Day 65
Peter had tried to be strong. He had tried so, so, SO hard to be strong, to be understanding, but it was to much and he just could not do it. It hurt him to much. Pepper had been very understanding, and his father, did he even deserve to call him that anymore?, had been indifferent. It was that same indifference that had driven Peter to not wanting to go back to the compound. It was Tony Stark's cold indifference towards everything that had forced Peter away. Peter had gone to visit him everyday for weeks, but the man's bitterness and depression had become to much, so Peter had said good bye a week ago with no intention of going back, at least not for a long time, and the lack of messages from the man on his phone, told Peter that Tony didn't care.
Peter didn't blame him; he actually kind of understood it. It made sense. The man had broken his back in three places in the lower back, and would never walk unaided again, and it was Peter's fault. Peter was surprised that in all of his visits to Tony that the man had never once put the blame on it's rightful owner.
Peter. He was the one to blame. He had done this...let this happen. He had been slow getting out of building, and it was his fault that Tony had to come back. Further more he hadn't helped his father bare the weight of the concrete sooner.
It was his fault that Tony had nothing but indifference toward everything, life, Pepper, the Avengers, even Morgan, and finally Peter.
Peter hadn't killed father.
But what he had done might just be worse.
The sun came up.
Tony didn't care.
Pepper got up and left for work.
Tony didn't care.
She called a few hours later.
He still didn't care, but he answered the phone from his place in bed.
She spoke, but he didn't listen simply because he could not force himself to care.
All of the shits that Tony had once given were gone. He would have wanted them back if he had actually cared.
He thought that sometimes people in his situation would think about and or commit suicide. He probably would have put more thought into it if he had actually given one single tiny fuck either way.
Pepper came home, and brought him dinner. He ate it because she made him. He didn't care enough to argue or refuse.
"I love you Tony," She kissed the top of his head and left the room.
Tony wondered if that was still true, or if she was just saying it out of habit. It would make more sense if she was saying it out of habit. He had become quite unlovable. Not because his back was broken in three places, no that was a stupid reason not to love someone anymore, but because the unstoppable unchangeable cloak of indifference that had wrapped around him. It was hard to deal with someone who had no feelings toward anything what so ever. He knew. He had to deal with himself. Part of him somewhere maybe wanted to want to care again, but to much of him didn't care enough to dig the feeling out.
Sometimes he wondered if one day Pepper would out of habit tell him she love him, and then leave and not come back.
Just like Peter.
If she did he wouldn't blame her, just like he didn't blame Peter.
Pepper came back. She climbed into the other side of the bed, and she wrapped a soft arm around him.
The sun went down, and part of Tony wanted to care again.