Chapter 12
“Tell me everything,” Hawk demanded as soon as he had brought Tony to his private quarters.
“When the Ultron blew sky high, the three of us were sent adrift. By some stroke of luck, or perhaps God’s intervention, if I dare be so bold, we all washed ashore that island. I found James with Steve unconscious. He didn’t remember me, barely remembered Steve. I was panicking, hurt and damn near collapsing myself, so I didn’t notice at first, but his arm… it was a mess, Hawk,” he confided, reliving that awful moment. He could still hear his screams, see the way the arm was mangled, the bone. “It was broken, and I could see the bone, Hawk, the bone. It was sticking up, and it was filthy.” He fell on the bed, dropping his head in his hands. “I had to take it, I had to.”
He felt Hawk’s hand drop on his shoulder. “It sounds like it. He would’ve died from a wound like that.” There was no judgement in his voice, and for that Tony was grateful.
“He hated me for it, when he woke. He was in agony, and he was scared. I don’t blame him; he could only just remember his name. Trapped on an island with a stranger and a man you only faintly know? It would have driven me mad,” he admitted. “But he hated me, and it hurt. I understood- I would hate me too, Hell, I do anyway- but it hurt so much.” Silent tears fell from his eyes, and he wiped them away angrily.
“What about Steve?”
“He tried to get him to understand. He saw it all happen, held him down as I did it, and he knew as well as me what would have happened if I hadn’t have done it.” He laughed, a brittle, humourless thing. “Funny, it was ruining James’ life that brought us closer.”
Hawk sat next to him, wrapping him in a comforting hug. “It’s alright,” he soothed, as Tony sobbed, his frame wracked by them. “It’s alright, Tones, I promise. Nobody blames you. You did what you had to do, it’s alright.”
“It’s not because he hates me.” Tony was close to screaming, all the emotion he had shoved down, unable to show rearing its ugly head. “He doesn’t remember me! He doesn’t love me anymore.”
“But you still love him.” It wasn’t a question, and Tony didn’t answer. Of course he did. Of course he did. How could he not? How could anyone not love James? His kind, brave James.
He felt Hawk card his hands through his hair, fingers running over his scalp as he hummed, oddly comforting. “He might remember, given time,” he pointed out.
“I don’t have time. Hawk, he wants to leave. He wants to take Steve and go back to his home.” His sobs, which had subsided, began anew, and Hawk could barely make out his ‘I’m not his home anymore’ through his cries.
“You’re going to let him go.”
He sounded surprised, and that made Tony glare at him. “You think I want to? Do you think that I want him to leave me? Leave us? We’re his friends, his family, Hawk. I don’t want him to go, but I have to let him because that what he wants, what he needs.”
Hawk made to speak, but was cut off by Tony, whose voice was growing louder, more fervent. “He said that every time he looks at me he is reminded of what he lost. He said that, he said that. I can’t be that! I can’t! I can’t make him suffer that out of selfishness!”
Hawk nodded. “No, I don’t think you can.” He sighed, saddened. “We’ll all miss him,” he murmured, casting his mind to the fond memories he had of the man, of how quickly he had become a part of their rag tag family.
“I know,” Tony agreed morosely. “I know.” He curled closer to his friend, blinking away the last of his tears. It seems he had cried all he could, but the heaviness in his chest didn’t relent, didn’t lessen.
“No.” At Tony’s confused look, Hawk glared at him. “No,” he repeated himself, oddly firm for the usually laid back man. “Don’t you dare, Tones. I know that tone, I know it, and I know what it means. It means that you’ve come up with a stupid idea, and I think I know what it is, and no. Don’t you dare, Anthony Edward Stark.” His voice hitched, and broke as he continued. “You can’t leave us.”
“It’s for the best,” Tony argued. “He can build a life here, again. Can find his place, can help free slaves, as he wanted before. Rhodey can take the Vendicatore, as long as she still sails the seas I’ll be content. I can’t be content if he runs away to somewhere he won’t belong anymore, to where he won’t survive, not with only one arm.”
“Tony…”
“Don’t. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” His eyes softened as he cupped Hawk’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead. “I’m fix everything.” He offered a lopsided grin. “It’s what I do.”
“You bastard,” Hawk managed, eyes threatening to fill with tears. “You complete bastard.”
Tony smiled softly.
“I’m going to talk to them, alright? Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’ll make sure I say goodbye.”
And with that, Hawk struck stupid and immobile, he slipped away, grimly determined.
He wouldn’t force James from the home he had made here. He might not remember it, but he knew, he knew, that he would find a family here again, and in time, would remember. He could be happy here, happier than in London struggling to work with his injury.
And he hadn’t lied to Hawk. As long as The Vendicatore was sailing, saving lives, and James was safe and happy? Then he would be content.
Steve suffered through Banner checking him over for injuries with great reluctance; they had been on the island for a month, any injuries he did have had healed in that time with their rudimentary methods. All that was left was a few scars. Nothing urgent.
Bucky was the one that needed healing, he tried to insist, but the doctor was firm. His patience was wearing thin when Tony came barging in, shooing the doctor out.
"Don't leave," he blurted when they were alone, wringing his hands in anxiety. "I mean- I can leave." He glanced to Bucky, guilt and regret marring his attractive features. "You don't have to. Stay, please. The crew is as much your family as my own, I can't let you leave. And… there's a life for you here, one you couldn't get back in the colonies."
Steve frowned. “Anthony, this is your ship, your crew- your life. You cannot leave, surely.”
He shrugged. “For James? I will.”
Bucky shifted, uncomfortable, but Tony had a light flaming in his eyes that spoke of a single-minded determination, and Steve knew that he would not be dissuaded. His mind was made; he would be leaving, no matter what they said, or did.
“For how long?” He asked, saddened slightly. A part of him would miss the man. On that island, Tony was all he had. His support and presence had gotten him through that time, when even looking at a Bucky who didn’t remember him was too painful. What they had been through… it had forged a bond between them, and Steve realised, in that moment, that he would miss him.
Tony bit his lip and refused to meet his eye, and Steve's heart sank because he knew. "You're not coming back."
It wasn't a question, but Tony's silence was confirmation enough.
“I just came to say goodbye,” he spoke, when the silence became stifling. “God be with ye,” he offered, with a small, sad smile.
"I don't know these people," Bucky called out as he stepped away. "So tell me, exactly, how they could possibly be my family."
"You might not remember them, but I know that you don't need to. You made a home out of this ship before, you can do it again- and with Steven by your side I dare say you shall accomplish it at a much swifter pace."
Steve frowned. There was something more to Anthony's melancholy tone, something he wasn't saying but was lying beneath his words all the same.
It wasn't the ship Bucky made a home out of. It wasn't the crew nor the life.
It was Anthony.
Bucky had made a life with Tony and had loved it.
The realisation made Steve's eyes widen, rendered speechless as he watched the man he had come to call a friend leave, left with a striking and visceral sense of wrongness.
This isn't right. None of this is right.
But how do I make it right?
The thought plagued him, held him in its grasp all night, relentless. A pulsating need to fix this, to repair the friendship between the two men because seeing Anthony in such pain hurt.
It was inexplicable but undeniable.
And, truthfully, Steve was tired of ignoring his emotions, of locking them away. It had never done anything for him: in fact, truth be told, it had only served to make things worse.
So, inexplicable or not, he was going to give in to this thing and find some way to get the two men on at least the path to reconciliation.
"I can hear you thinking, Stevie," came the tired mumble into his chest. "Settle, will ya?"
Steve smiled, despite himself, fond and warm. "Sorry," he sighed.
"What's eating you?"
"It's nothing, Buck."
"Steven…"
"It's Tony."
"Stark? For the love of God, Stevie, leave it be. He doesn't want to be here, and, God's truth? I don't want him here either." Bucky huffed, shifting so that he was leaning on his hand, staring down at Steve. "The nerve of him; trying to get us to stay on his ship amongst strangers, and acts as if they're out family? Steve, I don't know them. He is the most vexing man I have had the misfortune to meet."
Steve winced. "He's not all bad," he denied. "You just don't want to admit that, because once you acknowledge that he is human, as emotive and vulnerable as you, it will be harder for you to place your hatred and fear upon him." He raised a hand to stroke along the man's side as he spoke to soften his words. "You have made him a vessel for your fear and anger, your self-hatred, and, darling, it's hurting you and him. It's easier to hate him than to see how scared he is, to admit that there was no other way, that you had to lose your arm."
Bucky scowled. "I don't want to talk about this."
"Buck-"
"No. You know what? Why don't we talk about how you feel guilty about hating him and how it took you being stranded on a deserted island with him to see him as a complex human being yourself? How this guilt has manifested in a need to get me to forgive him, when, frankly, its none of your business. Hmm?" His tone was mocking, cruel, and it unsettled something in Steve. Times like this, when Bucky seemed to be spewing hatred and defensiveness, when he lashed out, he didn't recognise the man before him as the love of his life.
"I- that's not- I do not-" he spluttered, face heating.
"It is true, Steve, and you need to stop because I don't owe him anything. You want me to stop hating him? Fine. I don't feel a thing for him- not a goddamn thing."
Steve's mouth gaped as Bucky lay back down.
"So go to sleep, alright? He's going to leave our lives and I won't have to ever see him again so it'll be fine."
"Just fine."
"Where on God's green earth do you think you're going?"
Rhodey's voice cracked through the still night like a whip and the corners of Tony's mouth twitched ever so slightly. "It seems that I am still incapable of escaping your all-seeing eye, then."
"You never could and you never will," came the dry agreement. "And neither will your attempts to distract me. Where are you headed."
"I told you."
"No, you told me you were leaving me your ship as you were running away, but I assumed that you meant it in jest, and, so help me, it had better have been made in jest and this had better not be what I think it is."
Tony paused, raising a single eyebrow. "Well. Then I shall refrain from commenting, seeing as you dislike it when I lie."
“Anthony Edward Stark.”
Tony winced. Rhodey was furious, if he was using his full name. “Yes, dear?”
“Don’t. Tony, don’t, I beg of you.” Rhodey’s tone became pleading as he stepped towards his friend. “This is foolish and you know it!”
He shook his head. “No, this is long overdue.” He offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s time I went back home. Steven and James… they’ll be better off here, without me, and I’ll… I shall be able to reclaim the family business, perhaps. Make it something you would all be proud of.”
“Tony…”
“No, Rhodey. I… I killed Stane, I removed his foul rot from this Earth but the remnants of him still taints my life- our lives. It is time, old friend, for us to move onto the next stage; with you at the helm, taking down the slavers, and with myself working to remove the damage done by his hand. Hammer set a trap for us, I need to know why, how he knew we’d be there.”
“I won’t let you-”
“I am not asking for your permission.” His voice hardened, eyes flashing dangerously. “This is my choice and you will respect it.”
Rhodey crossed his arms, glaring fiercely. It was usually enough to sway Tony, but tonight it was ineffective. “Fine,” he hissed. “You make this stupid, idiotic decision but do not come crying to me when it backfires in your face. This is an excuse. You don’t want to be around Barnes or Rogers so you’re leaving? Leaving me?” He was hurt, hurt and angry.
Tony’s face crumbled. “Rhodey…”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand, glancing away. “Just… don’t.”
Tony nodded. “Keep in touch,” he offered, in lieu of a goodbye. Both men hated those, and besides. It was never truly a goodbye with them. “You’re right,” he admitted, staring at the ground. “I am using this as a way to escape, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be done. When I have something I’ll contact you.” He offered a small smile. “It’ll be like old times.”
Rhodey stormed over to him, pulling him into a hug. “Come back. You hear me? You don’t want me to come? Fine. But you better come back to me when you’re done, you hear me?” Rhodey’s voice was thick with emotion. “Because if I hear you died because you nosed around in Stane’s shady underworld? I will raise you just to kill you myself, I swear to God.”
Tony laughed, and if it were slightly wet, neither man mentioned it.
“I promise.”
And with that, he was gone.