Today's Quote: "I watched my friends die. You'd think that'd be as bad as it gets."
~Tony Stark

*trigger warning, also a really long, emotional chapter*

It was dark, oh so deathly dark - and it was silent. Completely and utterly, silent. 

But this was not the same, calming, peaceful silence as it had once been before; no, this was an eerie silent, one that Tony wished he could ignore, one that he would gladly exchange for any other sound. 

He couldn't remember the last time he had been awake. He remembered darkness, and that was all. 

No . . . wait . . .

He also remembered the pain. He didn't know what it had been from, but he could vividly remember the overpowering feeling that had washed over him, stabbing at his organs and tearing him apart limb from limb. He could also recall slivers of emotion - heartbreak, sorrow, regret - and oddly enough, joy. 

Why joy was amidst all those darker feelings, he hadn't a clue. He struggled to remember what his own name was, let alone recall what had happened before now. 

All he was certain of in this very moment, was the darkness that consumed his vision and clouded his mind, blocking him from the outside world. 

He didn't know where he was, or if he was with anyone, but that didn't seem to be his main concern - he was still trying to piece together how he had got here, and what in God's name he had been doing. 

He pressed his eyes more tightly together and felt his brow wrinkle in concentration, extending his mind into the vast ocean of memories that had once lay clearly before him. It was difficult, and at first there was nothing but that eerie sound of nothing, and the endless dark shadows that lay before him. 

But then, bits and pieces of his life started to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and slowly but surely, he was able to remember what had been happening before. 

He tried to relax as he let his mind wander back to the previous moments before his current state of distress, but the quiet made it difficult. It was difficult, mostly because of the fact that he knew that there was something missing . . . he could sense that the silence was the effect of something he had did, something that he must have been hiding within himself, and it frustrated him. He was able to push through though, the determination and thought of finding what he was missing pushing through that feeling of frustration. 

He was taken back to a dark place - one that had obviously been abandoned for some time now - where people stood huddled together in what looked like a demolished plaza. There were seven of them, but they were mere blobs of color in his memory, and he didn't recognize any of them except for himself, as the details he was given were vague and brief; but he was patient, and he watched. 

All was quiet at first, but shock began to spill through Stark as he watched three of the figures disappear into thin air, seemingly evaporating into tiny flecks of dust, carried away on the wind. 

Something about this was painfully familiar.

His heart sank at the sudden realization that those had been his friends, his partners, who had been helping him fight for something, something important. For the first time since he had entered this eternal darkness, sorrow shook him from head to toe. 

But that sorrow was only to grow. 

Then, slowly, another figure - this one bearing a red cape - flaked away, mouthing words to Tony, before he too was gone, vanished from thin air. 

Three of them remained.

It wasn't long before one of them stumbled, crashing into Tony's figure and almost knocking him down. 

Stark felt his entire body begin to tremble, as the memory of this person came flooding back to him, showing no mercy as the endless waves bore down through his mind, and all the way down into his heart and soul, the sweet sting of regret and pure guilt agonizing the billionaire. 

He screamed for his mind to stop, to push this event out of his head, so he could forget it ever even happened. He felt like he was squirming within his own brain, desperate and pleading for the agony to end.

But it was near impossible, and Tony was forced to watch as the kid he had learned to love fell away before his very eyes, until there was nothing left of him but tiny gray flecks of dust that drifted off into the wind, carried away by the current. 

Tony exhaled, relieved that the memory was over, but highly struggling with controlling his emotions. His heart felt like it was being pinched and twisted in all different directions, until he was sure it would burst from his chest and shatter into a million pieces. 

Until finally, he lost the battle; all the guilt, sorrow, pain, anguish, despair, anger, frustration, and sadness met him in the form of a waterfall, cascading freely down his dirty cheeks and running down beneath his torn and filthy shirt.

He couldn't control himself. He still couldn't remember entirely what had happened, but he knew for a fact that that kid had meant something so dear and precious to him, and it tore him into a gazillion pieces to know that he was gone, ripped from his life just as easily as he was thrown into it. 

Stark didn't understand that he had been dreaming until his chestnut eyes shot open, light and colors immediately stampeding into his vision, giving him an instant headache at the sudden change in his surroundings. 

Light. 

He didn't know how much he'd missed it until it all came flooding back, welcoming his eyes back into the world around him. It was painful though, still, as his vision was strongly blurred and he saw stars and little black flecks dashing around.  Still, he was thankful - thankful that he was torn away from the dream he knew would continue to haunt him every time he closed his eyes. 

Then he felt the pain. 

It started with the familiar burning sensation in his side, that slowly began to spread and crawl its way up to his face, which proceeded to boil and ache to the point where Stark believed his head was on fire. It was then that he noticed the sharp, stinging pain that resided deep within his bones - in his arms, in each rib, and in his lower back. His neck was in no better shape, and every time he tried to move, he was met with a sharp twist and a sickening crack that made him nauseous with worry. It was difficult to breathe, and he could practically feel the soot and dirt that had planted itself deep inside his lungs. 

It all seemed worse than it was in his memory, although he didn't know how that was possible - that pain was some of the worst he had ever felt. But what it left in its aftermath, was certainly no improvement. 

He blinked, continuing to stare at the pale ceiling that lay above him, wondering where he was. Through all the pain, he was able to feel a cushion beneath him, and knew instantly that he was in a bed, most likely a hospital one. 

But if he was in a hospital, wouldn't he have had an oxygen mask one, or an IV hooked up to him? He felt nothing. Nothing, except the searing pain that refused to leave his body. 

Breathe, he reminded himself. 

And he did just that, taking deep breaths in, and then out. But even as he attempted to calm himself, he began to wheeze and cough up a storm. For some strange reason, hearing himself cough and feeling himself shudder, brought him despair and a sense of loneliness. 

No one was here to coax him, or soothe him, or tell him everything was going to be okay. He was on his own, and right now, in the state he was in, that felt like the loneliest thing in the world. 

As much as he tried to fight back the emotions that he had worked so hard to keep out of his brain, they all came back, hovering over his soul and picking at his heart. 

He didn't know how he was alive, or why he was; part of him still wished he had died, as he wasn't able to mentally cope with all that had happened. Death just seemed so - peaceful, and Tony wanted nothing but tranquility at the moment. 

Oh, how he wished that this pain would leave him alone, or that his emotions would just magically disappear. He knew it wouldn't happen, but he still hoped to God that it would. Tony wasn't used to feeling like this - all his life he had learned to ignore most of his emotions, and he was well aware of the fact that his ignorance was coming back to haunt him. He felt so lost and helpless, and hadn't a clue what to do, which was the worst gut-sinking feeling ever. 

He allowed his eyes to close, and knew right away what would be waiting for him. He didn't care; he needed to calm himself down, no matter what it took. 

That had been a mistake, however, as he felt more dark memories starting to crawl back into his mind, making him feel as if he were falling deeper and deeper into the depths of depression and loneliness. 

A tear slid down his cheek, and he was grateful for the fact that no one had been there to see it. The only person that had ever seen him cry, was Pepper Potts. 

Pepper. 

Pepper. The only one who had ever fully understood him, and quite possibly the only one who ever would. 

She had done everything for him, and expected nothing in return; she had loved him unconditionally, and had put up with all his bullcrap and still found a reason to stick around. Any normal person would have upright left Tony as soon as they got the chance - but Pep had been no ordinary person. Virginia Pepper Potts, was Tony's entire world. She made him something, she defined him. Without her, half of him was missing. 

Now, he didn't know if she was even alive. That alone, scared him out of his wits.

Another memory pulsed through his screaming head - the moment when Tony had left Pepper alone in the park to go off with another figure. He hadn't realize how shattered and hurt she had looked until he saw it replay again. 

There was a sudden tug on his heart, and momentarily the physical pain evaporated, and was replaced with the heavy feeling of heartbreak. His gut twisted, and his soul trembled. 

Tony's body began to shake, the familiar moisture of tears welled and ready behind his eyes reminded him of just how little control he had over himself right now. 

She could be gone. I could've lost her too. I never got the chance to tell her how much I loved her, or how much she meant to me. I just left her, alone, in that park, when I knew it could be a one-way trip. She'll never know now. It's too late. I've lost everything that ever meant anything to me. 

And just like that, Tony shot up straight in bed, forcing himself to ignore the gut-wrenching pain that surged throughout him, as none of that mattered now. Tears swept freely down his face, as he had lost all possible control over his body. 

He looked around, realizing that he was in a completely white, blank room, aside from the bed and one single nightstand. 

Ignoring the rising questions in the back of his mind, Tony limped to the door, slamming it open. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing; he just needed to get out. He needed to escape his own mind. 

But he had already tested and exceeded his limits, and even on the adrenaline rush, his body simply couldn't take anymore. He crumbled to the ground in a heap, his back leaning against the outside wall of the room next to the door. His head fell into his hands, and his entire body screamed with horrible pain. His blood felt like it was on fire, tearing through his system and burning him from the inside out. 

A familiar ringing began to play on in his ears, blocking out the harmonic quiet of the place. The world began to spin, and Tony's breaths came in ragged spurts. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he was certain he felt strong hands grasp onto his shoulders, trying to force him into an upright sitting position. 

Tony did nothing to help them, as he lay dead weight against the wall. Tears were pouring down his face, soaking through his battered clothing and making his eyes swell. But he made no sound, no sound at all, as his heart and soul were simply too empty to do so. All there was left  for him to do, was cry. 

His eyes rolled behind his head as he blacked out again. Only this time, he prayed that he would never wake up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Tony awoke much faster than he had before, and without the devilish nightmares, which gave him little relief against everything else that had previously been torturing him.  

He dreaded opening his eyes, for he didn't want to see the world he had left behind. He dreaded keeping his eyes shut, as the horrors of his failures and all of those he had let down were relentless in torturing Tony's already obliterated brain. He dreaded breathing, for it hurt his lungs. He dreaded hearing the sound of his heart beating, as it was a constant reminder that he was still alive and at some point would have to face the reality that had initially put him in this position.  

However, after the sadness and the heartbreak washed over and he had finished feeling sorry for himself, the anger settled in. 

Now, he was no longer a trembling, weak, shattered mess - he was fuming with anger and his heart swelled, having the tasted sweet bitterness of revenge, and he had developed a total blood lust towards Thanos, and all those who had rained these emotions upon him. 

He had been alone when he woke up, but was no longer in that white room - he awoke lying on a couch in Clint's place, which was even more upsetting. So far, he hadn't seen anyone . . . all was quiet. For now, he'd hoped it stay that way - he couldn't possibly imagine how he would react if he had to face Clint right now . . .

He pushed the thought aside, something that he had been getting better at since had awoken. 

There had been two advil and a glass of water on the table side next to the couch, not that it made any difference; it was a lazy attempt at fighting off the pain that echoed deep inside him. 

He groaned and started to breath heavily as a wave of pain washed over him briefly, before retreating back into his side. 

After he had calmed down, he shifted positions on the couch, carefully turning onto his back, placing his hands behind his head as he gazed at the ceiling. He knew that many of his bones were probably broken, or bruised at the very least, and that he shouldn't have been moving as much as he was. But once again, that simply didn't matter in his mind - all he cared about, was what he would do when he healed.

The sun was setting, hiding itself behind the pink swirls of clouds.

Tony closed his eyes with a soft whimper as an image of Pepper flashed in a never-ending circle in his mind. His heart twinged with sadness.

He was sick and tired of having to put up with all of these crappy feelings, and it did nothing but anger him beyond the point of his own sanity, to where he wished he could tear into his soul and dig them out himself. 

His brain had fully recovered from whatever slight amnesia he had experienced, and he now fully remembered everything that had happened, up until the point of his strange, near-death blackout. 

He also recalled hearing what sounded like Thor's voice before he was swallowed into his own darkness, which was odd, because Tony hadn't seen or heard from Thor in what seemed like forever. He didn't know if he was just remembering incorrectly, or if he had just been hearing things at the time; which would make sense, given the state he had been in, it was easy that he could have imagined the words. 

But they had sounded so real - and the way Thor had called for him, Tony knew that he was deeply concerned and could hear the worry in his voice. It was possible that that was how he had gotten into the strange white room, and quite possibly how he had gotten here. 

But it didn't explain what had happened to the robot-girl he had been talking to. He did feel a tad bit concerned for what had happened to her after the earthquake, but wasn't entirely sure if it was in his best interest to find out at the moment. He had better things to be committed to, one of which involved finding out what exactly had happened after he had been removed from the world. 

Which only raised more questions - he didn't know how long he had been under, or how much time had passed since then. It could've been months, for all he knew. He shivered. What if I've been completely oblivious and out for months? What's happened since then that I could've prevented?

The thought of the disasters that could've occurred while Tony was 'asleep,' haunted him and angered him at the same time, partly because he knew that if he had been there, he may have been able to prevent it.

What more could I have done to stop Thanos?

Nothing, his mind shot back at him, trying to avoid the very question that may be the death of him. There's nothing more I could've done. If that were true, then why couldn't he fight off this feeling of guilt in his chest? The feeling that kept tearing him down and forcing visions of Parker and his other disintegrating friends to shoot across his brain?

His thoughts were scrambled as the familiar tingle of pain jolted through him, re-awakening his nerves and sending chills cascading down his spine and into his toes. The anger slowly started to drift from his heart.  

His eyes were closed again, as the only comfort he found against the world was the one he received hiding behind his eyelids. He took in a sharp breath, the air tickling and scratching at his torn-up throat. Slowly, the image of Parker weaved itself around Stark's mental wall and snuck into his brain, tricking him into believing that he were to live out the few final moments before the kid's dusty demise.

It was hard to tell if the pounding noise was coming from his head, or from the door behind him, but either way, he wasn't totally affected by it - his mind was busy wandering elsewhere, taking him back to times he had wished he could forget. 

So, his lack of awareness of his surroundings came back and slapped him in the face - literally - as his throbbing head was met by the sudden palm of a cool, smooth hand. He jolted upright, his bones instantaneously screaming at him in response to the sudden movement, and he immediately felt the desire to lie down again, as he felt like he would pass out from the spinning that took place from within his reeling mind. 

"Ow," he managed to squeak hoarsely, massaging the sore skin on his cheek.

"You jerk!" a familiar, stern, voice shot at him. 

Tony's eyes shot open as soon as the familiarization of the voice clicked in his head. As he had thought, his eyes opened to reveal the one and only Natasha Romanoff, someone he hadn't seen since she told him off at the compound after the Airport fiasco in Germany. A shudder danced across his skin. For a moment, his senses were slightly overwhelmed with the shock of seeing the assassin again, partly because she had changed - a lot. 

Her once rosy-red hair was dyed so blonde it almost appeared white, and she wore an intimidating, commanding, look on her face, one that was way different from how Stark had seen her before. He could tell that even such little time had changed her, as it was evident in the way her piercing eyes met his own. He assumed that her hard glare was the result of weeks worth of battle time, and living through a life on her own for a while after the Avengers' split. Which, in a way, still surprised him at how violent she had acted towards him. Sure, she had betrayed him in the end and all, but that didn't explain the physical advance. He didn't know if he was mentally prepared to be scolded or lectured by her at the moment, and was more scared than he was willing to admit to cry in front of Nat. 

Despite how the two left off, Stark took it upon himself to smother any hard feelings he had towards her, as now was clearly not the time to rant off about previous experiences, as there would be time for that later. He managed to keep ahold of his dignity, and forced himself to speak to her. 

"Nice to see you too," he quipped dryly, almost choking on the words. 

Her eyes narrowed and her hands settled on her hips as she glared at him. "Stark, where the actual hell were you? Do you have any idea how much you scared all of us? Why didn't you think to call us and at least tell us where in the UNIVERSE you were going?!"

Stark found it hard to process what she was saying, mostly because he couldn't really believe it. They were scared for him? Since when? He could understand her anger, but part of him knew that she was hiding something behind those words. 

"Tony," her voice was a tad softer now after there was a long pause. "I don't know your full end of the story yet. But I do know that you were probably out there trying to get yourself killed to save everyone else, just like you always have. I'm pretty sure you know what happened. Nebula - the robot-looking girl that we found you with - told us about Titan, and everything that happened." She paused as she saw Tony's gaze avert from her's. 

His heart was so shaken, he could feel it batting around from underneath his chest, overwhelmed with the emotions that swarmed him like a sea of stinging bees. NO, stop it. You're supposed to be able to control yourself! 

But he felt that same uncontrolling feeling creeping back into his veins, crawling back up behind his eyes and causing him to feel dizzy. All anger and frustration he had felt left him, and he was turning back to that same, shattered, depressed feeling. 

She knows what happened. She knows how I failed, how I let everyone down. 

Nat sat down in the recliner across from him, her elbows resting on her knees. "I didn't mean to slap you. Or sound harsh. I know how hard this all is for you. I just want you to know that I'm . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. 

"What are you sorry for?" he scoffed sarcastically. "You don't need to be sorry. This is my fault, Widow. This is all my fault. I let everyone down. I could've done more, I should've done more - I see that now, but as always, I'm too late. Too late to take back all that I ever regretted, too late to tell the ones I loved how I felt. I'm a screw-up, and now the universe has to suffer because of me." 

"Save it, Stark," she fired back instantly, her voice sharp. "You better shut your lousy mouth right now. You have to learn when to stop blaming yourself. Sure, you've screwed up before, we all have. Why? We're human. But there's a fine line between screwing up something and losing to something that's far beyond your control. We all knew walking into this mess how slim the chances were, but we fought anyway, because it was right. I know for a fact that you gave everything your all, Stark. You don't think anyone understands you, you don't think anyone ever will - but what you don't know is that there are people out there who do. I know how you feel - I know what it feels like to fail, to have the weight of the world resting on your shoulders. But Tony, this . . . this is not your fault."

His lower lip began to quiver slightly, and he knew he was on the verge of tears again. Don't cry. He wanted to believe her words, he really did. He wished he could. 

But he couldn't. His soul was shattering, his heart was breaking - he knew that his emotions were pulling him deeper and deeper underwater, and that they were going to drown him. For once in his life, he didn't know what he was feeling. Perhaps it was because there were too many things to feel that they all began to blend together. Or maybe it was simply because he had lost all ability to feel. Whichever it was, it was killing him, ripping him slowly and painfully apart. 

The physical pain had vanished completely, and Tony was left with a shattered mess of a man that he knew no one would ever be able to glue back together again. 

His head fell into his hands and his eyes closed, as he tried one last time to smother the tears that were dangling from his eyelashes. As per usual, it was a losing battle, and one, silent tear slid down his face and ran into the corner of his mouth as his lips turned into an ugly frown. 

"I was just trying to be like you . . ."       "And I wanted you to be better." 

"He's gone, Nat. He's gone. He had an aunt who loved him, he had a friend who loved him, he had-"

"You, to love him," she leapt in, knowing who he was talking about. 

Another tear escaped. 

"I told myself I would protect him. I promised myself I would keep him safe. I broke the one promise that I thought for sure I would keep. I didn't know how oblivious I was to the idea of feeling this much emotion, this much . . . mushy feely stuff towards someone and I . . . I just . . ."

"You're hurting, Tony. Admit it. You know you can't deny it." 

I'm more than hurting. I'm dying. I'm dying knowing that I failed. I'm dying knowing that I broke my promises to Pep and the kid. I'm dying knowing that I let the universe down. I'm dying knowing that I was never the hero I thought I was. I'm a coward, is all I am. A coward, and a fake. It's all I've ever been and all I'll ever be. 

"Nat. I don't know what to do. I can't believe that I just openly said that to someone, but I'm more lost than I've ever been. For once in my entire life, I'm not bothered by the idea of going six feet under. If it's relief from this hellhole of a universe that I've created, then by all means, I'm game." 

It was then that Natasha took him firmly by his shoulders, and shook him violently, ignoring his major injuries. Not that he cared, as the pain had completely vanished, and was now a livid memory. "God dammit Stark, can you not get ONE THING through that GIANT head of yours?!" she snapped. "This is NOT your fault, there is NOTHING more you could have done to prevent this, and you most certainly did NOT let anyone down! If anything, you've made everyone proud. Look around, Tony. Look at all you've done in your life. You changed the course of history; you've saved the universe on multiple occasions; you've learned to love; you've raised a kid to become something great. Please don't ever think that it's okay to just die, to give up on everything you've worked for in your life. I know damn well how bad things are looking right now, but since when has that stopped the Avengers? We'll fight back Tony, harder than we ever have. We'll get through this, as a team, no matter what's happened in the past. We'll make things right again, but if we're going to do that, you have to understand that we need you. The world needs you. The universe needs you. Pepper needs you. Parker needs you." 

Tony reluctantly met her gaze with his tear-stained face, as he was no longer ashamed of how shattered he felt. He knew there was no escaping this despair, and he knew that Nat was probably right - he had brought this upon himself; he had created his own demons. 

Either way, sitting around and sulking was not going to change anything, that he knew. But what he also knew, was that even after Widow's motivational speech, even after he had managed to stop the tears, he was aware that these feelings would not go away. He knew they would continue to haunt him. If he were honest, that thought was terrifying.

He didn't think he could get through it all. He didn't think he was strong enough. But could be proven wrong? 

He remembered something his father had said to him once . . . be the change that you want in the world. It had meant nothing to teenage Tony, but that young, immature kid was long gone. Now, a grown man had emerged, one that was broken, sure, but courageous, and willing to take risks. And now that he really thought about it, Stark realized that there was a change that he wanted to see in his world, one that he had aimed to accomplish his entire life without realizing it. 

Natasha had pulled away now, and had stormed out of the room without another word, leaving a silent Tony staring off into space in that small, cozy living room he had visited just once before. 

While he was still fighting with his brain over his own emotions, the door swung open again, and the loud, echoing footfalls could be heard against the creaking wood as it gave way under foot of the person. 

Tony didn't need to turn around to know who it was. This man was somehow able to give off a powerful aura whenever he walked into the room. 

Without moving, Stark stated without emotion: 

"Hello Rogers."