Tony wishes he never met the Avengers sometimes. He should’ve followed his instincts and just worked solo. But the idea on paper was so damn promising. A group of individuals willing and capable of taking risks that others couldn’t protect the innocents. This team was supposed to be a way for him to do his role in improving the world, a task he thought he’d been failing at for all his life.
He was prepared for any physical burdens he’d have to carry. Even some emotional ones. He was no stranger to pain after all. And the reason he’d been so confident that he could take on those consequences is that no matter what, he’d always have his intellect and rationality to rely on. At least he thought he’d always have that.
Who knew that psychic powers could affect a man that much? Wanda certainly found out.
There was nothing more frightening to Tony than no longer being able to trust his mind. What could he do now? Now that everything inside of him could be twisted, controlled and used against him.
What was worse was that he couldn’t do anything to eliminate the problem. As someone who’d lost his mom in a horrible accident, he understands the pain Wanda carries within her. So he doesn’t blame her for what she did. She was a kid. A kid who was alone and whose only contact with people besides her brother was fucking Nazis. He understands. But, fuck, every time he sees her, he can’t help but feel revolted. He can’t feel safe if she’s there because she could cause so much damage, and he doesn’t have any tools to combat that. Yet, it seemed like he was the only one who had any reservations towards her. As if the other Avengers didn’t experience the same thing. Maybe they were just stronger than him; he didn’t know.
He didn’t know anything now.