond your control.”
“Beyond yours too,” Tony replied. They did that sometimes, tried to remind each other that the fate of the world wasn’t all on them. Neither of them believed it. It was an odd and surprising development to both of them.
“I ran, Barton, like a coward.” He continued. “She told me and I ran. I went to The Kid’s.”
Clint breathed in sharply. “Tony—“
“I met the kid, you know?” Tony cut him off. “Before I knew him.”
“That- that doesn’t make any sense, Stark.” Clint said.
“He came to an expo, the expo,” Tony said. “I didn’t know it was him. But I remember him. He was wearing this little Ironman helmet with a matching set of toy repulsor gloves and a cute little jacket and t-shirt. God I should have known, boy didn’t change at all. He practically wore the same thing when I met him to bring him to Germany. I only figured out it was him ‘cause I’m clearing his things out from their apartment. Found a box on his bed with the helmet and Expo things.”
He stopped talking but Clint didn’t say anything. On the other end, in Queens, Tony held up the mask to his face and looked It in the eyes. He could picture him so clearly. It just made so much sense.
“I saw him, that night, getting attacked by one of those stupid robots.” Tony said, “Kid didn’t even flinch, held up his hand like his toy gloves were going to do anything.”
“You saved him, didn’t you,” Clint whispered.
“Well, yeah, I saved him then,” Tony bit out harshly. The couldn’t save him in the end. Was left unsaid. “But that kid, I always remembered that kid. Always wondered who he was, until now. Part of me wishes I never found out.”
They sat in silence for a while. Tony on the floor in Queens tears slowly leaking out and Clint sinking on the edge of a mothy hotel bed.
“I almost got him killed, I did get him killed eventually.” Tony said. “Made him a new suit, two of them. The second one I used to catch him when he ran out of air on that god awful spaceship. Tried to send him back to the ground but the kid was right, it is ridiculously intuitive, I made it that way. Kid was right, it was my fault he stowed away.”
“It’s not!” Clint insisted.
“I can’t have a kid,” Tony said. “It’ll get hurt or killed or worse, like the other one. I already lost my kid. I can’t do that to another one. The things I make always got him hurt or killed or worse. Stark industries specialized in weapons after all.”
“Oh Tony no! You won’t, you won’t,” Clint argued.
“I wanted a suit of armor around the world,” Tony insisted. “Suits of armor couldn’t even save The Kid. I can’t protect another one.”
“You can!” Clint insisted. “We’ll help this time, all of us. I’ll help. I’ll make sure no one hurts them. I couldn’t protect my kids because I didn’t do anything. But I’ll do something for yours.”
Tony didn’t say anything on the other end.
“Tony, let yourself have this, you deserve some kind of hope,” Clint practically begged. “From what you’ve told me about your kid, The Kid, he’d want you to have hope, this could be that for you. Come on, man.”
After a moment of silence and some rustling. Tony responded.
“Ok, ok,” Tony said. “But don’t tell anyone about this, I don’t want anyone else to know, not even the team, not yet.”
“I get it,” Clint said. And he did. He had kept
his own kids a secret for as long as he could. He’d do that for Tony’s too.
The call ended. Clint drew an arrow from behind his back and threw it at the wall in anger.
It wasn’t fair!
He didn’t mean that it wasn’t fair that Tony got to have a new family. He was actually really genuinely happy for his friend. What wasn’t fair was that The Kid wasn't there to see it, to see his mentor get the happiness he deserved. That Clint’s own kids weren’t there but those criminals in the streets all over the world who were taking advantage of the chaotic state of the world were still out there. And those kids that brought hope and light to everyone they met were gone. That wasn’t fair!
He grabbed his bow and arrow and threw the black hood back over his head and stormed out of the hotel.
Later that night the news would read that the mysterious Ronin made their first kill that night of someone in New York City’s Tracksuit Mafia.
He sat on a roof top over a year later. Staring out into some city in Mexico. Tracking a drug cartel. He had blocked the numbers of everyone he knew. He should’ve ditched his phone. He had taken the GPS out of it so they would be less likely to track him. But he couldn't get himself to get rid of the phone entirely. It had pictures, videos of his kids, messages from them and from Laura. He should’ve because the unmistakable sound of thrusters were coming from the distance.
“You’re a hard man to track, Ronin, or should I say Birdbrain? Barton? Whatever you call yourself now,” Ironman said as he landed.
“You’ll blow my cover,” Ronin said, not even turning around to acknowledge him.
“Yeah no,” Tony said. “This isn’t gonna work. You know I don’t much like being ignored.”
“I responded.” Ronin replied.
“Why are you doing this, Barton,” Ironman asked, getting straight to the point.
“You know why,” he scowled. He turned around finally facing him.
“I’m afraid I don't, so you're going to have to elaborate.” The Ironman suit opened and Tony Stark stepped out wearing a harsh expression.
Yeah for a man who often denied he was a real dad, he had the dad voice and dad stare down pat.
“Trying to stop the criminals,” Clint finally bit out. “It’s what we’re supposed to do, right?”
“I’m pretty sure that didn’t originally involve murder,” Tony said.
“Sometimes it’s a necessity, you know that,” Clint scowled again.
“You know, I asked Spider-Man that same question once,” Tony remarked. Clint flinched at the casual mention of The kid. The one he never got to meet but heard so much about when the only way the two of them could cope was swapping stories about their kids. “Asked him why he was Spider-Man, why he was doing what he was doing. I liked his answer better than yours. He said ‘when you do the things that I can and you don’t and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you’.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Clint said. “They’re hurting people and I’m stopping them.”
“By killing them?” Tony asked, eyebrow arched. “Don’t you think there’s been enough of that going around?”
“They deserve it! You think they don’t?” Clint yelled. “They survived! Half the planet didn’t! And this is what they do! They hurt people. And I’m trying to stop them.”
“You know, I told Spider-Man that once. That sometimes it might be necessary to kill,” Tony remarked. “Yeah, see, I put an ‘Instant Kill Mode’ in his suit. Kid didn’t like that. We were upgrading the suit and you know what he had the audacity to ask me? He asked me to disable it! Can you believe it?”
“What’s your point, Stark?” Clint said, narrowing his eyes.
“I told him exactly what you said,” Tony said solemnly, ignoring him. “That it might be necessary and it’s good to be prepared. Point is, He told me that he didn’t want to kill anybody.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not him.” Clint said.
“Oh I’m aware,” Tony said tightly. “But this isn’t going to bring them back. They aren’t coming back.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Clint glared. “You got a second chance, you still have a family.”
“You’re right,” Tony said. “I do. Somehow I got lucky.”
“Yeah well I didn’t,” Clint said.
“You could,” Tony said.
Clint looked at him sharply. How dare he?
“I’m not telling you to move on, Lord knows I didn’t,” Tony pushed on. “I’m not telling you to forget them. I’m not even going to tell you to stop whatever this is. Not entirely, anyways, because you’re right, bad guys suck. And to be honest the kid wouldn’t have stopped either. Granted he’d be a lot less violent about it. But to each their own.”
“Then why are you here?” Clint asked.
“Do you remember when I found out about the baby? And I called you?” Tony asked. “What was it you said to me?”
Clint just shook his head. Honestly he didn’t remember much over the course of the last year, year and half, he wasn’t actually sure how long it had been since the media claimed “Decimation”. All he knew was: find the criminals, kill them, sometimes eat, sometimes sleep, and then wake up and repeat.
“Oh yeah!” The other man flicked his hand out making a finger gun. (He notably didn’t snap his fingers when before all this he would have.) “You said that my kid would want me to have hope. Well I think that Cooper, Lila, Nathaniel, and Laura, they’d want you to have it too.”
Clint didn’t respond. He just turned away. He put his hood back on over his head and went back to watching the streets below.
“Just wanted you to know we’ve got a seat for you saved at the table, come by whenever. You still need to meet the baby kiddo,” Tony said tapping his chest and letting his suit envelope him. “Also, call Nat, she’ll probably murder me if I managed to talk to you and not get you to call her. She also wants to stop the bad guys still left here so you might as well team up. I hear the two of you are good at that.”
Ironman flew away. By the end of the night Ronin would have defeated one of the cartels. Mexican Police would find them tied up with a note saying they were spared their lives in honor and memory of Spider-Man, New York City’s late friendly neighborhood superhero.