Tony cursed to himself, shutting off the recording for the umpteenth time and erasing it just to start again. Nothing he’d said so far seemed like it was enough, anything more than stiff and disingenuous. He scrubbed his hands over his face, staring down at his helmet, the most familiar thing in this fucking shithole of a situation.
He’d stopped looking at himself in the mirror days ago, or at least what he thought happened to be days ago. Time was a little fucked when you were lost in the depths of space, adrift with no hope for rescue. Hell, maybe nobody would ever find them, let alone the recording he was trying and failing to make for the people back home that might never see it.
The feeling choked him, tightened in his throat and threatened to bring tears to his eyes he couldn’t afford to shed. There was little enough water, and they’d be out soon enough.
He’d lost so much weight; he knew it even though he refused to look in the mirror. A sorry ass picture he painted, gaunt and weak, desperate to leave some tangible legacy behind. Bloodshot eyes opened once more to stare down at the helmet, ready, waiting. He needed to do this, even if nobody would ever see it. On the off chance they did...
“Beck...” he started, a far cry from any of the messages he’d tried to record before. To Pepper. To Happy. To the other Avengers both gathered and forgotten. To Fury, even. Nothing seemed right. “I know I did you wrong. Hell, that’s pretty par for the course with me, isn’t it?” he huffed a weak laugh, eyes glinting with regret and a sad attempt at humor.
“Truth is I never wanted to leave. Never wanted to let you down, but it’s me, right? It’s what I do, isn’t it? I screwed up, I know I did. Thought that would be it. What could I do to fix that? And then the accords, and Cap, and-” he had to pause, nearly choking on the words but he didn’t stop the recording this time.
“I failed you. In the one way I said I never would. Beyond that. I get it. Makes sense if you’d hate me, then, now. If you’re-” he swallowed, thick and bitter and too much to bear. “If you’re alive...” as if it kills him more than he’s already dying just to imagine the opposite. “I love you. I always loved you. It’s not enough, it doesn’t excuse anything, and I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough, now or ever, should’ve said it then, I know. Never meant to hurt you, but hey. It’s better this way, yeah? I sit here, thinking of Pep, and it hurts, but I know she’ll be okay. Can’t-”
Couldn’t imagine her not being okay. Couldn’t picture Pepper turning to dust, alone in their penthouse, knowing nothing. It was too much. He had to choke back the tears yet again.
“I can’t lose you like this, not again. Not like this. Not without you knowing. Maybe it’s selfish. Scratch that it’s definitely selfish, but since when have I been anything but, right?” he smiled, ruefully at the cameras recording him, worn and weary and resigned to his fate. “You probably don’t care, and that’s fair. Totally get it. I- The BARF thing, it wasn’t supposed to be an official reveal of your tech, it was just... Yeah I know what you’d say. I know what you did say. It wasn’t built for a parlor trick or a pathetic self-help program, I know. I saw what you did with it, I wasn’t trying to-”
Tony grimaced, again rubbing his hands over his face, over the many days of stubble, the greys that had come in even more than before Titan. Before Thanos. “They were just hopeful college kids, Beck I didn’t mean for it to be serious, I didn’t think- Yeah I can see it now, can hear you say it. Of course you didn’t think, Tony, because it’s never about the consequences for you. I can see your face, that disappointment,” and honestly, despite it all, he smiles, a real thing but ridden with loss still, because he knows he’ll never see that face again.
Nevermind that he screwed it up all on his own. He knew he would. He deserved the swollen jaw and black eye that right hook had earned him. He reached out, fingers against metal, feeling the prick of treacherous tears and blinking them back, swallowing down the emotion as best he could.
“Truth is, you scared me. You were brilliant. Sharp. Too sharp, not because you could outpace me but because you could keep pace. Not all the way, but enough, more than most, and you probably know about the kid,” he nearly cut off the feed at that, but this was for Beck, who knew him at his best and his worst. “Yeah, he reminded me of you, but not the same way. I think you would’ve liked him, if he hadn’t-”
Again, he choked up, staring off at the console next to him rather than the emptiness of space, beautiful as it were. He was sick of space. Sick to fucking death of it.
“I think you would’ve liked him. He was a lot like you. Headstrong, stubborn, brilliant. I mean, compared to me, but I’m sort of obligated to say that at this point right? Levity and all that.” He huffed a laugh, weak and wry. What was there left to say? It was like a jerk off session at this point, entirely self-gratifying, and he looked into the eyes of the helmet, brought it up to press his forehead against the cold metal.
“If you see this... I really am sorry. I know it won’t amount to much, but consider this my will. I want any and all charges against you dropped, your name wiped from the blacklist. If you want, you can work with the company again but if not,” he scoffed to himself. “Of course you won’t, but I gotta offer, right? I want you to have enough to start up your own business. Probably don’t want that either, but too bad, non-negotiable, throw it in the ocean if you want but it’s yours, so hey, Pep, here’s my voice signature saying he gets what he needs, alright? You got that FRI? Take care of them, baby girl.”
One last pained smile for the cameras, before he just couldn’t do it anymore, running a hand over his face and through his unkempt hair. With a heavy sigh and a tap, he shut it down, collapsing back against the bulkhead and closing his eyes for what he thought would be the last time.
The next thing Tony knew, he was blinking his eyes open to light, brighter than anything he’d seen in a while. Light that looked like a woman, and really, he guessed it must have been heaven, and that somebody had made a mistake. Surely, he should’ve been in hell, right?
Staring into the face of the woman of light, his lip curled, and he passed out again quick enough. He didn’t believe in God anyway.
When he came to again, he was being escorted off the ship, legs finding their bearing once more on familiar ground, and faces he thought he’d never see again coming at him too fast.
I lost the kid.
That’s what Tony had said, and Pepper had held him like he was the goddamn sun and he felt sick. Like nobody understood what he’d lost, what had been sacrificed for the lot of them to just be alive. The joy of returning to Earth was dimmed just by the sheer fact that he should never have come back here after everything he failed to do.
He could see it in Pep’s eyes, when he asked where their personal effects were, from the ship. She knew, and he hadn’t the energy to argue with her about it.
When Steve had come at him with that goddamn self-righteous we’ll fix it plan, he’d lost it, straight up. Because there was no fixing it. Everything was gone, they’d fucking lost. Anyone who didn’t see that needed to get their heads out of their goddamn asses and focus on what was around them rather than some godforsaken cause.
The Avengers were done. They’d failed.
He said as much before he’d collapsed and been wheeled back to medical, no choice in the matter of his own damn care. It rankled him beyond reason, and he thought back to the weeks he’d spent dying, the things he’d thought of during that time. Sure, he held Pepper, kissed her, but he could tell from the way she looked at him that she knew there was more.
Letting her down was the last thing Tony wanted to do, and yet he had to reach out once he knew, even if it was an exercise in self-torture.
And so Tony found himself standing outside a disturbingly cheap looking apartment, thinking that it was a hilarious twist that the location had in fact been right under his nose despite having dropped off the grid for years. It was his own damn fault though, he knew that, fingers tightening on the IV stand that kept him standing because he was too stubborn to wait long enough to be fully back on his feet.
No. As soon as he’d discovered that Quentin Beck was still alive, there wasn’t a damn thing that would keep him from seeing the man again. There was, however, everything in the world that would keep him from making it more than a one time checkup. After all, Beck had no idea he was coming. The man probably had no idea he was even alive, so maybe a gaunt, weak, pathetic Tony Stark showing up on his doorstep wasn’t the best idea in the world, so sue him.
The man hadn’t even seen the recording.
It made sense that he’d have the door slammed in his face as soon as Beck had a moment to register who was on the other side.
It didn’t stop him, however, because he’d come too far, been through too much just to let it be, and they both knew that he was a stubborn son of a bitch when he put his mind to something. So half an hour later, with Tony barely holding himself up by way of his IV stand, Quentin opened the door, the look on his face all too satisfied as his former boss stumbled through the doorway and barely caught himself before faceplanting.
Beck didn’t even bother to help, and really, Tony expected that, drawing himself back up with as much dignity as he could muster while clinging to a life support stick while his ex stared him down with eyes colder than the depths of space.
“So I didn’t exactly think this far ahead,” he began, and really, he should’ve expected the scoff and sneer that came immediately in response. “No, really, before you-”
“No, Tony. You don’t get to make excuses, or pretty explanations, not now, not then, not ever. What the fuck are you doing here,” Beck snapped, though honestly, Tony dared to hope that there was some measure of concern in his eyes, some measure of something.
“I lost- We lost-”
“No shit? What’s new? As if I couldn’t have predicted the great Tony Stark to have failed in Earth’s greatest hour of need. And of course you blame it all on yourself, you self-important asshole.”
“Beck-”
“No. No. You don’t get to fucking come in here after what you did, acting like you’re some kind of saint, like you saw the goddamn light, Tony. That’s not how life works, do you get that? Even now? Or are you still so utterly full of yourself that you can’t see beyond your own bullshit?”
Really, Tony didn’t even have an answer, clutching the IV stand white knuckled and feeling the sweat breaking out on his brow, world swimming in and out of focus. “Beck, please-” he murmured, trying to focus on the man’s face, the darkness creeping into the edge of his vision. Maybe leaving the compound this soon hadn’t been a great idea after all.
“No, Tony. No. I was done listening when you stole everything from me, made excuses about it, and then blacklisted me. Do you have any idea how long it took to find anything remotely resembling a real job after that? Do you? Or are you so fucking wrapped in your ivory tower as usual that you can’t even comprehend what it’s like to be on my level? Could you ever? Because you might’ve forgotten where I came from, but I didn’t.”
It must have been a long time coming, with how avidly Beck let it all out, and could Tony argue with that? Could he really deny it? He’d been a part of this subjugation, hadn’t he? No matter how much he tried not to be? And now here he stood. Tony Stark. Master of burning bridges beyond repair, King of fuckups he’d been trying to put right and even still. He nodded, stiffly, jaw clenched. What had he expected, coming here?
Exactly this, he supposed.
“Just needed to see you, and I have, so I’ll just-”
But the world tipped sharply when he tried to turn, ringing in his ears drowning out all sound. He staggered, but lost his grip on the IV stand, gravity taking its toll as he felt himself fall, certain that the sound of Beck’s voice was just the product of his own mind. Hell. Maybe he never had gotten off that damn ship after all.
When Tony woke, it took a moment for his vision to focus, the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling welcoming him back to consciousness. It took a moment more for him to realize why it was unfamiliar, hand flying to his chest where the nanite casing still rested, a solid, comforting presence that immediately slowed his rising heart rate.
It was Beck’s apartment.
Fumbling, he nearly tipped over the IV stand next to the couch, tangling himself in the blanket that had been draped over him while he was unconscious and nearly falling to the floor if not for a strong grip on his shoulder easing him back down.
“You’re an idiot.”
Beck’s voice held what he thought was more exasperation than anger, as if the spark of it had fizzled down in the time that he’d been passed out. It had to have, if he’d bothered to settle Tony on his couch, bothered to stay and make sure he was... well. Alive, he supposed, it didn’t necessarily go beyond that, right? He turned his head to meet the man’s eyes, still shuttered and unreadable where he sat on the coffee table, hands now folded in front of him.
“And you’re... gorgeous,” wasn’t exactly what Tony meant to say, but there it was, and it was wholly true. Beck was a vision, after everything, even in his anger that was so well-deserved. One corner of his mouth quirked up at the pinched, unimpressed look the man shot back at him, but hey, he deserved that, didn’t he. A glass of water was shoved at him next, and he took it, easing up into a seated position and letting the blanket fall to his lap.
“How did you think this was going to go, Tony? That you’d just swagger in here like old times and charm yourself back into my good graces after everything?” Beck asked, and honestly, Tony was more hurt by the calmness in his tone than the words themselves, gripping the glass harder to stop his fingers from shaking. He sighed and dropped his gaze, took a sip of water and let his thumb slide through the gathering condensation.
“Like I tried to tell you, I didn’t think that far ahead-”
“And you never have, for all your genius, you never have been able to see past your own impulses. You’d think at this point I’d quit being surprised, no, don’t start. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to drink that water, and you’re going to call Happy or whoever it is you’ve got chauffeuring your almighty ass around,” Beck continued, not giving Tony even a moment to try and argue his case, interrupt, anything.
“You’re going to drink your water and then you’re going to leave, and you’re not going to come back here again. Ah- no. Don’t even try to argue with me, I will win and you fucking know it. You’re going to leave and you’re not going to show your face here again. You fucked it, Tony. I don’t know what you thought you’d accomplish coming here, or if you just had some messed up need to try and play martyr again, but I don’t care. The only reason you’re not on the curb right now is because unlike you, I’m not that kind of guy.”
Just because it was true didn’t make it sting less, didn’t make Tony’s throat any less dry and constricted despite the water he was steadily sipping at. The shutters came down over his eyes at the reminder of everything he’d put Beck through, the reminder that no matter what he did it always came back to the mistakes. How foolish was he to have thought that maybe he could elevate himself beyond those?
As if it were some giant cosmic joke, beyond the giant cosmic joke that he’d already been forced to endure, his phone lit up right at that moment, Pepper’s face staring impassively at him where it projected above the device. Tony looked between her and Beck, feeling almost as helpless as when the kid turned to dust in his hands.
“Accept call,” Beck deadpanned, his own shutters down, walls up. It turned out that FRIDAY still had the man’s voice signature on the access lists, apparently, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Pepper’s voice rang clearly through the small space. Tony didn’t even have it in him to say mute.
“Tony?! You are literally going to lead me to an early grave with these-”
“Hello, Pepper,” Beck intoned, flat gaze never leaving Tony’s and making the older man shift uncomfortably, rubbing at the barely there scar tissue at the center of his chest from the arc restoration surgery.
“Beck? Is that you? Oh my God, did he really-”
“Of course he did. Please come collect your husband, miss Potts,” came still as cold and professional as before. “I haven’t been his babysitter in over two years, and I believe he needs a reminder of where his priorities should lie, clearly.” And then with a tap, the call ended, leaving Tony unable to look away from Beck’s blank stare.
The younger man eventually spared him by breaking eye contact first, pushing up from where he sat on the coffee table to head off toward what must have been a bedroom. He paused for a moment at the threshold of the room, shoulders slouching briefly and then tensing, straightening with resolve. Beck didn’t even look back over his shoulder at Tony as he put the final nail in the coffin of everything they had been and never could be.
“Goodbye, Tony.”
For the sake of what little dignity he had left, Tony didn’t let himself cry until he was back in his own room, ordered back on bed rest and left alone to ostensibly rest.
What a novel fucking concept with a Titan sized hole in his chest.